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I made a choice,
yesterday. I've made many, many choices, many, many times before, some good, some bad, and others somewhere in between. Thats just how life works, doesn't it. The choices we make, the ones we don't, and even the ones that are made for us. Choices.
Choices in the before, after, now. Choices based on whys. Choices about the hows, the whos and the hwats.
For the first time, in a long time, I chose something different, I chose something better than the myriad choices I have been making that have me holding again in a downward spiraling hedonistic stall, for over six months this time, with no apparent end in sight.
I once had purpose, a direction, a bearing I was headed in, and then moving goalposts moved those goalposts until they were so far away that they faded into the horizon and the end was just nowhere in sight.
Cue the oft-repeated maladaptive mechanisms based in all-consuming, self-defeating hedonism that I have increasingly come to recognize as hallow attempts at self-soothing, temporary time-sinks a la Netflix and Chill of doomscroll or some haraam variatikn thereof that always leaves me with nothing more than shame, guilt, regret, all of which can be summed up as "absolute uselosity".
So, what was the choice? As trivial as it may seem, I chose to clean my room. Not that it was a pig stie to begin with, no, I had long since folded away my clothes but they sat in the clothes baskets for about a week or two, after having already sat there unfolded for a week or two.
Procrastination, at its finest, yet another sign of underlying anxiety manifesting as uselosity.
I finally decided to put them away. But that meant organizing my closet, which, while not entirely messy, was unmistakably disorganized.
Before I could put my clothes away, I had to reorganize my closet. This meant going through a couple boxes of old not-quite-important-right-in-this-moment stuff that my mom had boxed away for me to sort through while I had been away for a while.
I could just as easily have stashed them in one corner and put off sorting for another time, the same way I had been doing since over a year. except this time, I needed to deal with it, it was important, not because the contents mattered, but because it meant that confronting and dealing with the physicality of it all was a way to address the uselosity within.
I sorted the boxes, organized my closet, declutterd my work desk, swept and restructured my room, creating distinct little areas - work/study, sleep, pray/work-out.
I was pretty pleased with myself, for having done something positively different. It felt different. Tomorrow was going to be a different day.
20.204.02.12
© Laddies & Journeylmen
Choices in the before, after, now. Choices based on whys. Choices about the hows, the whos and the hwats.
For the first time, in a long time, I chose something different, I chose something better than the myriad choices I have been making that have me holding again in a downward spiraling hedonistic stall, for over six months this time, with no apparent end in sight.
I once had purpose, a direction, a bearing I was headed in, and then moving goalposts moved those goalposts until they were so far away that they faded into the horizon and the end was just nowhere in sight.
Cue the oft-repeated maladaptive mechanisms based in all-consuming, self-defeating hedonism that I have increasingly come to recognize as hallow attempts at self-soothing, temporary time-sinks a la Netflix and Chill of doomscroll or some haraam variatikn thereof that always leaves me with nothing more than shame, guilt, regret, all of which can be summed up as "absolute uselosity".
So, what was the choice? As trivial as it may seem, I chose to clean my room. Not that it was a pig stie to begin with, no, I had long since folded away my clothes but they sat in the clothes baskets for about a week or two, after having already sat there unfolded for a week or two.
Procrastination, at its finest, yet another sign of underlying anxiety manifesting as uselosity.
I finally decided to put them away. But that meant organizing my closet, which, while not entirely messy, was unmistakably disorganized.
Before I could put my clothes away, I had to reorganize my closet. This meant going through a couple boxes of old not-quite-important-right-in-this-moment stuff that my mom had boxed away for me to sort through while I had been away for a while.
I could just as easily have stashed them in one corner and put off sorting for another time, the same way I had been doing since over a year. except this time, I needed to deal with it, it was important, not because the contents mattered, but because it meant that confronting and dealing with the physicality of it all was a way to address the uselosity within.
I sorted the boxes, organized my closet, declutterd my work desk, swept and restructured my room, creating distinct little areas - work/study, sleep, pray/work-out.
I was pretty pleased with myself, for having done something positively different. It felt different. Tomorrow was going to be a different day.
20.204.02.12
© Laddies & Journeylmen
