standing still, waiting for time to move

struggling with patience in a time of stagnation

I am at a place in my life where I feel as though I am stuck standing still. I finished my bachelor’s degree, I have a lovely little apartment with my long-term partner and our two cats. I write poetry when I can, and publish it when I’m able (which all depends on the whims of editors and the unlikely chance my work compliments other submissions from other writers with the same blind hope that I have). I work a 9-5 job from home (which is a luxury) that pays my rent and groceries. I just got a new car. so why do I feel so unfulfilled?

part of me wants to chalk up how I’m feeling, this day-to-day monotony, as the part in the book where we skip forward in time — sometimes we jump years ahead in the narrative and all the narrator tells us is that things were good. I feel as though yes, things are good, but I’m unsatisfied with just good. I’m not making progress.

but I have so much! I have nothing to complain about, from most perspectives. I want to be happy with that. I want to be happy right now, with living my life where I am and appreciating what I have. instead, I’m sitting here grappling for some kind of value to attribute to each passing minute, as if time needs to be spent working towards something, always.

I think everyone in my generation has this problem. we want to see the fruits of our labour now, right now, in front of us, as soon as we accomplish the task (which I blame on the late-stage capitalism of the western world, but I won’t get into that right now). I thought getting my degree and moving into the world of work would be a step forward in my personal fulfillment. I forgot that things take time. sometimes a lot of time. sometimes years pass where nothing happens. but I am impatient, so those years feel like time wasted.

this standing still bleeds into my social life, too — I am paralyzed by my dissatisfaction. I lack the energy or the motivation to interact with others. I’m invited to social events that I turn down. I’m asked to perform and I question whether I truly want to be a performer. I question every opportunity, every project I am asked to be part of. I hold fast to community and connection as integral personal values, but I struggle to bring them into my day-to-day. I cancel half the plans I make, for lack of energy, for the inability to conjure the satisfied and extroverted self I was when I had a greater goal to work towards.

graduating from university has revealed one massive truth that has shaken up my entire worldview: nobody knows what they’re doing. everything is held together just barely. everyone is making it up as they go. how absolutely terrifying it is to know that. I find comfort in the fact that I’m not alone in this feeling, but also deeply intimidated. I don’t know how to do any of this! I don’t know where I could go, let alone how to get there!

and so I stand still. I try to be patient. I submit my work here and there. I do my job, complete monotonous tasks, go to the grocery store. I struggle to text my friends. I struggle to follow through with plans. I struggle to connect. I ache for it. I ache to move forward. but instead here I am: the same place I was before. and when I do follow through, I am fulfilled only briefly. it’s hard to feel like I’m doing things right when the thing I say I live for takes so much out of me. but I try when I can. mostly, I stand still.

I remind myself that this period of stagnancy will pass. I will reconnect, I will feel the embrace of people who understand me, with time. I will find passion in new, hidden places. I will find a job that satisfies me eventually, but until then, I have to start somewhere.

a new chapter will begin when it is meant to. I have to believe that.

I still have to put in work, no matter how slow the progress.

but more than that, I have to be patient.

I ask that you be patient with me, too.

Yours,
Sal