7:47 AM. November 24th.
I’ve been staring at this blog post for 12 hours. I have started no less than 8 drafts of it but no matter where I start or what I say, I erase it.
I feel like I’m wasting my time.
I can’t really place the feeling other than to say that I feel like what I’m saying isn’t worth it. The first 8-10 drafts were just…pointless.
Yesterday, Day 23, was not a bad day. But it was by far the worst I’ve had all month.
I think it started the night before. I was sleeping so well, but for some reason, the night before last, I just couldn’t sleep.
2, 3, 4AM all came and went and I was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
My mind was wondering, I’m sure. I remember going through a lot of emotions. Why? I don’t know. Honestly, I was just kind of there, and experiencing them.
They washed over me. I thought about a lot, while I felt. I remembered being a kid. In the 90s, the only thing on tv, it seemed, during the evening was Batman: The Animated Series.
There were other shows, but if you had a younger brother, or were a younger brother, then you watched Batman.
I remembered watching it. I remembered a lot of things. The time in 6th grade when two of my friends were walking side by side and jokingly bumping/shoving into each other and one of them pushed a little too hard and the other guy hit the locker at an angle and tore a piece of his ear out.
I remembered the last time I went to church.
Probably strangest of all, I remembered my ex girlfriend. Not “an” ex. The Ex. Every guy has that one, when they’re young. Maybe it was way before you learned about game or about how to be a man or something like that.
Whatever it is, most guys have that one ex. Not that she is anything special looking back on it, but I remember her. She had a very toothy smile that was also understated somehow.
She had the most genuine laugh I think I’ve ever heard. We got a long great for most of the relationship. Our sense of humor was very compatible.
Though I haven’t seen her in years, we’re on “speaking terms.” At least as far as cordiality goes, I’m sure. So why was I thinking about her that night? I don’t know. It just kind of hit me. I didn’t even feel like “checking up” on her or seeing how she is. I’m sure she’s fine. It wasn’t even with a purpose.
I just found myself thinking about her, among other things.
I thought about more after that. What I had planned the next day (the 23rd), that I needed to sleep. That I had freelancing work that was due in just a few days that I should get finished early like I normally do.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep but I knew it sucked major ass rolling out of bed at 9AM. Even on my days off, I like to get up before noon so I don’t develop a bad habit or an off circadian rhythm.
I hadn’t slept much and what I had wasn’t restful but it was too late. When that alarm went off, I was up whether I liked it or not and I couldn’t have went back to sleep if I had tried.
I did try. Later in the day.
I tried to get a nap in. After waking up at 9AM, perhaps only an hour or two after falling asleep I finally made my way out to start the day.
I had a lot planned yesterday and so much I needed to get done. I had planned to push my exercises up a notch to get the day started right. I had planned to make major progress on my freelancing gigs so I could have some time tomorrow (today, the 24th). I had planned to resume my fiction novel and put out no less than 3,000 words into it. I had everything planned out, the proper time allotted and was all set.
I accomplished nothing.
I started to go for a run and couldn’t find one shoe. By the time I found my other sneaker I’d lost almost all motivation. I hit my run, got to about lap two and just kinda stopped in place and walked back home.
No cardio, no lifting. Nothing. Not even pushups.
I decided to forgive myself and just “get on” with the rest of my day. I sat down in front of the computer to work on my freelancing job.
Nothing. Nothing came out. I stared blankly at the blinking cursor wishing for anything.
I spent almost the entire time I allotted staring at the screen, getting up once or twice to move and hope that would kickstart the brainstorming.
Nothing.
I went and got some food to try and replenish my juices. Grabbed a cup of coffee to hope the perk would get me moving. I sat down for my fiction novel, pounding out 5 words, realized it was gibberish, erased it, and stared at the screen.
I’ve never had writer’s block this severe. Normally I can power through it and something will end up on the screen. Not this time. Nothing.
I tried reading. Couldn’t focus.
I tried writing a summary for a thesis. The words wouldn’t come out.
Drinking water didn’t help. Trying to exercise again didn’t help.
The only thing I managed to get accomplished all day yesterday was a goddamn virus scan on my computer. It was two clicks, and then just stare at it blankly until it was done.
All day yesterday I was aware of what I needed to do. The things I had to do. The responsibilities. The expectations. Everything. All day, all I could think about was about how I was failing my side hustle. How I was letting my business collapse. How I had let a moment of malaise absolutely wreck my flow. I was thinking about how I was a failure for the day. I was thinking about how if I didn’t get anything accomplished, I was taking three steps back because I would have to make up for the day of lost productivity down the line. I thought about everything I was ruining. Everything I had ruined. I thought about how I would never have a future if I couldn’t break out of it. I thought about how I would never have anything.
