Unfulfilled dreams. They’re the hardest thing to accept; to be complete in our un-completeness. To not compare. To live in the moment.
Liz is reading a book right now that just had a much more well-spoken passage about that idea, but that’s what sticks with me right now. It’s so true. And it makes me think about meditation; how letting go of that kind of brain swirl just to focus on someone else’s words, my own breath, letting go of those thoughts really, really helps me with my anxiety.
It was a huge key to being able to write again. Especially the part, I think, about comparison to others. Why can’t I do what they do? Why don’t I have what they have? Those questions I didn’t know consciously I was even asking, but have no answer. Those questions will never help me, they will only hold me back in a moment between what’s here and now, and a future that will never come to pass. It’s a state of limbo, of a freezing cold in which I can’t move. I won’t move.
That’s anxiety for me.
On that note…I’m to bed. I’m getting up on time tomorrow, exhaustion be damned, and I will write.
Night night.