I’m ending this year considering the things I’ve considered all along: am I victim? Do I show my good side enough? Do I talk about the good, as well as the bad? Or am I a constant whiner? A constant thinker? Constantly aware of all the discomforts, do I annoy people as much as I think I do? Actually, forget about people. Am I happy?
To answer the question, I need to ask myself what I would and wouldn’t change about myself or my circumstances.
I need less TV, more reading, more exercising, of course. But a more serious look at my life reveals something that needs more than the yearly “do more” fill-in-the-blank can address: control issues. Again and again, my desire to completely control myself and everything around me inflames my depression through workaholism that eventually drives me to illness with self-destructive patterns like restricting food and self-applied pressure to “succeed,” to surpass expectations, to be honest with myself.
Yet I have my words. I wonder if I would remember the good parts of life if I weren’t writing it all down, deriving meanings about my person from my every choice, accidentally journaling my life, hopefully preventing myself from repeating history. It’s difficult to denounce the obsessive thinking that, given the refocus I’ve given it this year, has become a great means to healing. And so, I won’t denounce it. Instead, I’ll promise myself to continue to focus this merciless tic on questions based in reality, not the chamber of fear behind my eyes.
As I review the last year, as I note the way I’ve matured and the ways I’ve failed myself, I realize there’s more to be said than I can get down tonight. As the 9-to-5 circumstance begins to weigh on my stamina, I’m beginning to find myself exhausted midway through writing any post. That upsets me, but it’s also forcing me to consider what my time is really worth. Looking into the new year at my new job and my new life, as new and ever-increasing responsibilities make greater demands on me, the value of my time will, no doubt, increase. Who and what will make the cut? The answer to that lies in a simpler question: if I’m getting tired midway through writing a post, what’s taking up the time writing used to occupy?
But I’m thinking again. Too much for one night. I need to go to bed. More tomorrow. I’ve promised myself.
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