The story I’m living

I’m in a strange mood today. It was hard to get out of bed this morning, and all day I’ve been plagued with a feeling of wanting to get something done, and not really knowing what.

I think I need to call foul on myself. I think I really do know what I need to do, and I’m just avoiding it again. The next, most practical thing on my plan to beat the fear-monster is to call at least one temp agency and see if I can get some basic office-work job, and I’m not doing it. There’s a lot of resistance in me toward doing this, and has been for a long time.

If I’m not letting myself off the hook for dragging my feet over something simple and needed, then I want to understand why. Which is where I’m stuck too. I can think of numerous possible reasons for my hesitation, and I’m sure at least some of them are valid and real. Not valid as excuses to avoid doing something needful, but valid as explanations for why the hesitation exists.

I don’t know if it matters, though. I have a feeling that understanding isn’t really going to help me with what’s important, which is: go through the fear and hesitation. Go out and find work. Go do something.

Instead of indulging myself by navel-gazing about the emotional and psychological causes of my avoidance behaviors, I’m writing about it here, and for very specific reasons, ones I understand well and don’t need to navel-gaze at all about. This post is part of my story, you see, the story I am starting to tell about my process of change and the life I’m building. The story about the fear-monsters and the time I stood up to one of them and changed something for good, the time I gained more courage and strength, more skills and savvy, and then took on the next monster in line and did something even bigger.

That’s the story I want to tell. But it’s a real-life story, and it’s only just starting. I can’t make this one up in words until I make it up by my actions and choices, and then I can tell you all how it went.

I want to have great things to say here, I want to write a life-story that inspires other people and helps them take on their own monsters. That means a lot to me; I find, as I have been writing these posts, that this matters to me more than I ever would have thought. Stories are so important to us. We need good stories badly, to help us navigate a hard world with grace and courage. I want to write a good one. I want to live a good one. Those are the most important stories of all, the ones that people dare to live and make incredible.

I can let myself down; I can slack off on stuff, if it’s only me that gets hurt by it. Not that this is really true, but if I can tell myself that something doesn’t matter because it’s only about me, I believe it too easily.

It’s different, starting to write the words that make up my story as I live them, showing other people the manuscript in progress. Now it’s not entirely personal anymore, or feels like it isn’t. Now it’s bigger, more important, more meaningful. Maybe it’s not really that it’s “more” of those things, but it helps me see that the life I live is always, has always been, important and meaningful. Or at least that it has the potential to be.

If I want to make a good story, then stuff needs to happen. If I am living this story before I get to write it, then I need to make stuff happen. Very simple. Writing about what I’m doing and avoiding doing is a goad I need to push me forward. It’s time to get on with the next scene.


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