It starts with the comfort of being between a soft comforter, and a mattress. The familiarity of softness, the security of rest.
Suddenly, the need to get up and accomplish things (something?) takes control and I need to get outside.
I walk to the kitchen, drink a cup of water, and head out to the garden. My mom is already potting plants, and I decide to join her. Something enjoyable about repotting a plant, and giving it the space to grow, and then seeing if your care has turned into success.
I repot the jasmine with her, and the feeling of the soil on my hands energizes me. The jasmine sits in its new pot, ready to grow.
I take a seat on the red Coleman chair we reserve for outings and our backyard, and take a deep breath. A new day. Another day to try to accomplish something. To get closer to my goals.
I used to be a really goal oriented person, but lately I’ve been straddling the line between none of this is worth it, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I think that it stems from a feeling of freedom, burnout perhaps, but it can’t be abnormal. I think that being a person of color, being a nonbinary person in tech, being young, 23, and emotionally drained from the pandemic and relationships, all contribute to feeling burnt out. It isn’t surprising to me how I feel. The trick is getting out of it.
Some things in the past that have helped me feel fulfilled were:
- making a podcast with my friend, The First Gen podcast.
- making a magazine with my friend, Confessions.
- spending time with my best friends.
- spending time with my family.
- traveling to new places and experiencing the world on my own.
- creating art. Clay, drawings.
Maybe after a year of pursuing these things, I can feel more in control of my life. Every day feels like an upward climb, and so I think it’s enough to say I’ll day by day to improve. Someone once said to me, it’s only important that you strive to be better than you were yesterday. There doesn’t need to be anything more than that.
And maybe that’s enough.