So often i am paralyzed by a weariness for this cultural story we’ve established. Of doing enough and being enough and working hard. “Success” defined as dollars in the bank and the amount of free time to do life how I want it. I dont want it, but at the same time in the absence of any system of tangible aspiration i spiral out into chaos.
The universe is moving more and more towards chaos they say, entropy. For me to function at all, I must have boundaries and guards along the borders of my psyche to insist upon my compliance. Left to my own devices i will, like a released inmate into the public world, let my worst get the best of me. I will eat my confusion in the weight of chocolate and my mind will take me to weird and dark landscapes and then kick me out of the passenger door, tires screeching.
I cannot be left in a desert of possibility. I really can’t. Without some kind of defining or edges to my terrain, I am pure pandemonium. But it is also a fine balance. With too much of my boundaries filled in, I feel muzzled and scratch at the transparent walls of my reality-shrieking to get out.
So how to impose and enforce and at the same time free myself? In some ways I feel like this is this weird little cycle I play. I impose these arbitrary rules that I base on some circumstantial evidence. I follow said rules with the conviction of a saint because of the logic and idealized outcome of strict adherence. Then I stalk myself to find my own weak spots and show up with just the right distraction for myself at just the point that ive become bored with my current regimen and woo myself with a man or chocolate or carbohydrates or another idea that will fulfil my wildest dreams of creativity and financial and social success. And then BAM i’m suddenly and consistently 5 lbs heavier, on the fringe of depression and lost in a confused rave of fear, ambition, hope, despair and my veins are once again filled with the weight of the utter senselessness of it all.