“Lately it seems I can’t keep anyone happy. No matter how hard or fast I pedal, I constantly feel as if I am slipping backward as I head uphill.”
The Road Back to Yourself: The Second Journey — Joan Anderson
It’s time to put on my happy face and begin my day. Time to pretend I’ve got everything under control and push ahead. Time to postpone taking a day off because my cluttered calendar just won’t allow it.
But how much longer can I keep this up without completely falling apart?
“You haven’t written anything in a long time,” a friend recently said to me.
“I’ve been too busy to be inspired,” I replied, knowing that it’s just an excuse to push aside all the things that are churning inside of me … things that once released will scare and offend those who only know the happy side of me. But as I logged on to check on my last posting, the reality of my postponement hits me like a ton of bricks. It had been nine months since I’d written anything.
Where the hell has the time gone? I’ve been busy indeed. But what have I accomplished? I have lots to show for it, but inside I feel empty and alone.
My father died nearly three months ago. But that’s not the source of my funk. My journey into the dark night of the soul began a long time ago. And I can’t seem to navigate myself out of it.
So, I’ve chosen paths of which I am not proud. I’ve been drinking too much, eating too much, exercising too little, neglecting my inner voice — all the while self-sabotaging the very things that have been there to hold what’s left of me together. Things like my writing.
My soul is a caged animal in a zoo of abused and neglected beasts — and I am its abuser.
I feel no joy, no passion, no purpose. It’s no wonder I feel uninspired. No wonder I get so angry at others when I recognize myself in them.
I’m exhausted and depleted and I need rest. Not the sleep for 9 hours type of rest. The go away and be by myself and just be selfish type of rest.
I’m not talking about weeks. I’m talking about one day. A day without thinking. A day of just being. A day when I won’t care that my closet is cluttered and the laundry isn’t folded.
I won’t make anyone happy until I make myself happy. So for a while at least, life will have to go on without me.
See you in 24 hours.