Little Museums (heartgut) wrote,
Little Museums

I'm afraid of my own weariness, but I have hope for this world.

Years ago, I assumed that sacrifices could be temporary, and now I'm not so sure. There are a few possibilities:

Putting aside parts of one's self for a while in order to focus on pushing through challenging times is simply a matter of priorities; past the hard times comes a chance to feel whole again.

You can be different things at different times, but not all of those things all of the time.

Repression is what it's called. Or atrophy, depending on which parts of yourself you neglect to live out.

I haven't written regularly in years, and I forgot how much it helped to pull my identity together and draw out a deeper understanding of otherwise inchoate desires. Without it, I stay afloat as well as I can, but I don't feel anchored.

When I was younger, I was more inclined to mysticism-- I had a sense that I would finally feel right in the world once I figured out the right combination of steps: how to work in the community, how to step lightly, how to connect, how to create. I tried out as many combinations as I could grasp at, and have turned to something simpler: find work that adds up to something you can be proud of, that requires spending your day-to-day life in a way that suits your nature. I might not have a nature that is well suited to ease in many circumstances-- I'm scatterbrained, I'm anxious, I'm frequently morose. But I'm also shrewd, insightful, dogged, creative, empathetic, and charismatic. I've narrowed down the goals, but I no longer expect to feel right in a world of constant shifting chaos. Perhaps that's a healthier expectation, or maybe I'm just worn out.

I've made a big gamble with my near-future. We'll see where I wind up.
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