I'm very restless inside my skin, in my bones, my brain. Thoughts fly in and inhabit my body, masking as inspiration and clever ideas while they needle and agitate me. I don't entirely know where I am, who I'm supposed to be, what I should be doing. I often hear someone else's wishes and wish they would be mine too. "Is that what I really want too," I wonder. "Is that someone I can be?" The dreams others are making real become what I see at night, masquereding as my own dreams while I sleep.
For as long as I can remember, I have felt lost, unsure, unknowing. Forever I have felt like a seeker, trying to determine where it is I belong & what it is I'm meant to be doing. Right now I feel like an animation I once saw although I can't remember where or when. It was of a figure pushing and straining beneath a rubber encasement, fighting to penetrate its way out. That is me right now--fidgety, uncomfortable and restless. I want out, I want to be free, but the rubber barrier is not giving way yet. It is as if with every push against my confinement, I am grasping for "the thing" that will set me free. "There she goes again," I imagine them saying, "trying her hand at yet one more thing (that she'll surely give up on)." But I am desperately trying to find my thing--that thing where I will I feel that I am where I'm truly meant to be, doing my soul's work, being the best me.
But I am tired of straining, pushing, grasping. I'm frustrated at myself & my life & my failed attempts of hide & seek. When is giving up, giving up & when is it surrendering to what is? They say surrender is the surest way to contentment. Perhaps I need to stop trying so damn hard to find myself, my calling, my thing. And just do life--so that the reaching & the trying no longer feel like struggling, but simply experiencing.