Write Less, Eat Subway, and Slay Guilt Monsters

Yesterday was the third day in a row I didn’t write a single word.

Instead of slamming my fingertips atop my keyboard, I played video games with my brother until sunrise, watched reality television, swiped (primarily left) on Tinder and Bumble, ate take-out, and aged the spings of my bed from laying on it for twenty-two hours a day (gave my bed a breather while I went to the bathroom and chatted my roommates).

Sounds like fun, right?

It was anything but.

Guilt monsters disguised as thoughts froze my consciousness with fear.

I played video games with fake laughs and fake smiles.

I had to rewind the show because my eyes were on the television, but my mind was elsewhere.

I devoured the food because each bite was like a shot of whiskey for the monsters.

I feel my best when I’m doing something. Writing. Working out. Reading.

I feel my worst when I’m doing nothing. Relaxing. Surrounded by friends and family. Playing video games with one of my favorite people in the world. Eating sandwiches and burritos. And watching people as difunctional as me on television fight, argue, break-up and make-up.

I’ve spent twenty-nine years on this planet (short or long amount of time?). I don’t know a lot, but there is one thing I know, not being fully engulfed with pleasure by the taste of sandwiches and burritos isn’t normal.

And another thing I know, attaching your worth to your actions isn’t healthy.

When we tether value and action, we can’t have one without the other.

In other words, we can’t feel whole unless we’re writing, working out, reading, or (enter verb).

Writing lay the guilt monster to rest (even a fictional beast needs a break), freeing my inner child. But nobody’s perfect. And life tends to slash your tires when the ride feels most certain.

A day off, Christmas, and vacation to most are reviving and joyous. But the guilt monster’s alarm rings when you’re not taking a step towards a goal or idealized self-image.

You’d think a big hairy beast or behemoth of a man dressed in metal armor equipped with a double-sided sword (your monster may look different than mine) would motivate you to sit your butt in a chair and bruise keys with the tips of your fingers.

But ironically, it does the opposite. A common reaction to fear is to overthink and freeze.

No monster needs to yell at me to eat Subway, shoot a basketball at 7 am, watch strangers meet their person, or play video games with my little brother, with who I shared a room for the first seventeen years of my life.

No monster needed to threaten me to write today because I do what I love for love and from love.

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