Nothing More Than Myth

After a weekend of being under the weather, my body’s still recuperating. Despite how good I may feel at any given moment, my body often likes to remind of what kinda shape I’m really in. The energy to get around just isn’t there anymore. I mean people look at me and tell me how much better I look. But honestly, whatever weight loss or other things I’ve achieved, I get run down really easily. So I spend much of my day piddling about trying to fight off the boredom of getting older.

I don’t mean to sound so blasé or defeated. But I prefer not trying to fool myself with some inflated expectation of how I feel. I guess what surprises other people the most is that despite my best efforts to remain honest. I don’t drag myself down deeper into the abyss of depression through my honesty. I suppose more than anything it’s my practice of mindfulness and honest engagement with myself that helps. It probably also has a lot to do with my stubbornness and arrogance to win. Awareness of who I am and knowing my limitations, doesn’t hurt either.
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I mean I wish I knew a patented method of teaching y’all how I do this. But I’m sure my damaged ego and id would lock horns on what works best. So I just sit around writing my autobiographical gibberish hoping someone can pull some little bit of truth out of it. My focus isn’t so much on the nuances of life, as much as, simple surviving it. While I do keep a few pleasures close to my heart. Unfortunately most of my time is spent caring for others. But the fight seems to be getting harder to wage, because with each passing moment the spectre of fear and worry must be tamped down. If not, all I have ever fought for becomes nothing more than myth.