(day 5): a day of zero

I wrote nothing today.

Not one word in the manuscript.

I didn't even open it, in fact. Well, no, that's not correct. I did open the short story I had begun day before with much gusto and closed it within two seconds.

I'm still under the weather and still unable to sleep for longer than 3 hours at night, and that's messing up with my brain in countless ways, affecting not only my fiction writing but also my thinking and reading abilities.

I know I ought to cut myself some slack, but that has always been the hardest thing for me to do. To be OK with doing nothing.

Sometimes it's as if I want even my 'doing nothing'-ness to contribute to something in the long run, otherwise it feels like a waste. Rest must lead to greater productivity, otherwise rest is wasteful; that's the mindset I tend to operate on.

Author and very wise and insightful coach, Becca Syme, says that this is typical of those who have the Achiever strength high on their list. Mine is at #3. Apparently, telling Achievers to rest only stresses them out even more!

So although I came here to simply note that today was a day of zero words, of zilch, of nada, now I feel like writing about some life lessons I keep learning and forgetting over and over again, especially when things get tough, like they did for me yesterday and today.

1. Other people are simply irrelevant when it comes to our life's work.

I've often come up with many inventive excuses in the past as to why I need so-and-so person(s) in my life and how my life would be vastly different and much improved if only I had additional support from family and friends.

The truth is this: people in real life are much, much more complex and unpredictable than those we encounter in fiction.

Someone we trust to have our back can quite completely forget about us. Someone we have no expectations of might be the one to show up in a time of need.

For most of yesterday and today, I've been very disappointed and upset over the actions of a couple of people I thought were my 'friends'. I overheard plans they were making to get together, plans I was clearly not part of, and that perception of exclusion made me feel extremely inadequate and insecure, unworthy and unwelcome.

It took me an entire day to get over that and understand that what others do or don't do has nothing to do with me.

Sure, if I had been counting on them to do something, I'd have to change my plans when they fail to deliver. That would be simply another situation I can respond to in the moment without blaming myself or even the other for their actions.

Which brings me to the next point.

2. We do not have a choice in how others perceive us.

When I feel a little disappointed at something someone may have said or done, my thoughts very quickly turn to that of self-castigation.

I start to tell myself that if only I had more wealth or status or fame, then the other person wouldn't have dared to behave that way.

But then I forget that whenever I've gone down this path in the past, chasing after that shiny thing that I feel will make people around me respect me more or treat me better or include me in their clique, I've almost always found out that acquiring the particular thing I was after – wealth or award or recognition – did not really change anything.

It didn't change how I perceived myself nor did it change how others perceived me. And I end up back at square one, only this time with no zeal to keep after whatever goal I had earlier been working towards because I had been after it for all the wrong reasons in the first place.

It's been that way with writing for me.

I've got this subconscious belief that if only I can prove myself as a writer, either by selling millions of copies or having fans line up around the block to have me sign their copies of my books or living in a swanky mansion or driving a Tesla or having a Netflix show made of my books, then the world will look at me with adoring eyes.

I had already learnt how false this belief was after publishing my first book. Yet, I convinced myself that maybe it's my second book that will do the trick for me, or my fifth or my twentieth.

There's no end to this, is there?

So if we do not have a choice in how others perceive us, then seeking to influence public opinion of us in any way whatsoever is a very poor reason to chase a goal.

Which means I can only write because of how much joy it brings me, not because of how my story would possibly be received.

Of course, I do the best I can and hope that readers like or love my story, but as a voracious reader I know how thousands of seemingly irrelevant factors can affect whether or not I like the book I'm reading.

It could be anything from whether I had a fight with KrA that morning or whether I'm worried about an upcoming medical appointment for D.

How little is really in my control!

3. But we always have a choice in how we respond.

Very often, I react in anger and blame, rallying against a world that comes across as unfair when I assess and evaluate it against my personal parameters of justice and principles.

Life is unfair. There's no two ways about it.

My view of the world is based on too many factors to enumerate here but it is what helps me navigate the world the best I can. Similarly, everyone else has their own worldview, which helps them navigate their worlds the best they can.

