Lessons On... Reluctance

This past week has flown past me quite unceremoniously. I fear that I’ve molded to the furniture here, and am losing sight of my intentions. 

I’ve heard my whole life that I’m “too hard on myself”, but can now acknowledge that it doesn’t come alongside any promised progress. It's up to me to make my life something I enjoy living, and no one else. 

But I suppose all of this comes with the existentialism of early adulthood. Suddenly, and without looking, I fell face-first into my responsibilities in life, and now I have the fun task of balancing the embarrassment against maintaining enough focus to actually move forward. 

Hiding from oneself is a wasteful behavior. Days of good health, good weather, and relative social ease are being spent holed-up in a mental prison of my own making… and for what reason? To appease my comfort zone? To keep some naive sense of control?

Really, what this all comes down to, is that I’ve been greatly disappointed in myself and my ability to save money and move out on my own. This has been my goal for the last year of living back at home with my parents, and I’ve made little to no improvement or progress on that front. I have no savings, and quite frankly at this exact moment, negative funds. It feels so disheartening to look back on a year of hard work and feel nothing but remorse. 

So, what’s been holding me back? I could complain about a job that doesn’t pay enough, but it would come back to me for not finding a better one. I could bitch about the economy, but that won’t bring down gas prices. I feel… powerless. But that’s a distortion, I know this at heart. So what’s been actually holding me back?

The freedom of choice is a privilege that, given I was born in any other time period in history, I would not have. Whether it be my race, my gender, or my sexuality, I live in a time of immeasurable wealth in terms of viable prospects. I believe that this overwhelm of choice is what has paralyzed me. 

I’ll spend a week hunched over my sewing projects, certain that I could convince myself to open a store that would make me enough regular income to fund my acting projects. By the end of that week, however, I’ve sold nothing, and feel completely gutted. It’s on me for not pushing it further, but I tremble at that idea. 

What if I put my all into this and get nothing in return?

What if it does go well, and I can’t handle the pressure?

What if no one likes it, and I just get embarrassed?

All hypothetical, all speaking to my fear to step forward. The change, whether good or bad, stares me down with fiery eyes, and I’ve had a tendency lately to cower. 

I think of my relationship (the one best risk I’m still reaping the rewards of). I wonder if I had hesitated like this when asking my partner to be with me, if I had asked myself these questions, would I still have gone through with asking? Knowing the likelihood of getting into my own head about things, I imagine I wouldn’t have. 

Yet in that moment, I was driven by my infatuation and instinct. I trusted my gut, and as a result, moved forward in my life. I believe that's what has been missing from my career and housing pursuits – the instinct. 

I need to become hopelessly in love with my own life, and act on that instinct. I need to slash my hesitation, and rip off more metaphorical band-aids. 

I want to apply to a job just because I want it, not wrought with worry over whether I’ll get it. I want to move out on my own without knowing exactly what will happen, and still actually do it. 

I can’t control the future, but I can control the choices I make right now.. And right now I need to get a lot more comfortable making them.

-Andie