#writingtowrite

Somewhere along the line I forgot to create my life. I was just moving through it, waiting for things to happen. And.. sometimes they did.

But I had forgotten that I had the wonderful gift, to fill my life with whatever I wanted. I think, well I think I wasn’t even thinking about it; I figured I knew how to live a life. Isn’t it just something we’re born knowing how to do?

It didn’t help I was always relying on someone else to create my life. I’d follow around a significant other and adopt their life-- like a cuckoo bird stealing a nest.

Now that I’m finally on my own, I was able to look around, and saw my half-baked life. I realized the mistake I made in the process of waiting and leaving my life empty, was using the mindless act of scrolling through social media to fill my days outside of work. It sounds almost idiotic to admit. What did I expect? Of course you’ll feel empty, you haven’t done anything to fill yourself.

I’m not saying I haven’t done anything with my life until now. I have had fun, I’ve created fond memories. I’m not saying I didn’t make decisions or take chances.

But I forgot that the spaces in between matter too. How you spend your evenings after work. What you do on a day off. Who you choose to spend your time with. Deciding to dance, making art, singing, listening to music, reading a book, playing with your pet, talking to a friend vs… sitting alone on your phone. I felt so exhausted, it’s like that’s all I had the energy to do, just sit there. Sure sometimes I laughed. And sure I would send messages to my friends, but I wasn’t living.

I feel so often a worry that I don’t have all I need within me. I guess that’s true for all living things. But I mean in a less physically way. I feel I need others to inspire me- to live and to create. It’s almost as if I can’t do either on my own, only some half-assed version of them. I’m not sure if anyone else feels like this.

For a long time I wouldn’t cook for myself, it seemed like so much effort, just to eat for a few minutes, and then have to wash the dishes after. But I realized later that, there was a deeper message I was telling myself in that. That I’m not worth cooking for if it’s just me. And that is harmful, and sad. I still need to fight against that feeling, almost daily actually. I’d been calling myself lazy, but really it wasn’t laziness, I would’ve cooked if someone else was there with me, it was a weird form of self-hatred. Why is living so much effort when I’m alone? It’s because I thought for so long: life was only worth living for/with another. Geez, I wonder where I got that idea? Maybe it was the rom coms I watched growing up. Or just the general narrative that gets told to young girls. Even now, the topic of my single life is often retorted with “You’ll find someone new”, not “You’ll learn to make a life for yourself”, the only exception being my therapist and other older women.

I was thinking about my mindset as a child the other day, how present I was in the moments I lived. Seeing the dappled light through the trees, watching fireflies in the summer nights, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, hearing the sound of winter wind blowing in the night.

Now I’m so very often taken out of the moment by my adult thoughts. Thinking of things I need to do or of the terrible events transpiring in the world. Is there a way to escape those thoughts? I do yoga and workout out, it seems only when my body is doing something so taxing I can’t help but focus on that instead.

My therapist said I should try meditating, it’s just hard for me to make it a routine.

Time is a funny thing. You cut your nails one day, the next they’ve already grown back. The passage of time is faster now. The weeks pass so much quicker than ever before. You realize it’s been months since you’ve seen a certain friend once you get together again. It’s been years since you’ve seen your childhood best friend. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve already seen someone for the last time without even knowing it.