What happens when your ultimate goal is also your worst nightmare? Every time I find myself with nothing to do, I become agitated, aggravated and depressed. Isn’t having nothing to do what I’m working towards every day?
Step 10: continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
It’s not that I don’t want to have anything to do. It’s that I don’t want to have anything to do, ever. Sitting alone on the back deck late at night, eyes closed and smooth breathing, I understand that this is what I want: total and quiet alone time, without future thoughts or past worries; relaxing into the moment and living only in the now. That’s what I want.
But when my mind’s not right, that’s not what I get. The knowledge that with sleep comes an end to my isolated free time somewhat spoils my mood. I don’t want to wake up to responsibilities such as feeding the dog, going to church and mowing the lawn. My disease wants to sit on the couch, which might be fine at first, but slowly becomes more and more unsatisfying, more and more unsettled, until it’s time to create drama. Yell at the cat. Run down your daughter. Disparage your wife. Anything to whip my brain into its preferred state of creamy unfairness. Now I have become transformed in my beliefs and can run away, justified.
Today: What am I really wishing for? And should I be wishing for anything at all?