Seth Godin continually reads my mind. Today, I woke feeling the depression and anxiety pressing in closer and closer. I don’t mention this to my friends, don’t post about it on Facebook, and haven’t written about it publicly because it’s not useful for me. I don’t want a bunch of likes or stickers or eAdvice or virtual condolences. So why am I writing this post? Because Seth wrote this one about whose turn it is and it made me cry.
Sometimes, all I want is for someone to acknowledge that the continuing to do the work, whatever it is, is hard when it feels like it’s never my turn. I don’t want anyone to try and cheer me up, admonish me for thinking negatively, or tell me how great I am; I don’t need a cheerleader or a counselor or a conscience, or someone telling me “it’s not about turns,” or “think of all the things you have to be grateful about.”
Sometimes, I need to be sad and depressed and feel like my whole life hasn’t been my turn, or that I’ve let all my turns slip on by. There are days where nothing helps. The best I can do is use my brain as a tire iron, jack my body out of bed, and find somewhere to sit and pretend to write or fill out job applications, check job boards, or read my Twitter feed.
I woke up to my life so late, took so much time figuring out the most basic things about myself that I can’t help but think that maybe my window closed, and the best I can hope for is to watch through someone else’s. The desire to be significant, to matter, to be someone of consequence is overwhelming, and all I can think is that I haven’t done enough to create a turn for myself.
I’m not looking for comfort or reassurance or support, I’m writing to get this out of my mind so I can put my brain to work elsewhere. Seth is right. Regardless of how I feel, I can keep making choices as if it is my turn. The critical thing is to keep doing the work, creating art, being open and responsive, and the turn will make itself.
At least I’m not a bullet.