Some days we wake up and think, "I know what I'm doing." We shine bright and get our work done on time. We clock out, get drinks and we step into the light of our actualized selves, all glittering and golden like some neon-encrusted Vegas sign.
Other days we fall down a flight of stairs with our grocery bags in hand, bracing our fall with our backs against concrete stairs. We crush our eggs, and end up having to take a day off of work because we're fragile, human and completely incapable of doing something as simple as walking up a flight of stairs.
This exact fuck up may not have happened to you...but I"m sure something similar has.
When I woke up this past Monday...I thought, "Oh fuck. My back. I can't move."
I had to call off work. And the overwhelming guilt I felt for calling off made me feel sick inside. Work is everything to me. It's pretty much all I have at this point in time. I don't have a lot of outside interaction and even when I do, it's forced and uncomfortable. I put everything I can into it. It's like a child to me...this odd thing I'm growing from the ground up. I just want things to work out. Is that too much to ask?
We want things easy. We do. And often we take two steps forward and three steps back in an attempt to make them that way.
Every miscommunication or problem we face is somehow attributed to our overcompensating for things we can't control. At least, that's what I've learned.
Every time I try to make something happen, and force myself into something...it ends up failing.
Why is that?
It's because I'm throwing myself out of balance. By pushing too hard, or putting too much stake in work, I end up forgetting about life itself...you know, the living part. Where you visit sights and get drinks with people you barely know. Where you wake up and make yourself breakfast, and lay around all day just watching movies and reading old books.Life is the distant thing that we forget about when work takes hold.
That balance, where you stand in the middle, and you work is on one end and your life is on the other. Teetering and tottering into existence like some kind of fucked up playground fixture.
When the teeter totter plunges into the ground, throwing me off in the process, I know I have to get it together. I can't force my life to happen. I have to embrace what I'm dealing with and let go.
Because holding on to things you can't control will end up killing you.
And in my defense, after all of the triumphs and downfalls I can say that every bad decision I've ever made was due to me holding on to something I had no control over.
Like not getting the part I wanted in a play.
Or getting mad at myself for getting sick and missing school.
Or holding a grudge against a significant other who had moved on before I could.
These violent thoughts of regret and anger have to leave my brain. Even if by force, I will get rid of them, and things will be better. I must fight them like a valiant hero. I must face myself at base value and realize that not every day will glitter like gold. Sometimes it's just a faint shimmer...or nothing at all. But that's okay because things ebb and flow. They teeter and totter.
I feel like sometimes, all the things I have to do are piled high against me. I'm sitting on one side, teetering, while they totter above me, waiting to topple and crush me.
But that's half the fun right? That danger...that at any moment, everything could fall down around you.