Just Call Me the Heavy Weight Champion
I'm feeling weighed down lately, but I know it will pass. (It will, right?)
I’ve been feeling a bit of a heavy weight lately. It’s like this irksome brand of melancholy that is causing me to sometimes get stuck in thinking about the past and then when I am jostled back to the present, feeling a bit lost.
Though I don’t love feeling this way, I do have faith that it’s temporary and that I’m just walking through something that I need to walk through to get to the other side of whatever this heaviness is. I also know I’m not alone in feeling this way—and that as we enter year three of this pandemic (Egad!), many of us are in the midst of an ongoing sense of disorientation.
That makes total sense, by the way.
And, finally, I guess I’ll insert my disclaimer here that I obviously have so much to be grateful for—and I am. That’s actually part of why this weight on me is particularly annoying. The weight seems to coexist with recognizing (and actually finding meaning and enjoyment in) so many wonderful things: my work, my personal relationships, and the journey to self-betterment.
It’s possible that what I’m going through right now is a repercussion of starting some inner-work that aims to align my behavior with my aspirations and values—especially regarding the way I show up for myself.
I told you recently that I began working with a budgeting app as part of an audit of where and how I spend my energy. Zooming out even further, I’m also doing a life audit of my values—which partly means I’m looking closely at those areas where I tend to be more unconscious (from how I spend to how I talk to myself) and doing my best to realign.
… so I’m not just buying the thing.
… so I’m not just sending that email.
… so I’m not just future-tripping.
And as a result, I’m removing some of my well-worn vices. I’m in the process of trading in some of my semi-impulsive behaviors for more conscious decision-making. But since I’m smack-dab in the middle of it, it means I am sitting in a whole lot of discomfort, with that aforementioned heaviness looming over me.
The thing is, I’d have it no other way.
The illusion of meaning
This process of removing my reliance on things/behaviors/people that don’t serve me reminds me a bit of decluttering—which, in full transparency, I’m pretty terrible at.
Like, I’m really bad at it.
I collect things for no reason. I don’t throw out old mementos. I keep cards and notes and letters. I hoard old shoes that I haven’t worn in a few years because maybe one day I will again (despite my middle-aged bunion, which I did not have when I bought those impractical heels).
And yet every single time I force myself to fill up a bag of old shoes or clothes or perfectly good canned food items, I feel a sense of relief at the space I’ve created—not to mention the people I helped to feed or clothe.
So why do I hold onto things like they’re a part of me, when they are just a piece of matter that collects dust and the illusion of meaning?
One-hundred percent of the time, when I’ve removed something from my life—be it old clothes or old flames—the space they used to take up gets filled again, but with something so much more meaningful, powerful, and aligned. This has even been true with jobs. It’s no secret that I say “yes” way too easily.
Sometimes I then feel stuck staying because I am hardly in a position to step away from pay. And yet, the times that for whatever reason I’ve walked away have always—and I mean always—resulted in a better opportunity that I wouldn’t have gotten, had I not gotten rid of it.
So long, old thing. Your work here is done. I don’t need you anymore.
Double, double toil and trouble
If you’re anything like me, you toil about how to let something go, and the toiling winds up being a billion times worse than the actual letting go itself.
So what is it you want to let go of?
… Your clothes that don’t fit?
… Your ex who keeps bringing you down?
… That friend who sucks out all the energy from the room?
… Your part-time job?
… Your roommate situation?
… The animal products in your fridge?
… Half of your books?
… Half of your automated subscriptions?
… Your scarcity mindset about money?
… The shitty way you talk to yourself?
… The so-called friend who talks to you in that shitty way?
… The shitty way you talk to your partner?
… Your long hair?
… Your long face?
… The illusion that you can control someone else?
… That dumb thing on your to-do list that you don’t want to do anyway?
Sometimes, letting go of something is as simple as throwing it out or donating it. But sometimes, when it’s not so tangible, we have to start to become impartial and detached from the emotion behind it.
Easy come, easy go. (Or so I hear.)
I’m not saying this will actually be easy all the time. Maybe you’ll wind up sitting with your own heavy weight, as I am lately. And I know I’m not really selling the concept here, but I do believe it can ultimately be a good thing to feel the initial pain of realignment.
I’d much prefer following my instinct to partake in behaviors I’d be better leaving behind, but the dopamine hit I get when I engage in that type of unconscious behavior is fleeting, and the underlying discomfort I feel as a result of it is, in the long run, is more damaging.
Life will get better, clearer, and more joyful.
I have faith in that. I do.
In the meantime, I will work on decluttering my closet and my mind so that when I no longer feel this weight, I will have space to move around.
xo,
jazz
P.S. I wrote an essay about what being queer means to me and it’s being featured in the latest issue of Queer Centric Magazine.