I’m…not sure why I blog. I don’t particularly enjoy it. I’m not particularly good at it. I don’t have much to say. But it feels important for some reason, and so I try to keep it up.
I don’t know why I’m at the job I have now. It’s not fulfilling, challenging, leading to anything in particular or well paying. Each day is torturous and I can’t foresee an ending to the horror that is my work life.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever end up teaching yoga or have any particular skill at it. I want to, but doesn’t seem likely at this point in time.
I don’t know where I’ll be living in 5 years time. With no current action plan, maybe I’ll be in Vancouver still by default. Is never making the choice to move the same as making the choice to stay?
I don’t know how to organize my life better. There’s food on the counter, but none in the fridge. Clothes everywhere, but none of them are clean. Unpaid bills are stacked up on the bookshelf. Surely adulthood is more than this. I don’t even want to consider taxes.
But. I know, without doubt, that I am loved, unconditionally. That I have shoulders to lean on, and couches to sleep on. That there is something or someone looking out for me, setting a path that I haven’t seen the map to yet. That I will create something special one day. And that this never-ending effing hill, will crest one day, and I will look back and see all of the good, and look forward and see all of the adventures yet to come. I’m hoping that day is soon. Because this traveler is tired. So very tired.