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Still trying.

Things are slow sometimes; sometimes it's hard to see any changes at all. It's especially easy to overlook them when you doubt them regularly. But how much does worrying get you?

I like talking big changes. Sometimes I'll break them out and talk myself into thinking it's all terribly easy, then let myself down anyway with a monumental lack of motivation. I've had better luck with aiming for smaller changes.

Like, I've had "job look" in my to do list for an age and a half or so now, roughly meaning "look for/at job possibilities". Granted it can be pretty simple depending on interpretation--like, look on craigslist and see what there is that sounds reasonable. I've even done it a couple times and felt both bucked up and let down. Because even then, but especially in more broad implementation, there are other steps in "job look" that I have to get organized.

And that can be scary. But even in that, I can try marshalling it along, a step at a time. Like, I put on my to do list today "work on resume". There are some steps I could worry about there, too, but maybe I can break it down, and work on each of them at a time. I can try, at the least.

It's still tough--when I start getting down on myself over this stuff. Over everything, usually. Routine is a drag, a rude disguise for malaise. Maybe I'm still fighting too much. Maybe I need to aim more for balanced efforts and pragmatic attempts than dreaming of some grandiose bucking of my day to day. I feel like I already try to do that, though, and it doesn't feel like it's gotten me anywhere. Maybe it has; maybe it's my same old doubts creeping in.

You know, I look forward to the day I'll have mostly moved past these mopey, dragging emocrapsicle posts. To when I can post about the successes of my day, the interesting thoughts I want to share; to when I no longer only ever blog to angst & think out my dysthymia aloud. Case in point, eh?

But I do think, somewhere in me, that there's been change. I was looking over the 4th step inventory I've been working on for over a year, and I realized that although still perfectly flawed and fucked up, I'm a lot less drastically maladjusted and screwy. Like, my resentments are much less frothing and free-flowing than they were; I'm so much less anxious and so much less concerned about things beyond my control.

My main problem these days is doing the next right thing; I usually know or have some good idea what that often is but actually doing it, mustering the momentum to, overcoming the self-indulgent if momentary laziness...that usually escapes my abilities somehow. I mean, as I said, it's self-indulgence and laziness (and likely some amount of fear and worry lingering about) that's keeping me from doing what's right and from moving forward as I'd like to see myself doing.

Well, I might as well keep trying, one little, bitty thing at a time. At the least, the sum of many very small things usually completed is probably still greater than a scant few large things basically always unfinished. How's that for commitment? Ah well, it's a start.


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So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
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Part of me's pretty glad I didn't, frankly. (hah! get it? like Tim Curry.)