day three hundred and twenty-seven - lousy excuse
Have you ever been in the position when you knew you had to do something, but didn’t quite know how to go about it? Perhaps it’s something you’ve been putting off for too long, something that you knew was important, but was painful, or arduous, or just harder than filling your time with innocuous things that merely delayed the inevitable?
That’s kind of the situation I find myself in. It’s the hardest thing, and I’ve found myself paralysed between procrastination and inaction.
For those very few playing at home, other than writing everyday (which was never really part of the plan), I have always worn a kilt. Even on days of quarantine, not leaving the house, even when all else seemed to be futile, it felt futile in a kilt.
I’d Maxwell Smart it, but regardless, whatever I came up with would be a lousy excuse… one I’m not legitimately trying to make, but here we are.
With the benefit of hindsight, this has been a most stupid of years to try to make a difference to something as important as mental health with something so silly as wearing a kilt.
I think that the past few months has brought clarity to how innocuous this idea has been. Mix that with the impact of so many larger forces around us, and it’s seemed useless to write; to journal what feels like a useless endeavour.
When I was walking and running each night for the Tour de Kilt, I felt a sense of purpose… as though just maybe, through putting myself through this physical torment, I’d be able to raise enough awareness and funds to make a difference - even a small difference… perhaps even for one human - and that was enough. I walked and posted consistently. Afterwards, I was physically spent. My feet were demolished, my muscles aching, my mind numb, and my resolve spent. The journal continued, but only in my head. When I felt I had enough energy to write, the relevance of the subject matter had passed, and so did my resolve.
Months have passed. I’ve been obsessing over different things, trying to saturate my waking moments with anything that would suffocate my self-doubt, anxieties, regrets...
Everyday I write in my head. Everyday, I’ve wished to post something, but nothing has seemed worthy. Everyday, I’ve felt worse for not doing so.
Bugger that. Everyday we get a choice. Today I choose to write. Not because it’s good. Not because it’s insightful or meaningful, but because I know that it’s a choice that will make me feel better when I wake, and when I look back in the future… and there’s the infinitesimally small chance that me not giving up may help someone who is thinking of giving up on themselves. That’s got to be worth it.
Kilt of the day - Campbell of Argyle (freshly laundered)
Soundtrack of the day - Don’t Stop Me Now - Queen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM&ab_channel=QueenOfficial
