In one moment I feel powerful. An overwhelming sense of confidence fills me up with the knowledge that I can and will drive right to where I mean to be. I fly high in that bold moment; I look down upon my fellow man and wonder why we aren’t all flying. Come on, friends. It’s so easy. You just flip that switch in your mind – it’s better than stealing a sip of Fizzy Lifting Drink, and without penalty! Just do it.
But always, always, I come down. The next moment comes, and I am filled with self-doubt and a sense of impossibility. Fizzy Lifting Drinks aren’t real, but is there a way to make that confidence real, to bottle it, to preserve it and drink from it as needed?
Yesterday was a good day. The day before that was terrible in the morning but extremely successful as evening pressed upon us. Last night was alright, but really, I fell asleep consumed with worry over…. gasp…. money. Honestly, that one little word just feels so heavy. What I want seems so possible when I really think about it, and I believe in my heart and head that it can actually happen, but that is without factoring in the green devil. When my rational mind turns to the necessity of the paper notes that hold symbol of my value (this is sick, right?), my stomach churns and little sparks begin setting off in my brain. This worry snatches my breath away, it makes me dizzy, it makes me tired. I just want to lie down and stop thinking.
For a moment, I feel a flash of jealousy toward my friends who have loads of cash and don’t need to worry as I do. But then I remember that they worry, too. They just worry about other things. In a way, their worries are even greater than mine because so many things in life come easy for me. Relationships. Love. A sense of direction. Knowing what I want. These are things that cannot be bought, and they are things I’ve rarely had to give much thought. I don’t claim to know what my friends really worry about, but of course they worry. We all do.
I’d very much like to not worry, but I suspect that there will always be something.
Okay, all of that aside, or maybe to go along with this line of thought: it was officially proven to me this weekend that I have a terrible time focusing on one task at a time. Even right now I am answering emails, replying to texts, thinking about changing the laundry, and eating a snack – all whilst writing this blog post. This creates a problem in that I am not able to complete anything of value in a timely fashion. I am spread thin, and perhaps this is a large part of why I feel overwhelmed so often. There is so much to do, and I always, always, feel as though there is so little time in which to do it. Everything is of equal priority, but that is impossible. I set myself up to feel as though I have failed, even as I am succeeding. It’s such a strange pattern I have chosen to weave. Perhaps I should dispose of this one, burn it to the ground (the Phoenix, always it comes back to the Phoenix) so that I may start fresh.
A scary thought. But one that always works.
Matches. I need matches!
Or to just focus on one thing. To shift this pattern ever so slightly. Yes, that’s a much better plan.