Overcoming the allure of insobrieties, in many ways, taught me the discipline I needed to start pursuing what I love doing. When you’re stuck in misery, the natural inclination is to let that beast take its way with your emotions or physicality. However, when you look at that challenge to work even though you’re exhausted the same way you look at not drinking, it’s easy to just say: Alright, let’s suck it up and go!
My wireless mouse was acting up while drawing that picture.
Maybe the batteries are dying? It seemed to work better after I hit it a few times, took out the batteries, but that could be me just getting mad at it for something that’s not really its fault. I’m, instead, projecting my frustration over not feeling like writing now onto that poor little creature, whose only task is to help me along my way. I wouldn’t need it were it not for this laptop’s inadequate touchpad, so rather than solve that problem, I introduced another frustrative variable into the equation.
Now the ads are playing for too long.
But still, even through those trivialities and more substantiative issues of feeling nauseous, I still need to write. I have another writing assignment that I haven’t been able to write yet. It’s not procrastination. I had other higher priorities take up the majority of my day, the least of which was not giving up entirely because my stomach is simultaneously screaming out in hunger and cringing out in pain. My mind is too fatigued between that and a full day of packing for me to consider writing anything more public-facing, so instead, I’d prefer writing something in my sobriety decompression chamber.
There’s something useful to be had here, though.
When you work through minor malaises and keep up your commitments, you can start figuring out how much you love what you think you love. When I’m writing and all the gears are firing, it’s a magical feeling. Healing, really. I become a better person, more introspective, and can respond faster to events because I’ve properly digested everything that’s come before. Like a freshly formatted sense of reality, I can go out and learn more without having the baggage of past experiences that have yet to be analyzed or considered.
I won’t write anything professional tonight.
However, tomorrow I’ll dig in early and I’ll write what I need to write. It’ll be easy because I took a bunch of notes: all I need to do is start typing the thoughts into lists and the connective bits will flow together. Unlike essays like this, where it’s more a matter of exercising my mind’s connection to my fingertips, that sort of writing will be recalling key thoughts, embellishing them, and then augmenting them with perhaps citations to other sources.
Or, just type it all and call it a day.
When you’ve written hundreds of thousands of publishable words, the priority is overcoming the assignment, like sobriety’s goal of overcoming precariousness.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Just a late-night ramble, decompressing some thoughts about how I’ve begun to achieve more success, and how I can attribute most of that success to keeping up a discipline where I’ll write even if I feel exhausted. I’ll be going to bed soon.|
|Related: Other Sober Living and Moving Zeal essays, the latter of which relates because if you’ve gotta move house, you’ve gotta do it even when you’re nauseous. There’s writing inspiration here, too.|
|Picture: Random hex and squiggle monster.|
|Written On: January 15th [20 minutes]|
|Last Edited: First draft; final draft.|