January 4, 2021
That’s what it is. Caged up. Energy to burn, satisfaction wanted, but choosing tasks is difficult. But why choose to do anything? There’s enough in my everyday to keep me busy. With existence dwindling, my focus is on happiness.
I need to publish a book. Poetry, short stories, a novel. Getting closer to this, but daily writing like this feels most important, as it resets my mental and emotional state so I’m able to function.
Writing makes me feel better.
I was a teenage boy that kept a dairy. Then, you were considered a weirdo. Now, kids are encouraged to keep tabs on their feelings, as they should. For me, it was my way of survival. I used to believe that my old journals were useless, but that was because I feared what people would think if they read them.
I feared what I would think, what I’d remember, if I read them.
That’s changed with this fresh perspective. This sobriety. The layers of “reality” stripped away every minute. And I’m looking forward to opening those old journals–those awful diaries–tonight, and remembering all the steps taken to get here. Married. Raising children. Aging. And still writing.
I can’t beat myself up for the person I was, the choices I made. Guilt stifles creativity, prevents vulnerability, and forces familiar behavior. We grow from stepping outside our comfort zone.
Releasing guilt, loving where we came from, and embracing our ugliness, reinforces our humanness.
This existence is to be explored and it is about discovering individual potential. This is done by reaching out. Digging into as much as possible with as much gusto as one can muster. That’s how we unlock the gate, bend the bars, free ourselves from the cage, and run.