Wax on, wax off.
Self-improvement is a tricky beast.
Weirdly, it becomes more and less of an issue when you're the most well-balanced member of your particular pack. More, because it's harder to change--or even challenge yourself to change--when the people you know already think you're ahead of the game. And less because you've got a better place to start from.
I don't have much of an excuse to be unhappy. I'm not medicated, sleepless, or starving. I have work, friends, hobbies, a beautiful girlfriend with the smarts to match, and a future I'm greatly looking forward to. I enjoy my course, I get along with my housemates, I'm never so stressed that I lose control. I'm clever enough for my own purposes. Most of the time I even get along with my family.
All in all, I have it pretty golden.
But lately I'm constantly tense. Not in any way that really shows--I sleep fine, eat fine, socialize without tearing heads off--but even when I'm laughing it feels like I have a fist clenched just below my ribcage. It's subtle; I didn't even notice it until I shared a cigarette at work the other day (my first--and last--in months) and felt myself relax. For about twenty minutes, anyway, until the nicotine wore off. Then I started paying attention.
It's like being hungry. In fact, it feels almost exactly like starving. When I lived back with my mom, right at the height of her delusions when none of us ate well, I always felt like this. Tight, tense, scraped out on the inside. But then, like now, it was a background thing. Ignorable. Only brought to my attention when it stopped, because otherwise how would I cope?
Cut the drama out of that metaphor, and it totally fits.
So I started looking at my life. What sucks? What can I fix? What needs fixing? And I got the answer pretty fast: work, dogs, exercise.
I have energy to burn, a job I hate, and a canine piece missing. Fortunately, there are easy solutions. The only reason I've stuck out the job I'm doing for so long is because the pay was decent and the hours are flexible. But lately the pay sucks, and flexible hours aren't going to matter in two weeks when Uni's over for six months. (Six months! \o/) Tuesday I have a job interview lined up as a 'warehouse picker' -- lots of manual labour, steady hours, and decent pay, which neatly takes care of problems one and two. Plus, I have an excuse to wear steel-toe boots.
Monday, I'm calling a local animal shelter and volunteering. They need dog walkers, animal careers, and basic helper-outers. I have the time and the energy, and I definitely have the need. I might as well do a little good while I'm helping myself. Which takes care of problem three.
And that's about where my life is at.
*gets back to essays*
ETA: Nipple piercing is still doing great!
Son of ETA: Happy Easter!
Weirdly, it becomes more and less of an issue when you're the most well-balanced member of your particular pack. More, because it's harder to change--or even challenge yourself to change--when the people you know already think you're ahead of the game. And less because you've got a better place to start from.
I don't have much of an excuse to be unhappy. I'm not medicated, sleepless, or starving. I have work, friends, hobbies, a beautiful girlfriend with the smarts to match, and a future I'm greatly looking forward to. I enjoy my course, I get along with my housemates, I'm never so stressed that I lose control. I'm clever enough for my own purposes. Most of the time I even get along with my family.
All in all, I have it pretty golden.
But lately I'm constantly tense. Not in any way that really shows--I sleep fine, eat fine, socialize without tearing heads off--but even when I'm laughing it feels like I have a fist clenched just below my ribcage. It's subtle; I didn't even notice it until I shared a cigarette at work the other day (my first--and last--in months) and felt myself relax. For about twenty minutes, anyway, until the nicotine wore off. Then I started paying attention.
It's like being hungry. In fact, it feels almost exactly like starving. When I lived back with my mom, right at the height of her delusions when none of us ate well, I always felt like this. Tight, tense, scraped out on the inside. But then, like now, it was a background thing. Ignorable. Only brought to my attention when it stopped, because otherwise how would I cope?
Cut the drama out of that metaphor, and it totally fits.
So I started looking at my life. What sucks? What can I fix? What needs fixing? And I got the answer pretty fast: work, dogs, exercise.
I have energy to burn, a job I hate, and a canine piece missing. Fortunately, there are easy solutions. The only reason I've stuck out the job I'm doing for so long is because the pay was decent and the hours are flexible. But lately the pay sucks, and flexible hours aren't going to matter in two weeks when Uni's over for six months. (Six months! \o/) Tuesday I have a job interview lined up as a 'warehouse picker' -- lots of manual labour, steady hours, and decent pay, which neatly takes care of problems one and two. Plus, I have an excuse to wear steel-toe boots.
Monday, I'm calling a local animal shelter and volunteering. They need dog walkers, animal careers, and basic helper-outers. I have the time and the energy, and I definitely have the need. I might as well do a little good while I'm helping myself. Which takes care of problem three.
And that's about where my life is at.
*gets back to essays*
ETA: Nipple piercing is still doing great!
Son of ETA: Happy Easter!