So I took a break, for a few weeks, simply because I felt as if I had nothing to say. Or at least that’s what I thought, until now, after realising that I have indeed forgotten to not take myself so seriously. Just do the thing.
It’s really been a recurring theme in my life, I take everything way too seriously, put so much pressure on myself, that I just don’t do anything.
There’s a small window of motivation I find myself in during these times, to overcome my anxious ways and advance to higher, god like levels of existence. I start creating lists of tasks that will improve my general well-being, eat all the kale and spinach, create an impressive number of paintings and paragraphs that leave tears in my eyes. That is basically the golden hour of my cycle of stress, and then it all comes crashing down.
I put too many things on the list. Or I find that they are not bringing me joy. I resent my days. But it’s all in the name of self improvement, so its actually all fine, right?
I actually find it hilarious how often I have that mindset when, every single cycle without fail, I descend into a huge ball of self hatred and regret, wishing that I had taken it easier. Done something simply for the enjoyment of it. Relax.
I am in that space again now. Rejuvenated, scolding my past self for repeating useless patterns.
So maybe if I write about it here, I can hold myself accountable for working on the cycle, making sure I don’t take it all too seriously. Do things that I love. Don’t entertain that which makes me unhappy. One can hope, everybody.
Shell Spotted 