August 31st, 2023
I keep busy, I adhere to a well-made schedule, and stay occupied most of the time. My breaks are well-deserved and scheduled as well. I allow myself time for thinking and musing, but that always stays in the abstract-theoretical sphere only. Seems I am frightened and lack awareness of the reality and seriousness of the situation.
I take cover and find comfort in the daily routine and the repetitiveness of my activities. When something is lost from that routine, my anxiety starts going into overdrive. I look for approval in the superficial relations without much meaning and ignore those which might bring fruition, but will require a lot of hard work.
The number of distractions in my life grows proportionally to my anxiety. I lose myself in “having fun”, “learning”, “reading”, “hiking”, “physical activites”, “gardening” and “household chores”. And I am very good at that pretense living. A day doesn't have enough hours to fit all I want to do and what I need to fill my myself time.
I wallow in the dark, with a pretentious smirk and stupid grin — I am OK, and everything is fine. I keep busy and can do so many interesting things — just look at me jumping from a distraction to a distraction, like a pro avoiding reality. I keep busy and yet I accomplish nothing. And I don't want to have a life like that. I want more.
The problem with wanting more is that going beyond the expected and easy and comfortable can (and most likely will) bring aloneness and fear and anxiety and just nagging bewilderment, but mostly it brings too much freedom and too much responsibility for decisions and actions I can make for myself. That might be the most serious hang up I have.