I haven’t written in a while. To be honest, I am afraid. I’m scared of what it means to search out happiness with all that I am.
I get up in the morning. Usually late. Usually I am exhausted and insta-stressed (yup, making up words here people). I lay in bed after my alarm goes off and check my work email. I’m not even kidding about this. Then I look at all of my social media outlets, all 5 of them, and pass back out. My alarm goes off 30 minutes later and I rush around the house like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get ready.
After that, I race to work. I get to work and it is just a blur. I barely have time to drink water or go to the bathroom. And yes, I work a desk job.
When I come home, my saving grace is yoga or looking forward to a night with friends. Sometimes I see my boyfriend whom I live with but most of the time he works nights.
That is my life.
And I want it to be so drastically different that I don’t know what to do first or where to go. I ask myself if it is this place that holding me back, my boyfriend, my grief, my anxiety. But I know the truth. It’s me holding me back. Nothing else.
Which is why I started this blog. And then stalled out on this blog. I’m terrified of investigating my heart and finding out what makes me feel content. I have pieces of it here and there now. But, what does long-term contentment look like?
I guess it is my life goal to find out.
“What is your favorite word?”
“And. It is so hopeful.”
– An interview with Margaret Atwood
And. Here goes.