As they swirled around me, I watched as several of them took off running, the wind at their backs, life seemingly on their side. Several others caved in on themselves under the weight of stressful jobs and bad break-ups.
Both groups eventually hit roadblocks. When things were going well, they had the tendency to become complacent, assuming it would always be that way... until it wasn't. When things were going badly, they gave up altogether, refusing to break a sweat and prostrating themselves before the altar of comfort food.
I, myself, got a few pieces of shit news recently that flattened me for a few weeks. I did a whole lot of whining about why things weren't working out or why I didn't have time to write or exercise. But the fact is, that's all they were, grand excuses convincingly concocted in my own mind. The fact is, if I can find 20 minutes in my day, I can write down a few words or complete a few quick exercises.
I seem to always make space for Girls or Mad Men when I want to.
Eventually - meaning yesterday morning - I had to look up and remind myself that, however things are going, my clients and I really have only two choices. We can surrender to the heaviness in our lives, or we can press on, striving always to lighten up.
The thought of succumbing to a life without writing, without creative cliff-jumping, in a stiff, unappreciated, overburdened body, took me to depths of depression I haven't seen in over a decade. I toyed with that darkness these past few weeks, but I can't choose it going forward. It's not a life I can bear living, especially by my own choice.
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So, I am hereby done pouting - at least for now, for this round. It is officially time to remove the cozy, tie-dyed, winter onesie and proceed.
Press on, people. The other option is no good.
