My title embodies how I’ve been feeling lately. My heart and my brain are always at war with one another, and I’m pretty fed up with it. This always happens — I KNOW life goes in cycles — busy, slow, up, down, happy, sad, but right now I’m in a slow/down/sad cycle, and my anxiety is THROUGH THE ROOF. This weekend and last weekend were slow — only a smattering of social engagements, and my work week was similar. Even though my body is tired and my wallet is empty and this should be a blessing, my brain is saying but what about next weekend? How shall you fill your time? Aren’t the hours ticking by maddeningly slow? Whatever shall you do with yourself before you’re old and dead?
I DON’T KNOW, BRAIN! I haven’t the answers just now. I worry very much about reaching the end of my journey (you know, death) and looking back and saying, my God how much Netflix did you watch? Why didn’t you hot air balloon over Myanmar? Why did you never go snorkeling in Thailand? Why did you choose to sleep until noon instead of going to a fabulous bakery just a few blocks away from your house and getting a croissant fresh from the oven? Why didn’t you DO ANYTHING?
The external reality is, I do actually do things. Many things. My job is in animal welfare, I help save lives. I foster animals until they’re well enough to be adopted — I, with my own two hands, actually save animals from euthanasia, but for some reason when I look at a friend or a stranger’s Instagram and I see them looking so happy, so exhilarated, it doesn’t matter how many lives I’ve helped save, all I can think is but look at you now, sat at home on your settee dicking around on your phone. And I do other things as well, I travel and have adventures and meet people, and go interesting places. All I have to do is look at my own Instagram and I can see that. But if every waking week, every single day, every last solitary moment isn’t spent engaged in something, I feel I’m wasting my life. I can feel the hours ticking away, I can feel my body aging and decaying, and my life rapidly hurtling toward oblivion.
I often wonder about the quality of other people’s lives. Are they actually doing that much more than I am, or do they just know how to market themselves better? Some girls can turn a bubble bath into an exquisite event unto itself. At the end of the day they’re sat at home as well, but they advertise it as an exclusive, decadent, enviable affair. It’s a known saying that a little bit of information is a dangerous thing, and maybe that’s applicable here — I know a little bit, and it makes me fill in the blanks and compare myself against this imaginary world. Maybe my mind has concocted a version of reality they want me to believe in, but is just that — a fantasy.
I think what I need is a good hobby. I like baking and cooking, but there’s only so much food you can make in a day before your boyfriend chases you out of the kitchen and calls you a madwoman. Today alone I have made: banana chips, a large batch of iced chai latte, simple syrup (for said chai latte as well as my reserve of iced coffee), banana muffins, eggs Florentine, and half a dozen lunches, tucked away tidily for the week to come. I’ve also organized my refrigerator and completed a painting that’s been 20% done since last winter. (I’m no painter, it was just words messily transcribed onto a canvas.) I took up knitting for a tiny amount of time, and liked it, but found when I dropped a stitch I couldn’t correct it, and I dropped them often. So my hat is now a botched, irregular lump of yarn. I blog, obviously, and am an on-and-off-again video game player. I enjoy reading and documentaries, but have been having a devil of a time getting my mind to focus on either. As you can see, my dear reader, I am a mess.
I’m still trying, though! I am getting a nice camera so I can resume my second love, photography, and I’m trying to get back into writing, but the only thing I like writing anymore is this story I started back when I was 11. It’s a total train wreck, full of copy cat ideas and my interests du jour, but I love it. I want to get into running again as well, but the more things I take up the more manic I feel. I feel manic and wired and sleepy all at once. One second I’m pacing around my apartment bored stiff, then the next moment I get an invitation to go out and I immediately recoil at the idea. What is my deal???
Anyway, I’m off to go munch on some banana chips and stew a bit more. Hope your night is less angsty than mine.
The Awkward Duckling