Nothing Fits

Shit.  What should I do?

I feel uncomfortable.  With my life.  Like I’m in the wrong clothes.  Or like the temperature is too high or to low.

Yeah.  That’s it.  Because everything I do feels this way.  So uncomfortable.

I feel comfortable when I sleep.

And I feel like I’m complaining right now.  I’m not.  I just want to feel like I contribute.  To myself and to others in my life.  I don’t want to feel like a waste.  I don’t want to feel like I’m wasting myself.

But, if I feel like I am uncomfortable, I feel like I am wasting my time…and other people’s as well.  I try new things all the time.  They all feel the same way.

I’m avoiding using the phrase “supposed to” because I hate that word.  I don’t think there really is anything I’m “supposed to” do.  But I do feel like there are things that I could do that are more productive for me and for others that at the same time don’t leave me feeling empty.

I so want to find these things.  I think the discovery will come the more and more I let go of what others think of me and my life.  But then I’m left with just me.  And I still feel discomfort.  I still feel uninspired.

Perhaps I am assigning TOO MUCH meaning to everything.  That could be.  But, when I take the words away, the feeling still is there.  Indescribable.  A painful ennui.

New path–I’m just going to embrace the emptiness within me.  It is there.  I am not trying to fill it at all.  Maybe that is what is leaving me so uncomfortable–because I just keep trying to fill it and nothing fits in it perfectly.  Exactly nothing fits in it perfectly.  No more searching and filling.

Bringing in more of the yoga of life.  Bringing in those Taoist, Buddhist, Christian teachings that so often just sound pretty.

And more of this.  Writing my discoveries as they happen.  This fits.  If only for the 20 minutes that it takes.  And if no one ever EVER reads it.  The discoveries fit in the hole…or perhaps come out of it.

And now I sit in love.  With myself.  ANd my empty hole.


About heathencomehome

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