I thought about how I would never be somebody.
I thought about a lot, and about everything that was wrong. Then I had a thought I have never had before.
“I won’t have anything to fail if I kill myself.”
After that thought ran through my mind, I sat there in shock. Even at my lowest point, in the roughest days of confusion of puberty and adolescence. Not during trade/college years. Nothing. When family or friends were killed.
Not one time could ever remember thinking anything remotely close to a suicidal thought. Yet there it was. In stark contrast to the fog and haze of the rest of the day, the words were clear as a bell.
It was as if some mental spotlight was trained on the words like the Hollywood Sign of Failure.
I wasn’t scared. Not really. I’ve never been a suicidal person. Even during that moment I didn’t feel like killing myself. No serious thoughts or plans of the logistics. No “if I was going to do it, this is how” type planning. Nothing. It was a stray thought. They say everyone has random thoughts pop into their head like that from time to time and it doesn’t mean anything.
Yesterday, that meant everything. Because it put something in context for me. I was feeling drained. This month has done a lot for my productivity. I’ve taken on more side-hustles. I’ve kept myself busy. I went from a period of a few months of doing almost nothing to suddenly doing EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME CONSTANTLY 24/7 IT’S NEVER ENOUGH DO MORE.
To say the least, I was feeling a bit burnt out. Stressed. Feeling like I was putting more on myself than I could handle.
These of course are only feelings, and are in correct. I can handle far more than I’m putting myself under. My shoulders are too broad to allow such a trifling thing to weigh them down.
Yet it is not the size of the task, but how long I have held it. A dictionary weighs not but a pound or two, but if you hold it out in the palm of your hand for 20 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour? You’d feel like your arms were going to fall off.
I’ve held far more than that for over 3 weeks on muscles that had all but atrophied completely.
To put it simply, I was at the point in the workout were my lungs were afire, my arms ached and every part of me was screaming to quit. Screaming so loudly to quit that it would’ve taken any excuse to stop, even a bullet to the temple, just for a moment’s respite.
This is wholly unacceptable. To think that a workload had bested me leaves me sick to my stomach. My gut reaction is to double down my workload further, to punish my fledgeling willpower for it’s laziness.
However, I know this is incorrect. When I was younger I would have stubbornly pressed my nose to the grindstone even harder. My intent would be to beat the weakness out. The need for rest would be a thing of the past.
To make of myself a veritable Superman.
I know that this is incorrect, and at some level I know what I must do. I’m feeling worn down. It is okay to breathe. It is okay to lessen the load to catch my breath so long as I don’t take that as an excuse to slack off completely or give up.
Yesterday, the 23rd, was by far the worst day I’ve had. My marks are terrible across the board as they should be. They are a reflection of everything I didn’t do yesterday and serve to highlight the one thing I did do: nothing.
Instead of making a scourge of my own mind to strike at my weary will, I’ll take a day or two of stress reduction.
Doesn’t this go against the purpose of #NoNothingNovember? In the short term, perhaps. In the long term, I feel it more accentuates it. The purpose of #NoNothingNovember was not just about November.
It was about cultivating a mindset of conquering yourself. It was about choosing what kind of man you wanted to be and what kind you didn’t and through effort and work, replace the bad traits or habits you possess for those you wish to possess.
So while allowing myself to relax here, so close to the finish line, I may not win the sprint but I am giving myself a chance to finish the Marathon.
Herakles the Red has become Herakles the Red, Blue, and Purple. I’m bloody, beaten, and bruised, but unbowed.
I will finish my freelancing work on time, but I will not put a 25,000 word manuscript as a “two day job” anymore. I will finish my fiction novel, even if it takes me until after December begins.
I will continue my exercise regimen. I will not let the momentary setbacks or failures stop me from continuing to plan my days and executing to make of them what I wish to be.
This blog is honestly a heaven-send. If it weren’t for a place to talk about this, my journey, and what I have to teach other men, I’d likely go crazy just from having too much to say and no way to say it.
So, if you’ve made it this far, whether you stay around in the future: thank you.
There’s almost no reason to even keep score for the 23rd because of how badly it was, but the important part is accountability. That said, today’s scores are:
1) Foregoing of mindless media consumption. 0/10
2) Having a clear daily plan and deadline goals to meet. 0/10
3) Exercise and write everyday. Period. 0/10
Daily Total: 0/30
Yesterday’s Total: 28/30
Total To Date: 555/690
Legends of Men 