If you’ve paid any attention to the
crap content I share online, you will notice that my website looks a whole lot simpler. F*ck visuals (I have Instagram for that) and everything else.
Back to basics, my friends.
- I know that simpler is usually better.
- I miss the good old days of simple blogging with less whistles and B-school marketing and such.
- All I want to do right now is to write.
Okay, I lie (I figured that I am such a liar and I do a lot of lying to myself which I hope by going back to basics I will do less of.)
I also want:
- uninterrupted sleep for at least 8-hours.
- a weekend without anyone needing me to do something.
- and lots of amazing slow sex.
Which are all near impossible if you have a 6-month old human to tend to. I know some people have done it but I haven’t the slightest clue how to make that happen. The most I hope for these days is a decent shower, a straight 4-hour shut-eye and then some. And sexting. Or a quickie will do too.
Because these my friends, are the basics to a tolerable life.
A good-enough life worth waking up for, so you can keep moving forward towards the next better thing. And then the next better thing. And you keep going until you have capacity to go beyond the basics.
Like raising chickens to eat for your next meal so you know they are truly living cage-free lives, going waste-free so you can single-handedly save the earth from self-combustion, unschooling your kids so they can self-actualize and do amazing shit instead of wasting away in school, and of course quit the 9-5 grind to build your own fucking empire online because who doesn’t earn 6-figure income these days on the internet?
It’s ironic sometimes that in our attempts to live out simplicity and/or save the world, we sacrifice our sanity and ourselves.
It took birthing another human being and having my vagina torn wide again for me to figure out and accept some hard-to-digest things about myself and the way I deal with life that is just not so healthy. It took another round of postpartum depression and anxiety for me to swallow and spit out my pride, reach out and ask for help. I now know that my ongoing attempts to save the world provided a nice noble distraction so I can manage my shit without having to change anything,
Side note: Now there’s redefining the term “waste management.”
Sometimes, there’s another layer to our good intentions and if we are brave enough to peel back the shiny parts, real mending can begin. And maybe, just maybe, we can discover more of who we are and live a life more…true.
So back to basics I go.
Some sleep. Some shower. Some sex. And some writing.
Everything else will have to wait.