Lit

Sidewalks on the way home.

When I can walk out the front door of my office at the end of business hours, and there is yet enough daylight to warrant the donning of the sunglasses…the future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades.

This winter battered me up & worked me over pretty good, like a boxer who seent one too many haymakers.  It weren’t so much a ‘seasonal depression,’ because I never felt like I suffered from a lethargy or apathy…but perhaps a sort of anxious fear.  A fear of missing out on that which I would or could be doing.  #SeasonalFOMO, in the parlance of our times.

A fear that maybe despite all I am doing, there is more I should be doing.  Anxiety, because I have no idea what that even means.

This is how I know I am still, every new day, learning (re-learning) what life without alcohol is like: because for the better part of the last two years, my sole focus was job. job. job. employment. paycheck. career. work. work. work. anything.
I finally achieved that this January…and then was promptly about-faced by Nature’s Bitch Slap (aka the winter elements).  How the hell do you fill the off hours when you have completed the primary directive you had been blindly chipping away at for dozens of months??

So I have a purpose that I set an alarm to wake up and fulfill Monday through Friday…great!

What now?

My recovery program may or may not be intersecting with a quarter-life crisis.  Probably not though.

I think what’s really happening is that my personality is looking for growth, but unsure of exactly in what ways to seek it.
The more sober time I have, it seems…the less sure I become of what I want in life.  Perils of living as a vulnerable individual, trying to work a simple program, in a hypercomplex society, I suppose.

Simultaneously, I can feel myself being stretched thinner (not literally, unfortunately) by a list of adult responsibilities that only ever seem to be added onto; never taken away from.
Because the challenge I now face is: well, I know I’m feeling this way…but am I going to do the work to prioritize my life, so that I can constructively address what I’m going through?

More meetings; less excuses.  More meditation; less mindless scrolling.  More exercise regiments, better diet; less lounging, fewer frozen foods.  And reading.  So much reading I can do!  It’s a total cop-out and I can’t even take myself seriously for typing this, but I could almost propose that having a sworn duty to blog a daily entry forces extended contact with my laptop.  Almost.  The immediate workaround: stay an extra 30-60 minutes in the office at the end of the day; write from there.  Right from there, my office that’s a 10-minute walk from home.  See?  Laughably bad reason to say I have no choice but to bullshit around online, and that’s why I’m not picking up a book.

Like everything else I’m touching on here, all it would take is a minor adjustment of habit & priority.

I’m being tested.  I’m testing myself, really.
Whether I pass or not will depend entirely upon me, and my willingness to push myself out of my comfort zone.

‘If you want what you never had, you have to do what you never did.’

———

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