In one of last month’s entries, I expressed a feeling of the burden of having to “clean up” after myself. Finding a starting point for that effort has been a troublesome process. In the time so far, I’ve used what little time I’ve been able to allot to my writings trying to think of what to write next to move the process along, each day passing filled with unsatisfactory ideas. Invariably, I lose patience, and shift my focus to jumping haplessly across all the various other things I’m currently working on. Of all my projects, the two that I feel carry the most importance are my weight-loss progress and the development of my writing abilities. Since they’ve become so deeply intertwined, a lack of progress with one can drastically affect the other.
As I’ve been mulling the problem over in my head, one detracting factor I identified for myself is my detachment from the larger narrative that I’m currently working with. There’s been so much that’s happened even the last year alone that I’ve forgotten a lot of what it was that I wrote. Over the past couple hours, I’ve spent my evening re-reading all of my previous entries, both published and privately archived, to fully reacquaint myself with the story of me that my younger past selves have established so far. They’ve proven to be a very helpful read. After spending so much time honing my skill at the art of detachment over the recent years, I’ve been living in a state of suppression wherein my past has been treated as a set of foreign memories that I have collected in my brain as opposed to my own actual life story. It’s been very helpful in affording me the distance & emotional divestment to process and resolve all of my past unresolved issues, but it’s also made it hard to lay claim to my “self” if my self perception is so myopically focused on the constant transitional nature of life.
Having all the outstanding matters I’ve written about in the recent past fresh in mind, it requires very little effort on my part to figure out my next steps. The more I lower my guard against myself and begin to embrace my past and my life as my own, the more I find myself reconnecting with that “flow” whose constant presence I’ve missed. Those times where I manage to find it via a “runner’s high” is probably a good reason why I’ve come to enjoy running so much. Similarly, I recently read about a study linking emotions to decision-making, and am open to the idea that all the effort I exerted in such strenuous emotional repression may have been a strong cause behind all of the analysis paralysis I’ve struggled with.
If I were faced with the dreaded “tell me about yourself” interview question just mere weeks ago, I would have been unable to provide a satisfactory response. I wouldn’t have known where to begin; for so long, my story has been focused on recovering from a mental-emotional crisis, trying to rediscover the better parts of myself while wrestling with a transient-near-nihilistic outlook on life. I became the weakness and lamentations so thoroughly that I forgot all about my past strengths and accomplishments. Now, I’d be able to effectively communicate my story, as it stands so far. It’s not yet reached the point where it gets really good yet, but I can at least now see myself moving steadily in the proper direction.