Today is March 6th, and a few things that I vowed to complete before March did not get completed.
Today is March 6th, and it marks one more day of being in bed all morning, even though I have the freedom to do so many things, yet I choose sleep over them.
It's 11:40am - I vowed to hit the gym at 9 or 9:30am, and I didn't. I just looked out my window to the YMCA next door and saw a gentleman over the age of 50 leaving after a workout - I bet it was a good one.
It's an interesting place to be when you find yourself "in a situation", an empass if you will, where you have an incredible ability to be highly capable and proactive, a go-getter and a creator, and you find that you have no desire to do any of those things.
I'm confident that I am not depressed, though I have questioned if I am in all of my hours alone, and thought that maybe I just can't tell because it's new territory. But I know that I'm not, because the thoughts or feelings that consume my day vary at a normal rate, and none are lasting feelings of dread, defeat, anxiety, or sadness.
What DOES dominate the space that seems to be my mind and body is apathy.
I've always been told that I am incredibly jaded, and have been from an early age. That fact was not lost on me from all of the times I was told so, and part of me minded, and part of me didn't. Though being told sometimes would be a reminder of how I should either be more grateful or not so condescending at the ripe age of 8 or 12, the jadedness meant that I was privvy to incredibly awesome stuff at a young age. I got to learn things and be around people that made life cool - of course I kind of couldn't help it when I was surrounded by others my age (or older!) who didn't seem to have the ability to see anything past themselves or a 20 mile radius.
But here I am now - jaded and apathetic, with nothing to show for it. At least that's how I'm currently feeling.
I'm very prone to be glass-half-empty. Proud of it too at times. Some people who meet me couldn't believe that I'd be that way - they think I'm so outgoing and encouraging, that a pessimistic worldview couldn't coincide with that type of person, but it absolutely can. It reminds me that there are usually two sides to every coin; yet the realistic, worst-case-scenario outlook on life never leaves, no matter how happy I am. It has it's pro's in the world of strategic planning or whatever, but it's not usually a party favorite... that's for sure.
Back to the feeling of having nothing to show for my apathetic jadedness. It's now 11:52, and I'm still in the bed. The difference now is that I'm "on" the bed - it's been made versus demolished. A made bed can change everything. It's incredible how the look and feel of the room can be completely different dependent on if the bed is made or not. It kind of fascinates me.
I remember a gentleman (one of those "cool people" I got to know in my earlier years) sharing how when he was mentoring or working with young men who would come to them with their woes about their spiritual lives or other, he'd ask if they make their bed every morning. To some, that seems like a trivial thing to be related to faith or success. Of course, succcessful people know (or I assume they do) that making a bed every day can be a big deal: not only does it provide an action to start your day, but it can symbolize the closing off of slumber, of laziness, and create order and structure, and an accomplished feat to start your day with. Add a wife into the mix, it can be one way to make her happy/defeat any potential strife before it starts. If the bed is made or not can completely define and/or represent what the day will look like.
I love having a made bed. It looks good and makes it more exciting to pull the covers back and crawl into at night. I get it. Since I "learned" this lesson all those years ago, I can't say that every day since then has meant a made bed from yours truly, but it has more than not. But if it's made or not hasn't necessarily been the problem - it's just getting out of it, even when I know my body is awake and ready to go.
I recently played at the House of Blues in Dallas, TX. It was kind of a big deal, in that a lot of people hear that and think "ooh! that's a big deal!" In reality, it was hard to get even a few friends to show for my 35-minute set. Now yes, it was the middle of the week & Ash Wednesday, and the success isn't defined by how many people showed up (or is it?), but it does have an affect on you for sure. I was thankful for the gig, despite of giving a B+ performance versus an A- (the B+ determined thankfully by musician friends that know me better than most on this earth, so I took it with gratitude though feeling it was B- for sure). It could've been an A-, maybe, if I had practiced more. I'm out shape in every way, and I'm feeling it. The angst of being out of the groove and trying to get back into it is coupled with the questions of IF and WHY - Would it have been amazing IF I had practiced more, or is this the level I'm at? WHY should I practice to be a better musician at all?
Pretty silly questions, I know - but there is no denying that I have returned to the empass that is deciding "what I want to do with my life" - and I realize that I really don't want to make that decision, despite every ounce of me wanting to. This also includes the question of this feeling that I have that I owe it to people, to jazz (oh the irony!), to the world somehow to keep making music. It's a feeling that I kind of trust or believe, but part of it feels like a reputation thing that is based out of fear. As someone who doesn't love music to to the point of having to play an instrument or sing on the daily, it can be really hard to balance this talent/gift thing versus "what I want", especially when I'm unsure as to what I want. It becomes clear again with some structure and purpose, but the ever-changing thought of what matters and what to focus on can be difficult.
At the end of the day, I know that everything is related, and part of my apathy, the lack of direction, and the lack of drive, relates to my spiritual health - it might even be the consequence of it. I don't think I can chalk it all up to the 20-something's, Millenial dilemma of finding myself and everything that comes with - I straight up know that I'm being rebellious and I don't want to get real with things such a discipline. Got the head knowledge of "being in the Word daily", but it's not something that I desire; so I'll read the articles about what to do when you're not desiring God, etc etc etc, and still get nowhere.
I've known since the craziness of 2016 that the key word of 2017 would be DISCIPLINE - because I knew deep down that despite becoming a married woman, I would be left alone to my own devices: to actually decide if I would work for myself, take care of myself, and put others before myself. 2017 is the real world, and though so far I'm not super impressed, I realize that it's not "life" to be underwhelmed by - it's me.
With all that being said, it's March 6th - the bed is made, and I am going to go work out.
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