Let’s forget for a moment that I’m not the healthiest person on the block. Instead, we can pretend that this endless tug-o-war game I’m playing with myself is simply because I’m an exceedingly lazy, selfish person.
Not wanting to do anything hasn’t always been linked to being physically ill. I was born with a few loose screws and faulty wiring. This likely happened in-utero while my Mother was dealing with the stress of an internship and being married to a guy who she thought was the bees-knees but turned out to being a raging asshole. We can’t forget my Dad is a direct descendent of Crazy. On his side, we have bipolar depression, schizophrenia, major depression, a propensity for substance abuse, and the list goes on and on. That’s only going back two generations. The family tree looks more like a bucket of nuts.
Add a year of bathing in agent orange to that, plus the abuse he put my mother through while she was cooking me in her oven, and I’m the end result.
Rather than writing a sad, sappy story about how I was taught to hate myself by the very person who was supposed to encourage me, I’ll get straight to the point. My desire to do nothing is part physical, but it’s mostly mental.
I’m too physically tired to deal with all that my illness requires of me as much as I’m just tired of dealing with it in general. This makes it extra difficult to find my big girl pants each day and do what I need to do. It’s sort of crucial at this juncture that I don’t flake out.
A quick shuffle to the left, and I’ll find myself in a hole in the ground. To the right, it’s nothing but an uphill climb. I can’t see the top of the hill from where I’m sitting. As far as I know, it doesn’t have a peak. I’ll have to keep climbing it for the rest of my life. Straight ahead is my bed. It looks very comfortable. I think I’ll live there. But wait, I can’t. I have to climb the hill if I don’t want to sleep in the dirt. I don’t have anything against dirt, per se, it’s just that dirt nap=death, and I’m not into that either.
I don’t want to climb and I don’t want to fall into the hole. Falling into the hole would be easy but it’s also permanent. While climbing the endless hill I have the option to sit down and rest, but I can’t rest for too long, or I’ll tumble backward and fall into the hole.
“Although you may not be able to avoid difficult situations, you can modify the extent to which you suffer by how you choose to respond to the situation.” ~His Holiness the Dalai Lama
That’s just the perspective I needed. I choose to respond with wine.