Day 109 of 365: what happened to day 108?

I challenged myself to take yesterday off from writing a blog entry (after consistent daily posts for 107 days straight). This decision brought some anxiety, which I leaned into.

Guess what?

No one cared. (I guess there’s no way to know if this is true. But, even if someone was looking forward to a post from me and had a sad upon realizing I didn’t write yesterday, their disappointment would have been short-lived and quickly forgotten… Because cat videos and other shit.)

No one’s day was any better or worse as a result of my not writing. Yesterday went exactly as it should have gone.

I can participate in life, or I can sit a round or two out. Either way, life continues happening. Babies are being made and born, people are fighting and making up or breaking up, spiritual awakenings are being sprinkled throughout the population, and Krispy Kreme is still making doughnuts.

The only people I directly impact based on how I live my life are those close to me. And even then, I only take up a small portion of their attention or concern. Every person is the lead role of their individual television show. I’m occasionally a supporting role for others, though I rarely stick around for more than a few seasons. (I tend to kill myself off while the show is still good. Yknow, stop while I’m ahead sort of thing. I’d much rather that than overstay my welcome.) More often than not, I’m an extra… And, if I wasn’t there, no one would notice.

I’m not sure if this saddens me or frees me. To realize that I am so tiny… and my problems and concerns are minuscule… and that the world turns with or without me.

Let’s explore both.

Why would the realization of how tiny I am sadden me? Because I want to feel important.

Why? Because I want to feel needed and useful.

Why? Because I want to do a good job being a human.

Why? Because that’s what I came here to do.

Is it? You came here to “be a good human”? Yea. That’s part of it.

What else is there? Probably to enjoy myself, I imagine. Explore whichever body and whatever little corner of the world I chose to inhabit.

Have you considered that one leads to the other? Yes. By me filling myself up and enjoying life, the rest of life flows into place, and I help others as a result. I logically understand that. I just don’t know how to “get out of” the funks when I’m in them.

Why do you need to get out? So I can be a happy, functioning member of society like everyone else.

You want to be like everyone else? Sometimes.

Why? So I feel less ostracized. I miss the feeling of tribe.

Why not create a tribe? I… Don’t know if I trust myself to do that.

Why not? Because I don’t feel like I have the mental stability to commit to something like that.

That sounds like an old story you’d benefit from releasing, doesn’t it? Yes, it does.


Why would the realization of how tiny I am free me? Because I pressure myself to be on my best behavior and do the right, moral, just things.

Based on whose standards? My own, I guess.

Learned from whom? A variety of people.

Aha. Don’t you see the issue? You’ve created an ideal in your head based on the collected imaginings of human beings. What if you connected with something higher than that? A higher power? I haven’t felt connected to a higher power in a while. I don’t know if I believe in it.

You don’t have to believe in it for it to exist. If you did believe in a higher power, and you did connect to that force, what set of rules might you be given for life? Have fun. Be kind. Allow adequate movement and rest. Explore. Learn. Enjoy.

Does any of that talk about being useful or important to others? No. It mostly seems like an individual journey sort of thing.

Is it possible that each human is a physical expression of this higher power? And that the goal itself is to live and laugh and love? It is possible, yes.

What would that look like to you? I have no idea.

That sounds like a starting point, doesn’t it? Redefine how life “should” be, and then take action steps toward that way of living. Okay. I don’t know why I feel so much resistance. Why I feel so heavy. Why I feel so sad.

Does the “why” make any difference? To me, yes. Understanding is very important.

What would happen if you set the tool of your mind aside and instead tuned in with your heart? I don’t know. I’ll try.


I don’t know if that accomplished anything. I feel like a towel that needed two dry cycles but was left alone after the first. I feel damp and cold and heavy. Things that are normally enjoyable have not been for a while.

But, rather than fight what is, I’m working to instead accept. Accept where I am. Accept that there is a bigger picture than what I’m consciously aware of from this limited dimension.

I guess that’s called faith. Really, though, it’s more desperation than anything.


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Some days, I paint. Other days, I write. And rap. And tell stories. And do comedy. And doodle. And [attempt to] bake. And, one week out of every month, I merge with my sofa and sob about mortality and things like the existence of air and how we can't live without it and how utterly claustrophobic that is to consider. I'm relatively particular. And this is a place for me to share ALL the quirks.

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