You guys. I’ve had an ACV shot (diluted with water of course) every morning since the beginning of the year. I’ve been sleeping no later than 10pm for the past 2 weeks (unless it was on purpose). I’ve been drinking more homemade matcha lattes and less coffee. I’m on a 13-day meditation streak. I’m rubbing essential oils on my feet. And I have been letting. Things. Go.
By the sounds of things, you would think that my hair would be shinier, my skin clearer and my pheromones on fleek. I’d have zero fucks to give, and be walking on sunshine. It’s all partly true (except for the clear skin), but what’s also true is it’s partly lonely. Partly frustrating. And partly depressing.
Because I am not bubble bath-ing and face masking my way to serenity – I’m fucking fighting for it, and it’s the toughest battle I’ve ever had to face. It’s the only battle I’ve have to do alone. Even in my darkest times, I’ve always had my friends to lean on, but this road to inner-peace involves letting my expectations and relationships with some of those very friends go. It’s a very humbling feeling to do this knowing that these friends could care less either way.
Usually, I triumph over my tragedies after the damage has already been done. After rubble has already hit the ground, the smoke has cleared, and the wounds have been bandaged up. All I did was survive these traumas, which is great. But lives weren’t meant to be merely survived – they were meant to thrive. So this time, I’m intentionally taking action to make sure nothing and no one disrupts the sanctity of my well-being again.
I still get mad. I still get anxiety, and I still wish a motherfucker would. However, I’m no longer letting those negative feelings engulf me. Just the other day a woman cut everyone off waiting for BART and nearly shoved me out the way. Instead of shoving her back, I left it alone. Then, I wished she’d sprain her ankle and couldn’t go into work for the rest of the week. Hey man, this serenity shit is hard and my chakras are petty AF.
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