Unstable.
Note: I have ten minutes to write. I enjoy the process of writing, and with less personal time in my days than ever, it feels challenging to make this happen. I will allow myself five minutes to edit and refine my work. That totals fifteen minutes to express whatever comes to mind. The goal is for this to be more of a stream of consciousness than a fully composed or structured piece.
There are days when I realize that I can do things consistently for only a set period of time. Most of the journals I keep have long gaps between them, where life is still happening, and each day will be forgotten over time. I'm sure it says something about my aspiration to habit and good practices, while also highlighting a lack of prolonged focus. I'm unsure where this skill or pattern is useful, but it's hard not to consistently look for the next thing. My sight is usually set on what's within my grasp that I am confident to pursue.
As I'm writing this, I've completely run out of desire to write. The timer is still ticking down, and here I am, with no real motivation to keep going. It's like I've fallen back into the hole that I was climbing out of in the first daily post. My mind feels fickle. Honestly, I'm envious of those who seem to consistently be well and productive. I spend a lot of time proactively managing my mental health through numerous practices. Yet, it's still not good a lot of the time. Then I wonder if everyone else is better at acting than I am. Or do they just accept it and continue on with life? I don't know. All this writing and sharing could simply be an indicator or outlet of mental unhealth. Anyway, I doubt anyone is reading these posts because I'm not sharing them on social media, the photos are from over a year ago, and most of them aren't anything special. They are snapshots of daily life. And maybe that's ok, maybe a snapshot of daily life is what grounds us when we feel like we're floating away.
