The work.
As in, “doing the work.”
I guess it means different things to different people. But for me, it means I’m at a certain age where I realize if I don’t “do the work,” the remainder of what time I have on this rock won’t be much fun (for me or anyone else.) It’s a time to look at my habits — good and bad — and make positive changes. While I’m still in a very busy part of my life (and career), I am taking a longer view of things.
Doing the work is exhausting. But it is necessary.
Past trauma, and if you are breathing you probably have something you need to deal with, manifests itself in the body. You can spent the rest of your life battling effects of that stored trauma. Or you can figure out ways to deal with it. That’s the part of life where I am.
Self medication is like patching a tire with bubblegum. It’s sweet at first but the blowout at the end can (and most likely will) be catastrophic.
A couple of things while doing the work. Don’t compare your work to anyone else’s work. Figure out what you need to do and then do it. One thing we all should have learned from Facebook is that you can’t compare your life to others’ lives — one because what you see might not be reality. I know, shocking! It’s better to find someone like a therapist or a pastor to help you set up healthy guideposts. And once you do, get busy.
Doing the work, by definition, is work. It’s hard. It’s annoying, painful and exhausting. It is easier to procrastinate, worry, surf social media, drink, shop — chase dopamine from rewards — than it is to knuckle down and face your demons.
Choose the hard path. Tack into the wind. Piss yourself off. And find joy in the process.
Live.
Do the work.