"...I'll be sitting here, in the same spot, still idle, when you get back" I think to myself when my husband yells up to my "office" to ask if there's anything I need from the store and tells me he will be back in 20 minutes or so. I say office in quotes, because the only thing office-y about this space in months is that a desk and a computer exist in it.
Every day, after I finish my stretches, I tell myself that I am going to sit at the computer and write, and almost every day, I do not. My intentions are good, my follow-through, not so much. I'm uninspired. I'm overwhelmed by the state of the world. I feel lost in the sea of life. I'm still trudging through personal and professional wreckage that is over 2 years old. It's exhausting.
I've talked to a few friends recently who are finding themselves in similar positions: in mid-life, feeling a bit rudderless, wondering what comes next and if it's worth it to go looking for it. While our life situations vary quite a bit, the feeling of unrest is not dissimilar. We've all wondered, for some different and some overlapping reasons, if the careers we had so eagerly sought out actually still fit for us (for me, the answer is a resounding NO). We've wondered what's next. We've wondered what our place is in the world. We've wondered if a world so full of uncertainty can support new dreams, we've wondered if we, ourselves, have enough "go get 'em" left in ourselves to chase those dreams.
Speaking for myself, I haven't had it. I all too often find myself in a state of not caring, feeling like the best part is over. That I've had my time in the sun and that maybe sitting idle in this office is not the worst thing in the world. And it's not, it's also certainly not what's best for me. I remember years ago, after a difficult time in my life, the person closest to me and it saying that the fire behind my eyes was gone. That's how I feel now, even more than 2 years after another difficult time. Except the fire in my whole body feels like it was extinguished and just the shell remains.
I woke up from something painful, but I still haven't gotten out of bed. I have flashes of inspiration, of moving forward. I'll be reminded that I am still capable of joy. I have periods of strength and conviction. And then, I'll remember that we live in a dumpster fire and wonder what the point is anyway. I have feelings of guilt for wanting to share my story, to get the pain I have been living with out of my body. I don't want to hurt people, yet, I've been here hurting myself for their sakes. I don't know how to push past that, but there is a voice deep inside that tells me I must. That if I do, things won't feel so bleak. That this dancing around my pain is not working and that it is the very thing that holds me back. That the reason all is see is bleakness is because that's how I feel inside.
I don't know what comes next. All I know right this second is that I needed to prove to myself that I can do more than sit idly looking at my phone instead of writing. And so I did.
Maybe that's just the right amount of "go get 'em" for now.