I’ve been making every excuse in the world not to write. Ideas seem to be fleeting more than ever before.
What I can’t get down on (digital) paper has been oozing out onto a canvas, however, which I feel good about. I have so few art supplies at the moment that it feels silly to even attempt to paint something meaningful. Thus far, though, I’m making it happen. I think it’s either a testament to my strong will or ability to manifest anything I please.
In between painting, I’ve been reading than I’ve done in months (maybe years?). There’s something to be said about others’ behavior rubbing off on you, even if only through osmosis. Since I arrived in Colorado, I’ve done nothing but surround myself with people who operate on the same wavelength — unintentionally. I know I owe a lot to The Universe for putting me in this position, but I’m also trying to remember to give myself some credit. So much of how I finally got to this point is by [once again] doing The Hard Things that some people put off their entire lives.
I’ll make excuses not to write/draw/paint all day long, but you better believe I’ll never procrastinate on my own life.
I spent more time than I should’ve loathing that position, which I’ve been put in a million times—the one where no one else will bite the bullet. I like to think I did it gracefully, however. I let myself feel that anger in a little corner of my mind in hopes of preventing it from evolving into resentment. I still have a little ways to go, but I know the worst has passed.
This afternoon, my therapist reminded me that I have no closure on just about anything right now. To that extent, we both agreed that I’m holding up tremendously well. This is combined with the fact that I experience dozens of moments every day where I have to pause, just to absorb the stark contrast from everything I left behind.
There seem to be varying levels of concern among people back home in New England. I’m running out of ideas to help quell their worst fears, which differ, depending on the person. However, I think my problem lies in trying to soothe them. Everything isn’t okay right now, but it will be, so it doesn’t have to be at this very moment. Knowing that has been the reason why I’ve made it thus far—the only piece of information fueling me on my worst days.
But what if I told you I now know that the worst ones are behind me?
