I used to be a writer; I wrote. But when I was sick, I thought it was too hard to write. So I didn’t write that often. I thought all of the time. I wanted to write, but the thoughts never seemed to form complete thoughts. They were incomplete. Not finished. Scattered. Like my mind. And my thoughts. Now that I am better (whatever better really is), I realized that I have been scattered my entire life. Being “sick” was just an excuse to not write. To not confront those thoughts. Or sort them out. And I still don’t want to. Yet here I am, writing on my laptop after a long ass time. Even I wonder where this is going.
This “this” could be anything: my life in general, my health (even though I am “better”), my career, my relationship with my boyfriend (the same one I’ve had for 3 years), my current living situation, my change in status from thinker to writer, or even this post. Or maybe it will be none of those. Because if I deal with one of those, the rest will have to be dealt with as well. And some of those things I don’t want to deal with; I have to deal with them. It’s like a chain. Thinking leads to writing, then sorting and enlightenment, then action, and pretty soon my entire world is upside down and totally changed.
That’s what actually needs to happen. And you and I both know it. But I am tired. I just want to relax. I was just fighting for my life the past 2 years. I’m tired. I don’t want to have to do MORE work. But I am not entirely happy. I am tired and want to relax. Sometimes I think I might be depressed, but then I don’t. I think if I were depressed, I wouldn’t want to change things for the better. But wait. I don’t. Remember? I wrote that I want to relax. Vicious cycle. I guess I will start with baby steps today. Thinking and then writing. And I’ve done that, so I am now taking the first step in changing everything. Scary.