Thursday, June 30, 2016
To be honest I'm not at all sure what it is that keeps me going. What it is that makes me put two feet on the floor every morning. It might be that I have some deeply planted bit of hope and optimism that won't die not matter what life throws my way. I could have a sense of purpose that I don't fully understand. Or it might just be that I really have to pee and the cat needs to be fed, and well, now that I'm up and awake I might as well go on with my day.
I don't really know what got me through the past five years of school/work/create/dance/teach/live. I could say it was my meticulous planning and scheduling, but I'm as much a procrastinator as the next guy and, well maybe I work well under pressure. I had some support, lots of, "Go team!" and "Atta-girl, you can do this." It must have helped - I mean at least no one was saying I was crazy or that I ought to pack it in and go home.
I don't have a secret. There is no special formula or magic plan. Most days I wake up full of self doubt. I face nearly crippling anxiety at least a couple of times a week. I live with depression and a really, really, really not so great self image.
Yes, there are days that I look in the mirror and I manage to smile. I also hate to see things left undone or half finished. I like things neatly completed with the tools tucked away in their proper place after the work is done. There is a need that I have to do right by those that love me, to make them proud of me - maybe it's that I need to feel worthy of the love that I'm given.
Other's might say I'm just terribly driven. That I get something in my head and I have to see it through, even if it exhausts me or makes me, however temporarily, crazy.
The truth is that I wish I knew. I wish I knew because if I did...then when I have those really tough days. The ones where I just want nothing more than to stay in bed, covers over my head, bedroom door shut, curtains drawn, leaving the world for someone else to manage...and can't I please, please, please just stay here for a week in utter silence???
If I knew, if I could name it, then when I had those moments (days, weeks...), I'd have something to draw on. If I knew what it was then I could make it at will and then maybe, those other days...there would be less of them.
But I don't know. I can't name it. And so, I go on. Without answers, without knowing. Accepting that whatever it actually is, that it will always be there simply because it always has been.
Maybe, that's enough...