The real road is a dirty, bruising path. One that'll leave our eyes half-mast, with dogged legs, weary from tedious autopilot. An all-encompassing unease holding our bones as we face a future unplanned. This is always the way.
Life is about new beginnings. I'm in my thirties, so when I look back at even my 25-year-old self, I see this scrappy college goer, lost in the doldrums of two jobs, working six, then seven days a week for years. I see the piles of note and textbooks and anxiety of working 60 hour weeks while in school, watching my parents succumb to their health. I see the days of sleeping in my car. The fears. The codependence. The long stretches of autopilot. I see an artificial personality, poised to please. A world amid a new chapter after new chapter. A place with little control.
That's where I learned the refined art of going with the flow, that's where I learned how to swim. When the hard times pile up, our minds trick us into doing nothing. And that works for a while as we tread water, looking for stability, a rock, anything. Just remain afloat. It isn't until we start paddling that we see the control we have. This is how we become stronger. This is how we learn ourselves and foster empathy.
Song of the Day: Washed Out - "It All Feels Right"