I can’t remember what it’s like to be still.
For so long I have lived my life in a constant state of motion. I don’t remember what it feels like to rest, to quiet my restless mind or take a break.
I am a train running down the tracks at break neck speed. I keep moving faster and faster, but I don’t know how to stop. If I don’t learn now, one day I am going to derail.
I know this life is unsustainable, but I am afraid to live it any other way.
What will happen if I stop?
Will the skill fall down? Will I stop breathing? What will become of everything I had made for myself so far?
I come up with excuses. I let the fear rule me.
I have become addicted to movement. To work. To the idea of betterment. To frugality. To budgeting. To reaching the goals that I set for myself.
I know how to work. I know how to push myself. Along the way I have forgotten how to live.
I am consumed by guilt and fear when I put the phone down. I am plagued with a restlessness when I finally power down my laptop for the day. There is so much to do. There is blogging and writing and tweeting and pinning and side hustles and budgeting and the list goes on and on and on.
I have neglected my family. I have neglected my relationships. I have neglected my dog. I have neglected many of the things that bring me happiness all in the pursuit of betterment. In pursuit of living my best life.
But is this really better?
What kind of life am I living when I hide behind the screen and consume everything and anything I can on self-improvement and goal setting and the kind of life I could live if I wasn’t lapping up the dregs of life offered by the stability of my 9-5? What kind of life am I living when I give up everything and anything that brings me joy in the pursuit of frugality and financial independence?
I love blogging. I love the blogging community, but sometimes it can feel like a monstrous black hole. It sucks everything in-my time, my energy, my devotion-at the expense of everything else. I love to write. I love to read. I love to create. I love the community.
But I hate the ever present desire to work, the obsession with making it, the obsession with views and numbers and net worth. I loathe the compulsion to connect. To always be available. To be better. To live my “best life.”
Why can’t my best life be the life I’m living right now? And tomorrow. And the life I’m living a year from now.
Because I’m living the best life that I can live right now, with the resources and time and energy I’ve been given.
Financial independence would be great.
Being my own boss would be fantastic.
Spending my days writing instead of chained to my office chair is a dream.
Embracing minimalism is wonderful.
But I can’t do it all.
I have to remember to live. I have to remember there is more to life than blogging and work and side hustles and financial independence and all the things we preach and swear by.
I have to remember that it’s okay to work on these things. It’s okay to be dedicated and have goals and desire more and better for myself, but that the rest of your life cannot be thrown aside in the pursuit of these things.
Or else what kind of life am I really living?