Lately, life has felt like being in a giant swimming pool and I’m not swimming or having much fun.
In fact, I’m drowning.
A fatal problem, but if I’m allowed the awareness that I’m drowning, I know that I’ve reached my edge.
Once I’ve come up against my edge, I know now is the time to pull myself out of the pool and not focus on any of the hypothetical situations my brain wants to hyper focus on.
And drowning can mean many a different things.
It means my anxiety is at an all-time high and no amount of meditation can fix my overactive mind.
It means this routine I’ve looped myself in – wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat is not satisfying and I crave variety. In my opinion, humans aren’t meant to be so rigid in routines day after day. Groundhog Day should only exist as a movie starring Bill Murray.
I can admit that I’m at my edge because I can feel a change is coming and my body is resisting and I don’t want to leave the illusion of the safety this swimming pool provides. So, I drown as a defense mechanism.
But there is no lifeguard on duty to pull me out. I have to be the one to save myself. I have to continue to choose me over and over again because no one else will.
Change and the acceptance of its arrival is hard. As much as we tell ourselves we crave change or newness, the comfort of keeping things the same is safe. It’s the shallow end of the pool where we can float and daydream about what life could look like. Safety is not diving off the 50-foot platform into the unknown with zero experience.
The unknown is never safe, but it’s intriguing. I can welcome the unknown, but I don’t push myself over the metaphorical edge to find out what lies beyond. I think it’s time to give myself a little push so that I can start imagining more and cultivate it into reality.
Or maybe it’s not that deep.
I’m sure my therapist will have fun with this one.