Physically moving, mentally stuck

Day 3 — Enter morning — I’ve now spent three days away from my normal habitat. A level of anxiety has hit me, I feel it gracing my skin, crawling up and down my body like a million tiny ants. Hunger hits me… Hunger for movement, hunger for action, action and reaction. At the moment I’m bound, bound to beds, sofas, things that physically feel comfortable, but mentally feels far more like a set of shackles, shackles that bind my mind from taking action and receiving reaction. I feel stuck.I feel lost. I feel… Comfortable? But not in a good way though. I’m no longer chronically tired in the physical scheme of things, but instead, I’ve now grown mentally tired of not moving anywhere, of not really being able to take action.
The funny thing is, I actually feel uncomfortable feeling comfortable. I feel much more comfortable being uncomfortable. It’s amazing how things can go from moving a 100 mph to then suddenly come to an absolute stop.
So what is it? Is it patience that I lack? I don’t believe so because patience follows action, so that is the thing I lack — action — and I’m not talking explosions and crazy car rides, I’m talking the act of doing. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love being away for holiday, but for some reason, it’s got me feeling a different way this year. I want to be constantly moving because moving makes my mind focus. Slowing down makes my mind scramble, racing with thoughts of what I could be doing, how I should be moving.
Currently, I’m away for a few days in Elsinore with my mother. And it’s great, and me feeling stuck doesn’t take away from the fact that I’m beyond grateful for even having a family that can take me away on holiday for a few days. But, that also doesn’t change the fact that I’ve changed. I used to sleep in every day of my holidays. I used to live for down time that the summer break brought. Some days I wouldn’t leave my bedroom before 11 am, 12 pm, 1 pm. I would slouch my way out, slouch my way to the kitchen, grab a bite to eat and slouch myself back into my bedroom to watch telly all day. I used to slouch my days away. I’ve slouched so many of my days away. Now, I rise. I rise early, rise to seize the day, rise with one single, overall goal for that day: to end up being further today than I was yesterday, even if only slightly.
Day 3 — Enter afternoon — I’m nearing my return to my normal habitat. A habitat of daily progress that is simultaneously a habitat of daily challenge. I love that f*cking challenge, I strive to face it because I know it will make me that every bit stronger, EVERY single time. I love my habitat of comfortable uncomfort. The habitat that is my jungle. The jungle that is my library. The library that is my place where I in my mind can swing freely, swiftly, from one vine to the other, constantly moving forward and exploring, constantly discovering a new challenge to face. The challenge that is my PASSION.
“I stand up next to a mountain and I chop it down with the edge of my hand.” — Jimi Hendrix.
All I strive to do is find a new mountain to chop down with the edge of my hand, every — single — day. — Marcus Kwame
