A common thought amongst most people – a sweeping statement but nethertheless I’d say true. We spend our lives striving for wealth, for greatness, to have a roaring career, be in the best shape, pushing ourselves to be the epitome of success. But what really does that mean?
I definitely feel I’ve spend my life, all 33 years of it thus far, trying to be better. The best version of myself – be it pushing my body beyonds its limits, micro controlling my diet, burning myself out through overwork to prove I’m worthy and capable, relentlessly cleaning my house like it’s a palatial show room and not a lived in home. But for who? For what purpose? And most importantly why?
Am I doing all of these things for myself? Am I really that satisfied? Will I ever be satisfied? Will I ever truly be happy and content? Am I enough for myself?
Through talking therapy this year we discussed expectations and pressures – mainly put on myself, by myself, from the idea of what I “should” be doing, and what defines being successful. Even though I realised comparison was the thief of joy, here I am 6+ months later still unable to change my habits and thought cycles.
But I know better. I know that if nothing changes then nothing changes. It’s something I hear myself profess to other people, so why is it so hard to practice what I preach?
Perhaps that’s the point though – it’s practice, and without commitment to the cause, I’ll always be in the same vicious, draining cycle.