I’m going to be honest. I’ve been boiling in a pit of bitter acid for the better part of this year. Waking up in the middle of the night, feeling sorry for myself, comparing my life to others, lamenting my lack of “success,” roiling around in why them and not me, and all that useless, horrible crap ingrates like me do.
I’ve been here before and likened the icky envy and inner angst to feeling like demons who roost in your soul and darken your walls. I’ve craved a spiritual cleansing of sorts, a wiping away of the bad feelings and anger, for that’s what it’s become. Bitterness roots inside you and once it grows, it entangles around who you are, until you’re quite unlike the person you know you can be. At first, I looked at that old post and thought, “Hey, I wrote that in April! My discontent must be an infrequent Spring thing,” but no. This is how I do. It’s how I do. I turn my attention on other people, worry about what they’re doing, and why I’m not doing it. The Rock always tells me it must be exhausting to be me, and he is so right. I’m at the end of myself.
The knowledge that I’ve allowed hurt and anger to flourish in me is humbling. I made the choice to let it happen that way. To feel less than. To muddle my creative process. To take away my power.
Truth? Over the past five months, negativity has poked holes in me like a sieve and my energy rushed out the gaps, leaving me altogether empty.
I’m not even going to get into the reasons why, they don’t matter.
What matters is what I do now.
The irony of all this is that there are some pretty wonderful things happening for me RIGHT NOW, and my eyes have been closed to them, or turned elsewhere.
Such silliness, isn’t it?
EVERYONE deserves to be happy.
P.S. Please don’t hate me because I’m a giant ball of lame introspection.