Originally posted at combatdavey.net
Last night I started a journal entry like this:
It’s been a while, I know, but I also don’t apologize. I’ve been writing. I’ve been doing things. I’ve been learning. I’ve been discovering. It hasn’t all been in journal entries, sure, but it’s been useful nonetheless.
But yeah, it’s been a while.
When I started journaling (again) earlier this year I thought it would be a daily thing, or at least that it could be a daily thing. Now I’m not so sure. Writing is the thing I do whether I want to or not and the thing and also the thing that almost always gets me to whatever truth I need to see (whether I want to see it or not), so the journaling and the consistency with which I had been doing so was exciting —— but also scary. Like, a lot of words came out very fast and very often. My consistency felt mechanical, so the truth I was potentially barrelling towards felt unavoidable. What if it was something I didn’t want to see or know? What if it was something I wasn’t equipped to deal with? As the words piled up so did the dread.
Do you ever feel this way? Do you ever feel like you are deathly afraid of being painted into a corner while also being the guy holding the brush? I know I’m ultimately in charge of my actions, or, rather, that I am much more likely to be in charge of them than not, but I really do think some of us have a gift for self-sabotage. It is so like me to understand something so completely it feels innate ("…the thing that almost always gets me to whatever truth I need to see whether I want to see it or not") while not being able to understand that I’m able to stop my momentum whenever I want for whatever reason I want with no pain or penalty.
TL;DR sometimes momentum creates cons as well as pros.
🌲 gonna
🌼 go
🌱 touch
🌳 grass
🌷 now
