…I’m supposed to say don’t, right?
The past month has been the most rigorous I’ve underwent. Working a job in 90 degree heat eight hours straight, and more importantly a job that isn’t doing me any favors or challenging me whatsoever in the long run. Participating in an online User Design
Experience program, with 10 hour Unit Projects due every Tuesday. Working interviews and articles for my freelance writing with the local newspaper. Balancing in those necessary breaks with friends and engaging in volunteer. Giving time to myself.
Amidst all these trials, you know what I do more than anything? Sleep…I sleep.
Everything is a clutter, is chaos. I am chaos. I am overwhelmed.
So I sleep. Because my body is a stone, as I lay in bed, with thoughts scattering and too many emotions pulling me apart, and I don’t know how to cope and don’t know who I am or what I want so–I–sleep. From exhaustion, from too much reflection, from whatever the fuck-it-is. I sleep I sleep I sleep.
I don’t give up. I don’t have to give up. Because I’ve already failed. Or, to better phrase it, I am failure. Failed or failing implies the choice to not fail. Failure is permanence, is no feeling, nothing. And that’s what sleep feels like. That’s not knowing what to do feels like.
I can motivate other people, but the sad thing is, I can’t motivate myself. I just know we all fall down. I’ve fallen (where’s my Life Alert?) aaaand…getting back up.
We allllll struggle. And we fall. And that’s where we get back up. From the ground. To fall again. To get back up. To fall. To get back up. To fall. And we learn, how we fall, what makes us fall, how we stay down, how we rise. If we rise. If we crawl, if only to get on our knees. How to make us rise, how to make the footing steadier, so we don’t fall, and if we do, again, how to land more softly. Again. And again. And again and again and again.
It’s not about falling or rising, it’s about choosing to rise.
Now time to eat some gluten-free cookies