how am i, really?

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How am I really?

I am afraid. My fear is deep, all-encompassing, and desperate. I am in a rut, and today this rut seems endless. While I have moments of clarity, moments where I see the light at the end of the tunnel, these depths swallow me again. I am not depressed. I am truly happy. The life I’ve built around me is nearly perfect. I love where I live, who I live with, and the way I spend my days. But I want to change, to be better, to lean into the things that matter and the things that will better me. But all I do is sleep, fall into distractions, overthink everything. I overthink writing (I see it as a chore), I overthink exercise (I’ll start tomorrow, I guess. I overthink drawing (what if I start and it’s awful? What if I am out of good ideas?). I overthink thinking. The well feels dry, but I know it isn’t. I know the river is still running down in the dark somewhere, but I am afraid I won’t be able to stretch my arms deep enough to touch those flowing waters. I worry that I’ll lose the motivation to try.

How am I? Ungrateful, I guess. Because I love my life, I just wish I could be better at living it. I know I am not doing my best, but I also think I might be, and that my perception of “my best” is unrealistic. I want to be my best, but how am I supposed to know what that is?

I am afraid I’ll never know. I wish I could come to terms with that feeling - to love it and cherish it for the potential it holds instead of cursing it for its uncertainty. I resent my mindset, and then I fall in love with my thoughts. I resent my inability to move, but I adore finding stillness.

How am I really? I’m working. I am working on figuring out how to be well and how to be okay. Working on the work, and working on believing in myself. I am just…working on existing. And I think that’s okay.

A sigil, for working on myself:

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