The Charismatic Fisher King

I came home wearing nostalgia goggles, instead of comprehending closing one chapter and opening a new one

This is probably the third or fourth night I’ve had trouble sleeping this week. I don’t want to act like I don’t know why, because that would be a lie. One of the heaviest pieces of feedback I’ve ever heard came from therapist Mr. Jacobs. He believed we have the answers to all of our issues; we just say “I don’t know” to give ourselves an escape route from accepting accountability for those problems.

Recently, it feels like I’m in an endless descent, barely keeping my own stability together. I’m always just one or two steps ahead of my life burdens, whisking me into a dark abyss of abject poverty. Don’t get me wrong, I think Dallas holds a special place, but leaning into the spirit of this place is hard…when it feels like this city has taken more away than it’s given. ​It’s nothing new for my living room couch to constantly switch between creative playground and active battlefield for my internal dialogue. In recent days, seeds of fear and regret have been trying to creep in and take root within my brain. Granted, there are quite a few things that give me faith in knowing I’ll be okay.

[embed]If we’re goin back in time, we should have the right playlist 😎👌

With my ability to work my cards to create positive opportunities, nigga you would’ve thought I was Gambit from the X-Men. As I lean into this new chapter more and more, I’m looking at it less and less as me returning home. While the battle with regret is still present, it’s not as consistent or as heavy as it was in the beginning. No lie, I came to Dallas with 2018 nostalgic goggles on, instead of comprehending the growing pains that come with closing one chapter and opening a new one.

Instead of seeing returning as its own unique opportunity, I chose the low-barring fruit of trying to pick up where I left off…like resuming a video game that I’d stopped playing months ago. This place has long moved past me with a whole new learning curve, and I came thinking I remembered all the controls. I can’t fake the funk of feeling lost in a city I know nothing about anymore. All I’ve been doing is repeating what I did in Humboldt: hiding. But I’m tired, boss…

My editor, Shauna, gave me her best ADHD-brain advice: make your plan explicitly specific. Because you risk falling into a death loop of inactivity, your plan is too vague. Since I’ve been air-bending my gradual fall like Aang, I think it’s stooooopid to keep asking myself, “so now what?” So, here are two new questions:

1. As I regain stability, what are two things that I want to start?

2. What’s one thing I’ve been telling myself I can’t do, but I actually can do despite my circumstances?

In my last post, I spoke about changing the pace at which I play the game. As much as I want to answer my two questions, I’ll take my time and give myself grace. The invisible pressure to answer will always be there, but space to use a good strategy isn’t provided as often.

I accept all opinions, critical feedback, words of wisdom, encouragement, and even disagreeing view points. Send a message if you feel compelled (or not).