August 8, 2016 8:34 am EDT
Here’s my truth. I’m still afraid to shine. I self-medicate with distractions, reading and Netflix mostly, and give myself little time to actually enjoy life in solace and sensation because I’m still scared I won’t be able to live my dreams.
But part of the bitch of it is that I *am* living my dreams, at least many of them. I’ve not smoked in six months, I’m drinking lots of water and I’m eating healthy. I write lots, over half a million words this year.
But I push myself increasingly harder. And I wear down and wear out and fizzle. When I wrote a hundred thousand words in a month I wanted to write a hundred and twenty the next. When I lost two inches from my waistline, I wanted to lose three more, and fast. Faster, faster, faster until I get overwhelmed and then just say fuck it and lose most all my momentum in the soul-sucking malaise of exhausted mindlessness.
For years I’ve shunned the idea of balance as seeking balance can be a trap which often leads to trying to control the whole of life. That’s true, but it’s not the whole truth. A balanced approach to balance is healthy, seeking, but not *needing* balance. Work, play, rest, live. Risk, love, dance, enjoy. Practice unremitting focus, but not all the time, for that leads to exhaustion, and exhaustion, whether physical, mental, or emotional, is the antithesis of focus.
I was sick Friday, nothing serious, just a head cold, but it was odd because it’s so rare for me. I’ll take it as a sign. Stop pushing myself so hard all the fucking time. Sprints are fun, enjoyable, and productive, but prolonged sprints wear me out and I lose momentum.
A balanced approach to balance says that it’s sometimes good to sprint but it’s usually better to walk or jog. Metaphorically.