Sick of it
I’m sick of feeling like this. Some days it seems I’m overwhelmed, overtaxed. The lightness that found me seems at these times to be a distant glimmer almost beyond the horizon, and the desire for that lightness to return just pushes it further away.
I’m sick of it; sick of it all seeming so important, sick of burdening my mind with supposed difficulty.
Why do I do this? Why do I weigh myself down? Of what benefit could this be? The only benefit I can find is this: to come to the point where I’m sick of it. For once this becomes self-evident, once I genuinely have had enough, the tools will surely avail themselves to me to find that place of release I knew so well not all that long ago.
In the past I would have blamed my situation – the external – but I refuse to fall for that diversion this time. I am living my dream and refuse to sabotage it again. This time I push through until there is nothing left to push. Every seeming obstacle, every seeming burden is but another gift, another image to dispel.
I am sick of the sabotage, sick of the attempts to self-destruct. No more, no more shall I get in the way. No more shall I interfere with the happy dream that awaits. Into the light! Don’t be afeared.