Heavy

My friend has a theory that if something makes you feel “heavy” (as in sad, down, causing struggle, etc) that you should get it out of your life. I have read and heard about this lifestyle concept many, many times and agree with it for the most part. The thing is, yes, sometimes this situation makes me feel heavy but sometimes it also gives me more pleasure and makes me feel lighter than I ever have before.

Years ago I would write for hours and hours, trying to figure out what was wrong, what was making me sad or frustrated or numb. And when I determined what it was, I would end it. Relationships, jobs, family struggles, living situations, anything. I even did that with Gord a couple of times, perhaps out of habit. Did it make everything better? For a moment, perhaps. Sometimes not even that long.
So I look for other ways to manage. I eat healthy but don’t deny myself the things I love; I work hard and I take time for myself; I exercise and I get enough rest. I broke off my relationship, I moved into the house, I got a new car. And there are still days that I wish a meteor would drop out of the sky and land on my head.

I’m learning to push myself. I do my workout half assed but I do it. I go to work and force myself to smile and do my job but I do it. Then I come home at lunch time and get all this shit out of my head and get up and go back to work. I know tonight will be good. I can already feel the pulse between my legs that reminds me of the pleasures that await. 

I guess when you get right down to it, this situation is bothering me and I will push the bother away because I want the good stuff so damn bad. Is that wrong? Is it like the pot, where I would smoke it because I wanted it so much and let myself enjoy it because I knew it wouldn’t last forever? I knew it would be gone eventually and I would be fine without it so I took pleasure in it while I could and let the end come in due course.

I don’t want him to be gone, though. I want him to love me and want me and spend time with me. I can’t wait to be in his presence, even just to smell him. But maybe* he will be gone eventually and I know I will be fine without him. Even though I want him more than anything right now, maybe* I should just take pleasure in him while I can and let the end come in due course.

Except thinking about the end makes me cry.

What doesn’t make me cry on days like these, though, quite frankly? Get over yourself, me. Just let it happen. He said it this morning, sometimes you have to live the answer:

 

 *Perhaps the biggest struggle is in the “maybe”?

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