I Had A Point Once, But Hear Me Out Anyway

It’s exciting to be back in a writing mind. I’m eager to get my thoughts out, and I look forward to the dialogue my posts may open up.

But the mind to write isn’t the same mind to publish, and regaining that drive has been frustrating, to say the least. When I’m not meeting you all here, I’m meeting myself in my head. I write in my notebooks pretty often, here’s a look into what that looks like:

These pages are a visual interpretation of how I think. Colorful, all over the place, outside the lines, too much to even fit the boundaries of each sheet, and not even always in English. It’s hard enough for me to turn actual blog ideas into a coherent post, so I can’t say much of this book gets transferred here.

But I woke up this morning, drank some water, visited my notebook for a fresh new page, and wrote myself into a little mental breakdown. After I had a good cry and washed my face, I thought I might share some of what I wrote.

For a little context, I’ve been frustrated with myself and how easily I throw my plans aside for others’ sake when it’s not necessary or even noble to do. This constant self sacrifice has been eating at me in different ways and as I — eh, let me just quote the book and we can go from there.

Why are you so willing to hold yourself back? And also, why can’t I just cry? Sitting on the brink of myself is physically jarring. It hurts. The pain is strange.. It’s like being attacked by an internal black hole. Just an aggressive pulling, denying my escape, preventing the release, blocking the healing. No motive, just there. Tormenting.

I had a point to share all of this, but honestly the struggle to open up in this way took all of my focus away. It feels important still, so please excuse the scattered nature of this post.

All I can do at this point is ramble a little and hope it goes somewhere, so bare with me. I don’t mean to continue the same energy as the last post. You guys come here to laugh most of the time, and I’ll get to that. I want to get back to that.

But maybe it was that perceived pressure to be light and quirky and witty that led me to isolate myself when I felt none of those things. I’d rather be real with you than to not speak at all.

I was blown away at the reception of my last entry, actually. It wasn’t easy being that honest, and I really appreciate all of the responses I received, and the support and love. I don’t necessarily write with anything in mind besides clearing my head and shouting into the void about any and everything. So when my writing is actually relatable or helps in any way, even to just one person reading, it surprises and humbles me.

The more I write and share, the more I get to see the multidimensional nature of people, as well as myself, and it changes my worldview more and more each time. I feel empowered, I feel more forgiving and empathetic, I feel more curious, I feel more unaffected by fuckery, I feel hopeful.

I don’t really know how to wrap up this trash fire of a blog post. But hey, I hope any of you reading struggling to find that release from whatever finally snap. Because yeah, I woke up this morning and promptly fell apart, but I also got this written, drank water, moisturized my hair, and I’m gonna finish crocheting a scarf when I’m done typing this up on my phone(I’ll fix formatting issues when I get to a computer by the way) all before 11am! I can’t remember the last time I was this productive. Snap the fuck out, safely and constructively, but do it. Get there. Bye.

When The Plan Becomes The Problem

I have a problem.

I’ve come to recognize that my greatest strength is also my biggest weakness and I am suffocating under its weight.

I think too much.

My excessive thinking is getting in my way, and I need my mind to take several seats so I can grab the wheel and put the damn gear in DRIVE.

I like to plan. I get an idea, and I plan its execution. I think about how it can connect to other ideas and people, and causes greater than itself, and its legacy, and its color scheme, and its location, and its target demographic, etc. I talk about it and get people to rally behind. I make it a binder, with dividers, and sheet protectors, and a cover page to slide in the little transparent front insert and the little side insert. And I plan on top of those plans, and flesh out grander schemes of my initial points.

Nobody is going to tell me that’s my problem. Planning is a good thing, and I’m very thorough. What’s bad is to be impulsive and to act before thinking.

But actually, I don’t know which is worse. I kind of envy the other extreme. At least they’re doing something.

Doing.

That’s the problem with planning, with thinking. When does it turn into action? Will it ever?

It doesn’t have to…

And I have found myself here, at this point, where planning has become paralyzing.

It’s a rut.

I’ve been in a rut.

The sinister thing about this kind of rut is that you’re encouraged to stay there. It’s a mirage of getting your shit together. It’s a mirage of having a good outlook and direction. You have a plan! So you’re clearly going somewhere, right?

…Right?

Planning is a convenient escape from the responsibilities of actually getting to where you want to go. You can justify this escape because you always appear to be doing something. You’re planning. That’s commendable. Psychologists have studied this topic. Just talking about your plan and getting praise for it boosts your self-identity as if you already achieved that goal. So you don’t work towards it anymore. Planning halts momentum.

So this is me saying I’m sick of not doing. I realize that I can’t plan away risk. I accept my planning as fuel for my fears of both failure and success. I’m going to think less and just do. I don’t want to always be on the way. I’m going to reach my goals. I am not SEPTA. I refuse to be SEPTA.

SEPTA slogan
A slogan as pathetic as it is brilliant.

PS, that picture ended up being a thumbnail for a YouTube video of “We’re Getting There (official music video)” by Michal Pearl Waldfogel. You should check it out and have a laugh, because it was a comical find.