Learn to withstand the Hallway

Sometimes life feels boring and bland. I mean sure, I can sit here and tell you there’s always plenty to be grateful for and there are birds chirping and you should be feeling giddy at the fact that you’re conscious and alive and have opposable thumbs so you can open jars of delicious organic jelly.

But in real life, some days can feel underwhelming, or even dull and boring and lame.

These are hallway days, when you’ve left one room and are walking toward the next one. It’s the uneventful in-between space. I’ve had many hallway experiences where I’ve panicked into a tizzy, deciding that nothing good was ever bound to happen to me again.

I realize in hindsight that melting down into the middle of a hallway in no way helps me get closer to the next door. But, I’m a beautiful, sensitive human. Meltdowns happen.

There’s also the temptation to do something extreme to feel something-anything-aside from boredom or mediocrity. How I’ve handled hallway days in the past looked a little something like this:

  1. Planning full sleeve of tattoos
  2. Thinking of other countries to move to
  3. Wanting to cut or dye hair
  4. Finding something wrong with a person or situation just to give myself an entitled sense of annoyance
  5. Random Amazon sprees, which inevitably results in future Jen’s confusion as she receives multiple shipments of random stuff

EXHIBIT A:

Keep moving. The hallway won’t last. We must have hallways to make it to the next room or building. Just keep doing the next right thing. Do the things you know you love even when you don’t feel the love. Or just take care of little tasks right in front of you.

You’ll make it to the next checkpoint soon. But first, you gotta’ keep moving. One wobbly, whiny step at a time. And-hey-take this as an opportunity to rest your mind. Let the brain idle a bit. Cuz’ guess what? In the next unknown room? You’re gonna’ need it.

It’s all a part of the adventure. Even the barren desert parts of the road trip.

Just.

Keep.

Going.

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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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