[9] Exceptions to My Own Advice

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That poem I wrote two days ago? Telling me to write before I read stuff?

Sometimes, that’s good.

This was not one of those times. After last night, I was going to quit again. Who do I think I am? Am I really overqualified for fast food/janitorial work/insert whatever here, or could I even physically do it? …Or do I think I’m above it? Or am I afraid I would get started and then be let go from ‘an easy job’? Would that be worse than being ‘let go’ from a job you’re actually qualified for? Because honestly, that sucked.

Needless to say, motivation was low today. I had to take a nap before noon, but wasn’t feeling much better upon waking. I opened Medium groggily, hoping the blue light might clear some of the cobwebs so I could actually accomplish something today.

Instead, I ended up following a trail of posts from writers I had never read before, but whose words seemed to be handed to me in just the right order.

The above, a reminder of that deep desire to speak my truth. To know the world’s eyes could see, but have the choice and timing to perhaps not.

And this, a jolt of reality. An awareness of time; to both slow down and not hold back.

How I wish I could give this to my 15-year-old self. These were the words she needed that no one had time to give. Yet, this remains just as relevant a few less than 10 years later. Perhaps that is why it moved me so; the many facets and versions of my self felt acknowledged all at once, a rare alignment I crave more of.

After feeling so reflective after the last piece, I found myself included in Jim’s wonder. Indeed, how many wonderful, beautiful, real individuals I’ve encountered. I marvel at the stories I’ve heard and witnessed in person, but have become equally grateful for those I see only through a screen.

But then a shift; I was included in this. I read all those words, every single one of them, and tried them on for size. I am historically a terrible receiver of compliments, but I steeled myself for these and allowed what I interpreted as the author’s intent to just sit for a moment. I’ve tried to express similar sentiments to others in the past, but it’s never felt genuine enough. I see that now I need to allow room for both.

And then the kick in the ass I totally needed to remember I still hadn’t written anything today.

And finally, some affirmation that others are doing what they set their hearts to, and the realization that I want to be the go-to person for “sleep(ing) with a disability/chronic illness/mental illness.”

Moral of the story? Rules, advice, and life are never without caveats. Recognize them, acknowledge them, learn from them (and others), and figure out how to know if you need one or not.