Why do we choose to do the things that ultimately do not make us happy, and actively rebel against the things that do? I love writing. It feels like a luxury; the ability to sit and express my perspective on the world. The idea that sharing my experience could impact someone else and be of benefit to them just brings me alive inside! So why have I not written nearly a month?
I have plenty of reasons that I could use to justify my blogging hiatus of late – from being out of the country for 3 weekends in the last 5 weeks, to moving house from London to “the countryside” last week and being temporarily without broadband. But these are excuses.
I can feel the hesitation within myself. I feel the reticence. It’s as if I’m getting too close to something I genuinely care about and it scares me.
I’m good at grafting; I’m a hardworker. That is how I like to be known. Or at least it was. I’m starting to wonder whether that is actually something to boast about, or if it might in fact be a cry for help. I work very hard because that is what I think I am supposed to do. I work hard because that’s how you become successful, right? And being successful is what makes you happy, right? What if I’m wrong?
What if the purpose of life was actually to just enjoy it? What if all this ‘worker bee’ mentality is flawed? And, instead of mocking the ‘grasshopper who sings all summer’, we should be inspired and emulating their appreciation of joy in life? Happiness now, rather than potential happiness much later.
What if success could actually be easy? And didn’t require months and years of hard graft? What if success was enjoying what you actually do? This feels like a very difficult concept for my brain to comprehend. And so I struggle to write. Because I find it easier to handle the struggle, than I do to allow myself to enjoy the ease of writing.