Paralysed by possibility
Writing my way through the urge to want more from everything.
Is there a cure for the yearning in my heart that wants more? More from this life, more creativity, more freedom and more love. I come home every day, take a moment, and more often than not I have a craving to…
I’m not sure what, honestly.
But it presents itself as being paralysed by so many thoughts that I sit on the sofa and think. Sometimes I write and you get to read the outcome, but often it even feels like the thoughts are moving too fast for my fingers to keep up. It feels like standing in the middle of a busy road with ideas rushing past in every direction, unsure which one to chase first.
For a fleeting moment, a snack will calm my mind, a catapult back to coming home from school as a kid and tracking down the most appealing-looking thing in an ingredient household. Most likely an inventive way to use chocolate chips. That brief comfort feels familiar and grounding, like a tiny ritual that reminds me that not everything has to be so complicated.
I can’t explain this urge to do more because I can’t make sense of it myself. It feels as though things are out of alignment and the things that I enjoy are the only bits holding it together. As if my life is a bunch of spring onions held together with an elastic band. Except the elastic is only just tight enough and at any moment all the onions could slip through and onto the floor, scattering in every direction.
Maybe it’s because I allow myself too much time to think. I feel as though I thrive on time alone and that’s what fills my batteries. But maybe it’s also a hindrance, the consistent time set aside to ponder and question. That might make for too much curiosity and not enough action. Perhaps we weren’t made to ruminate on our world as much as I do. Then, on the other hand, if I didn’t have this time I feel I would combust. Like all the thoughts would still spin around, but if I didn’t give them time to take up space in my brain they would just infiltrate anyway and make themselves known in louder ways.
[exhale]
There she goes again.
I think back to the times in my life where I can distinctly remember my heart feeling as though it was so full it could burst. They were the simplest of times but always involved amazing, loving people, conversations and so few stresses. Long evenings that stretched out without urgency and laughter that lingered long after the moment had passed. Perhaps that’s all that this yearning is, a need for a simpler, slower and more people-centric life. One that allows space and time for connection that isn’t scheduled a month in advance. Where success is measured by how much your cheeks hurt from smiling in a day and the most valued currency is how tightly you hug your people.
By writing, I sometimes manage to tickle the part of my brain that says my heart isn’t satisfied. When I am paralysed by thoughts, it feels the only option is to write. By doing that and giving the thoughts what they demand, undivided attention, a little piece of me feels slightly more at peace.
The reason I share these pieces is in the hope that they can do the same for at least one other person. Perhaps you also have a pull in your heart to do more but you can’t put your finger on it, and now you feel less alone. Or perhaps you had never contemplated that thought and now I sound like a mad woman. Either way, I hope you find peace for your brain and love for your heart, and a little more gentleness in the quiet moments in between.