There’s so many things that I should be doing today but I just cannot get motivated at all. Once you’re stuck in a cycle like this, it’s extremly difficult to break out of it. But break out I must otherwise I will achieve nothing.
I know that I am fighting the fight of my life because all it will do is hold me back from the things that I want to do in my life. It’s the little things that all add up to make up a bigger whole … hitting the snooze button just a few too many times so that I can stay in the comfort and warmth of my bed; leaving home for work that little bit later. Then, before I know it, the day has gone without having accomplished anything of note and that gets me down even more.
It wasn’t always like this - I used to be so extroverted and fun to be around. Now, I hide myself away when I should be out enjoying myself because I get stupid ideas in my head that people are talking about me … people who don’t even know what I’m going through.
Maybe the reason why I constantly feel this way because maybe I don’t even know myself.
Still, as long as I can vent and rage and breathe and smile, fight on like a trooper even when I don’t feel like it, I’ll be OK.
When I was a boy my father told me
Men do not cry…
He said “Son a man worthy of his name
never tastes his own tears”
And true enough I have never seen him cry.
Not when I lay with a still heart
on a hospital bed.
Men do not cry…
I have tasted the last of my childish
Once upon a time, I like to think that
Giants walked upon our green land.
Heroes whose bold stories would tell
With boisterous rapture amongst stones of old.
Tankards of mead, raised in awe,
And yells of laughter and mirth and glee;
Songs which would become anthems of youth,
Carefree before the storm clouds approached.
Then torn apart by the bootstraps of guilt,
Snapped down by hell-hounds rabid with pleasure,
Our heroes of old grew grey and withered,
No longer giants, merely whispers in the dark.
Yet through their songs, their noise, their cries
In Valhalla, they will reign supreme.
Great warriors, those shadows remain,
Giants once more, in our rosy mind’s eye.
Motivation is a funny thing … you either have it or you don’t.
Personally, I find it difficult to get motivated. I’m self-employed as well, so that’s a pretty bad combination! My job isn’t boring, tedious, difficult or repetitive - but it’s damn hard to get up in the morning sometimes to pull on a clean shirt and head out into the big wide world.
It doesn’t help either that I suffer with depression.
Somedays, it’s not so bad … then there are other days when it get so bad that all I want to do is curl up in bed and forget that the world exists. Winston Churchill called it the ‘black dog’ and that’s probably the best description of depression that I’ve ever heard. It can lie dormant for so long and then suddenly explode in a violent upsurge or manic behaviour or incredibly suffocating lows.
I was first diagnosed about four years ago with depression and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. What a combination! I now not only felt like a freak, I felt like an incredibly disadvantaged freak. My job involves a lot of planning - where my stops are, how many houses to visit, all with the aim of keeping it as cost-effective as possible - and OCD is either a real help or a nasty hindrance when it comes to getting details right. Everything has to be just so … that’s a phrase I constantly hear reverberating around in my head.
Today was not an exception … there have been many plans rolling around in my head and the fact that I’m entering a cycle of depression is not really helping me. So I’m hoping that by airing things here, I can finally kick it. I’m looking to change my life for the better and I’m not going to let this illness hold me back.
So, how does this relate to motivation … ? It doesn’t really. I just haven’t been motivated at all today!
Being rich is living your life on your own terms- according to your possibilities, not your limitations.
—Paul McKenna, “I Can Make You Rich”
Do not pray for an easy life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one
I, in my time of need
Would sink or swim to help the land ashore
To cry with a little swamp
Upon your lustrous gaze; Nothing that would please me more.
You, in your time of suffering, desire to know
The depths of swelling suffocation in your imagination.
There would be no self-sweeter gaze,
No other form or image in glass.
We, in our time of love, did crave the gaze of low-lying clouds.
Swamped, the sun beat down upon golden hair.
Our visage painted black and blue, and tear-streaked
Down rose-chalked lips.
tumblrbot asked: WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?