It’s hard to sit with myself sometimes. I have a deep need to fill my time. If I’m not on my phone, I should be reading, writing, some sort of craft… something. Anything. I just can’t sit with these thoughts.
The thoughts aren’t necessarily bad. They aren’t the best either. Another problem is my brain won’t slow down enough for me to find some sort of meditative state.
I’ve tried it all. Meds, exercise, yoga… the list is long. I’ve tried those apps that promise to release stress or something to that extent. I’ve tried listening to music. I have head phones on right now and it isn’t helping. In fact, I was on my phone and decided I couldn’t waste my time on social media and decided to write this blog post.
My time must be filled. I feel a sense of regret if I don’t do something. I can’t waste an ounce of productivity. There are so many things to be done.
I’ve tried to set lists for myself. Small lists. Like doing three things a day lists. It’s a short lived concept. It goes great for a while and the fuse dies.
I’ve set small goals. Those work out great except that I want to reward myself with food or shopping. Neither of which is healthy. The temptation is extremely strong so I decide on not setting goals. The same goes with my lists. With each checkmark I feel I deserve an award. Blame my millenial heart.
I loathe this level of productivity neediness. Each moment filled with thoughts, ideas, and a deep desire to make use of what I feel I never have – time.
I wait for the day to end so I can take my meds and finally rest this brain.
It seems there is no real end to this type of suffering (yes I am being dramatic).
There’s probably someone out there who wishes they had my problem. Someone longing for the need to be productive. I feel this side of the road as well.
When I was depressed, productivity was the last thing on my list. It seemed like I didn’t have to be too depressed either. I just didn’t want to do anything and I was really happy with the decision. Now… now I can’t stop thinking about having to always do something.
I don’t feel manic, though. Usually I associate this type of behavior with manic behavior. Mania looks a little different for me. But the more I think about it, the more I type these words, I am starting to think this is a new level of mania.
I guess these are good questions for therapy. Until then, I am trying to settle this hyper brain. Soothe it into a restful bliss.
Someone come sooth my limbic system. I need it.
And to add to this – this came as an afterthought – the word acceptance.
I can not accept that I have done enough. I can’t let myself know it’s okay to relax. If only I could relax.