Yesterday while I was running, on purpose, and not because I was being chased, I considered for the infinity-eth time why I never stick with any positive changes.
I’ve been trying to change myself for the better since I was a teenager, and yet here I am, leading a life nearly identical to the one I led when I was 22. Sure, I have a slightly cleaner apartment and marginally fewer hangovers, but the rest is the same.
The idea of becoming better is always so exhilarating, but as soon as I do the New Thing more than once, I’m over it. It almost instantly becomes an excruciating chore, and I can’t wrap my head around the future benefits. They’re just too… conceptual. Theoretical.
Which is weird, because I LIVE for the theoretical. Philosophy. Thought experiments. Alternate dimensions. Fantasy worlds. I don’t spend much time in reality, because the world in my head is far more interesting. You’d think it’d be incredibly easy for me to picture a future where my body is something other than a busted grocery bag full of cigarette butts and pork fat.
The thing is, I CAN picture that world. But instead of keeping me on track, it wrecks my motivation. I can see this alternate version of me, but I can’t connect that fantasy to whatever it is I’m currently doing to get there.
When I’m struggling to jog in 90-second bursts on even ground. When I can’t touch my toes without bending my knees. When I’m feeding my body like it’s a raccoon that lives behind a 7-11. How can I sit here and picture this marathon-running, yoga-doing, smoothie-drinking asshole, and pretend it could exist anywhere in my future?
(It probably doesn’t help that I categorize that person as an asshole in my internal monologue.)
Baby steps feel impossible to me. I’m all about big leaps.
Quit your job with nothing else lined up! Move to a new city with no friends and no money! End your stable, functional relationship and start attending orgies! GOTTA BREAK SOME EGGS TO MAKE AN OMELET, AM I RIGHT?!?!?!?1111
Except I don’t have an omelet recipe, so I’m just smashing eggs against the wall and expecting breakfast to appear in my mouth. Now I’m still hungry, out of eggs, and I have to clean up this wall, but at least it feels like I DID something!
Baby steps are boring. And monotonous. And so, so slow.
But spending years doing nothing, fermenting in mediocrity, and then tearing it all apart in an instant? Also boring. Also monotonous. Also so, so slow.
Maybe I’ve finally gone through the cycle enough times that it feels just as futile as Small Changes Over Time. Maybe the only reason I feel sudden motivation for moderate, sustainable improvement is because it’s something I haven’t tried before. I crave novelty, and moderation is novel to me.
I guess I’m finally bored with avoiding boredom, y’all, so it’s time to… GET REAL BORED…?
I’m not good at inspirational messages. BYE FOREVER.