Mind = Full

Wrestling with my mind….in pursuit of the big questions

Mind = Full

I am wrestling with my mind. 

I wake up to unstructured days and empty hours 

I cringe at the thought of wasting them away 

I am torn between taking action and letting things be 

Grappling with the feeling that everything is too much yet nothing is ever enough

“The world is my oyster” 

But I am stuck inside my shell

I’ve created a sanctuary of rigidity and made a mess of it 

I am lost in a sea of certainty 

Unable to find direction within a map of my own desires 

I have the code but can’t seem to crack it

Connecting in a way that perpetuates loneliness

Isolating in a way that unifies thought

Trapped in my own expanse 

I am wrestling with my mind

And rooting for myself 

……

I wrote this poem in a matter of minutes. Under the covers at 4:00am in the bedroom of my Washington DC apartment. Writing this was a cathartic experience, and the best way I’ve been able to describe my state of mind as of late. I’ve been reeling from a recent job loss in a city where one’s occupation is synonymous with your identity and self-worth.

The thing is I’ve always hated this about DC. I moved here three years ago to get my Masters degree. While in school I worked in restaurants and taught yoga, a very non-traditional career path compared to the plethora of government and non-profit employees. Since moving here I’ve been to countless parties and social gatherings where I’m introduced to new people and immediately confronted with the “So where do you work?” question. I would cringe as I resigned to my scripted answer of “I teach yoga and wait tables”, watching their faces turn from an expression of curiosity to a bored dismissal before quickly adding “….but I’m getting my Masters!”. This last addition was enough to keep me in the realm of social approval. A way of convincing them (and myself) that I despite what they might think about my work, I actually am an ambitious and successful person.

After graduating with my Masters, no longer able to rely on the “working odd jobs while I’m in school” identity, I would tell people that I was tirelessly job searching and networking- a practice that is ingrained into the culture of DC. This statement usually solicited understanding and sympathetic nods (some more pitying than others). When I finally did land a 9-5“big-girl” job at a local public University I felt like I had made it. I could finally answer with my fancy title and organization, transitioning from the fringe to the mainstream. It was easy to hide behind this identity and ignore the creeping sensation that while this job may have earned the stamp of social approval and looked like the “right thing” on paper, it really wasn’t right for me.

It wasn’t until I lost that job that I had to grapple with the big questions: Why do I identify so strongly with work? Why do I equate the amount/extent to which I work with my worth? What am I trying to prove to others? Why? Who am I outside of my career? How do I want to live moving forward? What matters most?

These questions (along with plenty of “what the fuck?”) have all been swirling back and forth in my mind, hence the 4:00am can’t-sleep-must-write-out-my-thoughts dramatic poem of desperation.

I still don’t have any answers. I don’t know if I ever will. But I am eager to let my curious pursuit of these questions forge a new path ahead. This Substack is the first step, a transition from mind spiraling stuck-ness, to creation and forward momentum. I’m ready to get into it…