The lack of motivation is palpable. Getting down on myself comes so easily. Far more easily than believing positives. I feel that there is so much more I could be doing, should be doing, but I don’t do it. Suck it up. Right?
I do so much already, though. So maybe I should cut myself some slack. But I look at my unfinished school work and at my imperfect body. I should open my books. I should put in an exercise video. Will any of it ever be finished?
I try so hard to be happy with what I have already. I have a lot. I have some great friends. I have an amazing life partner. I have a roof over my head. I have a bachelor’s degree and I am working on a master’s. I have health, mostly. I have great sex all the time. I have a good car. I have a nice wardrobe. I have. But I want. I want smaller pants and better hair. I want perfect skin and hairless legs. I want a burgeoning career. I want universal health care and a promising future for the nation I can’t ever seem to leave. I worry all the time.
Sometimes I think I’ve changed so much, grown so much, learned so much. Then, like now, I think the only thing that has changed is the subject matter of my complaints and worries.
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