No question whether or not the quiet blends hard into the wall. Silence and charisma have never been an ideal pair or most would assume.
There is a desire to know if the broadcast presence of ourselves is clear.
It’s a push and rush like no other.
Sometimes the important decision to make is to jump into the cold water. Let the nerves come alive in the most unpleasant of ways.
Reassuring everyone you’re here isn’t guaranteed, but at least you’ll know you’re alive and well.
Working on yourself is hard and feels unnecessary when a bit of temporary reprieve or comfort comes your way.
It’s hard to stay disciplined and focused, especially when things seem to suddenly turn back in your favor.
You can ride the high, but truth be told, you’ll find yourself crashing harder than before when you start to come down from the trip.
Suddenly you’re back at square one, as though you haven’t learned anything. Then you spiral further into believing you’re hopeless to finding the change in yourself you wanted to find.
Trusting the process is a lonely and frightening experience. There’s no sugarcoating it. You will unknowingly use every worst fear you have against you. Protecting yourself and restoring what you’ve established as normal will always be the main priority for these fears, unless of course you break them.
Breaking fear is a matter of accepting it. Ride out the fear. Not running from it. Let the sickness run its course.
There are no epiphanies or trumpets that blare when you finally do break them and start to feel that your best self is the majority of yourself. But quiet moments do occur when you realize how happy you are for no explainable reason. This is your new normal. Never take it for granted.
That’s when you know you’ve caught on to this whole idea of working on yourself. There aren’t any mind games and you no longer need validation from others.
There’s just you and it’s enough.
no more self
Waking up in the morning and clearing the slate has been the most real experience I’ve had in awhile. Meditating on nothing more than a white blank canvas while I let any other thoughts fade to ash has been hypnotic. I hate moving and starting the day. The loops of thoughts are waiting there, ready to drag me back down into my anxiety, my self-doubt, and my inadequacies. I’ve grown tired and weak allowing myself to feel unworthy, inexperienced, and naive. I wrap myself in shame and guilt for things I’ve done and things I’ve failed to do.
I’m tired of this version of myself. This “self” needs to die. I want to capture the imagination that I paint on this white canvas and run with it. I’m tired of allowing myself to believe that I’m not good enough. That the people I encounter on a daily basis also believe I’m not worthy.
The easiest deceptions in the world to see are the most trigger sensitive. I removed myself from social media because a constant reminder remained that everyone else is extremely content where they are – they know what makes them happy and they know how to move on. I can barely watch TV – another medium projecting a life you don’t have.
Even now, I ponder my guilt. So am I content to be alone in my apartment, quietly writing music and harmonies for the next several months? What about the life I’m missing? The bumps and bruises I’m supposed to get along the way? For some reason I develop the belief that I’m missing out on all the sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll that everyone waltzes right into. I’m nothing without it because everyone else is in it. Outside looking in again. The noise is otherworldly. It’s hard not to get ushered into what other people perceive as important.
People tend to be loud, boisterous, critical, and supposedly experienced. All this peacocking makes me feel like an innocent church boy again. Go home kid, the grown ups are doing blow and lamenting their existence. You just don’t get it because you’re not brave enough to get it.
When meditating, these thoughts dissipate. I feel good because this version of me is not present. The second I step out into the world, the innocent dreamer kid with not an inch of callous skin returns. I constantly ask ‘what if’ and dread over decisions I made months or even years ago. I want these thoughts to die. I want to be me with my white canvas. I don’t want to give a shit about other people’s opinions. I want to allow myself the ability to forgive myself, find my own happiness, and look forward. That’s the only experiences I want to aspire to.
by ty miller
living in anxious moments
I’m finally able to commit myself to being in a room full of people I don’t know. An insufferable element still remains about it, but I’m able to push through the tension of eyes peering down upon me. My mind forms the questions of others: Who is this? Do they know someone here? This is clearly a public event typically only attended by friends and family of the performers.
Sometimes I say the right thing, sometimes I don’t say anything at all. I find it better at times to blend in with nothing, allowing the harmony to remain among those who have gathered together with some common knowledge of each other. I can make an occasional acquaintance here and there, but I don’t allow the pressure to motivate me in any particular direction.
We live in an age where we can capture a still frame of casualness by getting lost in our phones. I’m not against this tactic, but I try to control it to a healthy extent. I want to live in anxious moments like these because you can only grow by allowing yourself the willpower to stand tall in disfavorable moments.
by ty miller