What may appear wrong or treacherous to me may very well be fair game to someone else. I can't expect anyone – let me repeat that in big, bold letters, ANYONE – to do or not do things the way I would.

Sure, it is extremely frustrating when I find myself in situations where I have to make a choice between what's best for me and what's expected of me. It's always a tough call, and it's harder still to stand up for what I believe is best for me and respond accordingly, especially when I haven't had much practice in doing so.

In the past, I used to simply do what was expected of me. It has led to a lot of grief, but eventually I learnt my lesson and began to do what I believed was best for me. But that wasn't any less painful.

So instead of facing that tough situation, I got into a pattern of blaming the other person for putting myself in such a situation to begin with.

Why are people like this? Why would they do something like this? It's not fair. It's not right. Especially after all the things I've done for them, how could they treat me like this? It's not kind. It's not nice at all. At this rate, I can trust no one. How will D grow up to have friends then if things like these transpire?

That internal dialogue would go on and on, pitting me against the rest of the world, making me fear for myself and KrA and D and our futures, because what kind of a future we'd have if we didn't have anyone to count on?

But do you see, this in itself is another belief to question the veracity of?

Because

(a) people will come and people will go and we can't count on anyone to be around forever,

(b) help will come when I need it; it always has in the past, and I can trust that that will be the case in the future too, and

(c) I can count on myself to find a way out if I remain focused on the solution and not get entangled in the problem and in blaming the rest of the world.

4. So that's what we need to focus on: who we become as we move through our day, and how we show up in our daily encounters.

There literally is no other alternative.

Trying to influence or second-guess others or manipulate situations in our favour, or looking for someone or something on the outside to soothe our anxieties over our perceived inadequacy, or believing that we need to establish and prove ourselves in some way to curry favour with the rest of the world – all these are tried and tested methods for achieving insanity, not for living a life full of joy, peace and love.

I'm not new to what I've written so far. Every mystic, therapist, coach, counseller, anyone in the line of giving life advice, says pretty much the same thing in different ways.

What's amazing though is how quickly and completely this knowledge deserts me in moments of crisis or difficulty.

It can be really hard to make the choice to show up with courage and responsibility. But it feels so easy and oh, so so good, to engage in blame games and finger-pointing and angry outbursts and temper tantrums.

It is really difficult to lean into the as-isness of the situation, to accept that life will unfold in ways we don't expect it to, that people will do the very thing we wish they wouldn't. And that truth can be very, very difficult to accept.

On the contrary, it is very easy to indulge in blame and envy, and lament at the unfairness of it all, because then we can excuse ourselves from putting in the effort and time necessary to make a difference.

It is hard to accept that no matter what we do, life will always remain uncertain and unpredictable, and that we'd always feel groundless and helpless. And so it feels like an easy solution to display anger in an act of reclaiming control over what will clearly not be corralled and made to do our bidding.

I suspect that the reason for this is because what I've been practising for long is what I've become an expert at.

So if I want to make courageous and responsible choices more easily and naturally, then I simply need to practice doing that in every situation that shows up.

For instance, I've got to attend to some documentation work tomorrow and that looks like it will take up most of my day.

A conscious way to approach this would be to go through the prep work needed and keep everything in place tonight, so that we're not rushing out of the door in the morning.

Instead, for several weeks now, I had been completely avoiding looking at the checklist provided and had been dreading the upcoming appointment and the journey I have to undertake for that, filling my mind with all sorts of fears and apprehensions.

Today, because I have to keep that appointment tomorrow, I got down to looking at the details and it took me not even half an hour to make sure everything is in place and good to go.

Half an hour to actually do something I had been fretting about in my head for weeks without taking any constructive action !

I find that this is a lesson that keeps coming up over and over again in my life.

Fear keeps us from taking action, but the only way to counter fear is by taking that action in the first place.

I wonder why this is a lesson I forget so easily, no matter how many times I learn it.

Reckon my brain just needs more practice to absorb this insight until it becomes second-nature. After all, it's not an overnight job to counter a response that's been conditioned over millennia of evolution. I will certainly get better with practice!