Sometimes it can feel harsh to be forced out of a rut. I may be miserable, but sometimes there’s a familiarity in being stuck that can feel like comfort somehow. And then I am forced into action. Having to face the decisions I’ve been slowly hiding from.
I resist and get angry and hate the world.
And if I’m lucky, I then reflect and see the greater picture. I’m so thankful when those moments happen.
Yet again I find myself back in my family home, licking wounds. But this time is different. This time it’s not falling into a pit, it’s climbing out of one. During the drive here I couldn’t help but smile as the thought crossed my mind: “here’s to the end of the making bad decisions era, and here’s to stepping into the era of finally making good decisions for myself.”
Because that’s what it feels like. It feels like the last period of time has just been one bad decision after the next. And in a weird way I can see how I was making those choices on purpose. A last ditch attempt at not growing up. A final hurrah. Kind of like a little kid running around the candy store trying to shove as much candy in their mouth before they knew it was time to leave the store.
Because I saw leaving the store as missing out.
But what I’ve realised is I’ve actually reached a place where I no longer want the candy. And that’s a huge shift in perception. I now understand that candy makes me sick, and I don’t want to feel sick anymore.
I want to live with ease- not just in wording, but in action. I want the peace of not being constantly at war with myself. And I finally feel ready to be there. It’s scary. It’s a place I’ve never been. It doesn’t feel like adventure. It feels boring and mundane and unfamiliar. And maybe that’s what peace is. I wouldn’t know.
Maybe after a lifetime of chaos, it takes a little adjusting to understand that just maybe, actually feeling good isn’t boring, and isn’t the same as being stuck, and doesn’t equal being trapped, or doesn’t equal death.
Maybe it equals choosing life. Maybe it means that I can stop proving to myself that I can survive, and realising that that’s no longer the goal. Because survival isn’t a goal, it’s an emergency response- not a way of life. It’s time to stop being that rat, pushing the red button to get my quick-fix pellets to drop. There is no emergency anymore, and I need to stop creating situations to feel like there is. It’s an artificial high.
I want the real deal. And finally I’m ready to do the real work.