Pleasure
Sometimes I run the real risk of turning everything I find pleasurable into a job. Even something as fun and unnecessary as the reality of this little blog, my brain, unchecked, will turn it into this heavy, THING THAT MUST BE DONE that is a measure of my worth.
A tick in a box that lets me know that I’m allowed to like myself today.
I’m not sure if it’s my brain or society, my mental illness, or maybe it’s even just a part of being human, but what I do know is that I need to keep an eye on it otherwise every moment of joy and pleasure will be taken from me.
I’m sitting on my balcony as I write this, legs stretched out in front of me, my little toes slightly chilled by the sudden autumn crispness in the air. I have a coffee beside me and 3 years on, I still revel in the fact that I no longer have to work every Sunday. Church bells are ringing, the sun is shining and my heart is filled with contentment.
Yet just moments ago, my brain started down a predictable and oft travelled track that I know I’m not alone on.
My Slug, the voice in my head that is never satisfied, started some low-level screeching about how I haven’t written a blog this week and that I NEEDED to do it. That I’mRUNNING OUT of time!
That I haven’t ticked all the boxes yet, so I’d best get to ticking!
My morning went from Sunday glory to an obligation-filled day of ‘uuuuuh’ in a matter of seconds… BUT because I’m 12 years into recovery from an eating disorder/ mental illness that sabotaged every moment of joy and self worth from me, I caught this moment in the act and spent some time with it….
You see, we are very rarely ‘running out of time’ to do things. Sure, there’s the obvious mortal coil that we are all existing on, and there’s deadlines for submissions, but we’re never running out of time to enjoy ourselves.
To do something simply because we love doing it is on a timeless scale, it’s simply always there. Always available.
Always an option.
And that’s what I want more than anything: a life filled with chosen pleasure.
As soon as I caught myself believing that I was ‘running out of time’ and that I had a job to do on this job-less Sunday morning I stopped and I asked myself, “Ali, do you want to write as a job or do you want to write because it brings you pleasure?”.
And with that simple question I was able to breathe out all the tightness and anxiety surrounding this practice of mine and I sat down and began writing.
Not because I needed to do something in order to be worthy of today, but because I really just fkn love writing. I love having this blog, and I love examining my thoughts and sharing them in the hopes that through connection to myself I can grow my connection to others…
Anyway, the moral of the story?
If you have the choice between doing something for pleasure or doing it because it’s a job, I advocate for pleasure as much as possible, it’s way more fun.
