Tomorrow will be a much better day with regards to everything. Everything.
I’m using all my magical powers and willing it so. Believing it.
So, in that vein of true belief, I decided that despite it being late and not necessarily the most deeply comfortable thing I might do all day, I rode the bike. I told myself that I can believe in me for 10 earth minutes and that I’d just see how big a Katamari I could pedal up in that time. Amazingly enough, once I hit the 10 minute mark, I felt pretty decent and not really all that worked out. So, since I had the phone charger plugged in (I plugged the cord into the laptop and plugged the laptop into the wall and set it next to me to manage this), I figured I’d keep going. I’m no Forrest Gump, but I did get to 30 minutes on the bike which was what I needed to do to keep on track anyway for today. That surprises the hell out of me after all my wayward talk and the feeling like I was just wasting my time with this trying to straighten up bullshit.
99% of all of this is just in your head. It’s just the noises you make when you face change so that you don’t throw yourself off a cliff before you’ve had a chance to breed. It’s the natural evolutionary function of fear to respond to change so that it puts a space between you and all the danger in the world that you could go flinging into. But when you let it be a crutch, when it evolves well past its function of engaging your brain before engaging your flailing legs, when you can’t dig through the disproportionate cloud of anxiety to act on anything at all, that’s brutal.
And that’s a place where a lot of us are. A situation that’s just as scary to be in as any thrill-seeker who finds themselves having made a mistake. Almost, in some regards, I find it worse, because you can watch anxiety ebb and flow and coalesce and attack and draw back and punch you or just hold its fist right next to your cheek.
All of this is a message to me that what I’m doing right now is a lot of talk. A lot of kicking up the dust that makes this cloud start to gather and take shape. I’m courting the way out because I’m imagining people changing how they respond to me. Bright blonde hair, thick-rimmed glasses, funny little hipsterish buttons on a red coat. Arms not crossed or shoulders hunched. It’s a sliver less invisible than I’m used to and it makes me nervous.
You can change your life. Completely. That’s what Mr. Bates says. Though sometimes you have to be hard on yourself and after what he’s gone through I believe him. I’m a worthy girl. Worthy of the risk of living on my own terms. I want it to be otherwise, to forever live in the bitter alleys of other people’s ideas of beauty and self-reliance and romance, you can march around in your clouds back there and no one’s the wiser. It’s not though. I’m not nothing. I’m something and I inch towards something remarkable.