Concrete bottom

This is what my sloth, procrastination & fear has gotten me so far. These are photos of stupidity, laziness and a lack of motivation, aggravated by taking the easy way out instead of coping with my anxiety and confronting my fears.

Let me rewind to preface this plot...

In July of 2011, I again, quit my safe yet dull corporate cubical job. I had dreams of living life where I felt alive and free from repeating mundane tasks as part of an overall mind numbing routine. Hadn't I just been existing? I know why I went through life that way it was because it felt safe through familiarity.

Now, this wasn't my first attempt at thumbing my nose at such a half life existence. The "day in and day out" of work, commute, television, rinse and repeat is something I've embraced as well as despised much of my adult life (like many people I'm sure). I embrace this lifestyle at times in all honesty because it is comfortable. Henceforth, I then dodge my fear and convince myself to blame external fources for my discontented lifestyle. Beer & TV! These will be the only friends I need! So I tell myself. I will tolerate my job and my life and if that's not good enough I can always complain about them.

Ah, but wait. There is a downside. Much as I do complain I don't like complaining. I get tired of hearing it from others and I get tired of hearing it from myself. Also, as much as I love to be lazy, sit and drink beer then let the noise of television drown out any thought, I simply get bored and lonely. TV and beer are dull friends when they're over every day.

I seem to be stuck in the same pattern. My boredom turns into discontent, which transforms into misery and that leads to disconnect. I must disconnect because I am simply not content to be miserable.

Once my pattern reaches disconnect I begin to look for my passion. I discovered travel in 2004. I have always had a wanderlust. I have done some traveling previously. As well, I have transplanted my life to more than a couple different cities. However, when I backpacked around Europe in '04 it was the beginning of something for me. It was the first time I had faced so many fears at once. It was one of the most alive periods of time in my life. What happened? Well, the old comforts came a calling. The trip ended and I went back to work and the routine I knew. Before long, misery returned. Then in 2006 I decided it was time to try to combine comfort with adventure. I set off to teach English abroad. I headed for China. However, I soon found myself back home with my tail between my legs. The details of that story are quite a story in themselves but the result was fear and anxiety won that round.

Beaten and feeling embarrassed I once again ran back to the familiar. I got another cube job and returned to routine. However, I really didn't want to let one defeat leave me utterly beaten.

In 2011 the current chapter in the misery of my settled existence came to an end. Or so I thought. At least it was my intent to see more of the world again and eventually figure out a new way of life.

First, It was a long road back through more complacency, slacking, procrastination and more importantly underneath was fear and anxiety. I somehow made I though. I've left the routine once again.

Now then, what has any of this got to do with the photos of me looking mangled? Well, the answer is simple. I am scared. I don't know what the future holds. Rather then letting that fear be my driving force I have chosen to let it push me around. I cut a recent trip to New England short in part because of fear and I let fear cause me to postpone a trip to Asia indefinitely. Instead of living a little and choosing to embrace the unexpected, I have spent a great deal of time sitting on the couch with my old friends beer and TV. The other night beer introduced me to Vodka. I had my fill of both of them. So much so I simply lost my balance and fell of the front porch. I banged and scraped myself up on the concrete pretty good. Attached, are the pictures to prove it.

So, what is my point? I'm not a drunk. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I don't feel down on myself at all. The point of this story is how much I recognize about myself. I get scared. I get hurt. I loose often. What I feel great about though is I have not yet excepted defeat. My resilience is actually improving! I hit concrete bottom the other night but I got up and lived to tell about it. I guess that means its time for me to start actually living. Wish me luck please. Fear and anxiety are waiting to challenge me!