I didn’t know how to describe myself to a dear friend tonight. “I’m great… I mean, I’m struggling, but the alone time has been very productive.”
“I’m learning to date myself.”
I am struggling. I am also blooming. Growing. Listening more.
I couldn’t express the joy and sadness I am experiencing. I’m sad about how my job has turned into a shit job and the money doesn’t even cover my mortgage. So, I’m underwater on a monthly basis. I have been writing with a fury and giving myself a pass on the essentials of bill paying, cleaning house, and … Well, I am doing great on self-care.
I have a tendency to see things as all good or all bad. I wanted to tell her how everything was super good. But I know it’s not true. What I’m learning, again, for the first time is: inner joy is my natural state. Others might call it manic, self-obsessed, narcissistic. I don’t have use for those labels. I’m doing my own thing. Alone again.
I have to get going. I know what I need to do. Carve back some of the writing and content creation time. Focus on submitting the novel for publication. Go after that. Write yes, but pause all other motions to give this one the full force of my attention. The tip of the spear is the first book, The One and the Zero.
I’m leaning in. Still applying for jobs daily, going to my 40-hour-a-week standing job, and living my best life. Given the circumstances, I’m quite happy, even in my poor state of being.
One thing. The book.
