To be fixed.
To get the fix.
To mend. To make do. To sort it out. To try a little bit harder, a little bit more, better, bigger.
What is it you are trying to mend?
Gaps in the psyche? What’s missing from the soul? What the bloody hell is that hole there for and what will it take to make it go away?
If someone says sorry? Or – I choose you? Or – I accept you? Or just I love. You. I love you. Is that it? What even does enough look like? How does it actually taste on the tongue? What if someone arrives tomorrow with everything you could ever need? Would it be enough to feed that dark dirty little corner of yours?
Don’t worry. I have several of those. Creepy corners. Cupboards under stairs. A basement in every room. So many places you should not go. It’s like a theme park of despair that no one even cares about. What makes your darkness so special? Look at that person over there, at least their shit is interesting!
So here we are, quietly hating ourselves into another week of incremental shifts that we hope will mean something different for us.
Well, I am taking a week off.
One week. No fixing.
For one week I am not going to try and make myself better. I am not going to play the improvement game. I am going to sink into shame like it’s a warm bath and sit in my own shit for a week and let it be. I am tried of all the trying. I am not a bloody cheerleader. I can’t even do the splits.
Of course at the back of mind there lies a little voice laughing through gritted teeth that the only reason I am laying down the ‘make me a better person’ parade is to – oh yeah – to try and make me somehow better. As Alan Watts once said – the reason why you want to be better is the reason why you’re not.