So, now that I picked up momentum with this hard drive cleanup business, I went ahead and moved a bunch of old stuff off my “regular” machine, to free up space for other things. Feels pretty good. A lot of the things I moved onto my portable hard drive were fascinations from years gone by that are no longer of any interest to me.
It sounds strange to hear myself saying that, but it’s true. Once upon a time, much of those topics absolutely fascinated me — held me in rapt attention. History… mythology… fiction… Now, I just don’t have any interest in them. They’re mildly intriguing, but they’re nowhere near as vital to me as they once were.
I think part of the reason is just getting older and growing up. The rest of it, I believe, is because ever since I figured out that my stress levels were self-perpetuating, and being under constant duress due to unrecognized environmental sensitivities, having my balance all out of whack, and having such a hard time each day, just getting by… ever since I figured that out and started to take steps to remedy things, I’ve had less and less need to escape into those worlds and entertain/distract myself with those activities. I’ve needed far less “soothing” activity to keep myself sane, ever since I figured out how to: A) listen to people, B) talk to people, C) relax, D) get myself feeling good even under not-so-great conditions, and E) just let it all go.
Before I knew how to do any of this, I was on constant edge, my sensitivities were off the charts, I had trouble staying upright, I was a bundle of nerves, I was constantly on edge over something, and I led a very, very, very controlled life, surrounded by people like me, who had issues of their own and couldn’t come to terms with them, and so — like me — were fascinated with all sorts of esoteric things, which kept them intrigued, entertained, and soothed.
Holy smokes, is my life different now.
And as I look around my home office, I see a whole lot of books that have no appeal to me anymore. They are familiar, being in their usual spots on the shelves, but I have no interest in picking any of them up and reading them. Of course, the fact that reading is now more of a chore for me than an enjoyable pastime, probably has something to do with it, but even if I could read them all easily , I don’t think I’d have much interest. I’m too busy living.
Yeah, my life is quite different. And in a couple of months, when I am away from this god-awful job and getting on with my life (hopefully closer to home – that’s the plan), I intend to go through this office and turn it into a place I recognize now as some place I would choose to be. I really have to get rid of a lot of these books — I can give them away, I suppose, assuming that they don’t have sentimental value for me. I can also box them up and stash them somewhere. I also need to get rid of a lot of “supplies” I’ve been hoarding (no, not *that* kind of reality-t.v. hoarding), which I have not used in years, and probably never will.
Anyway, that’s a few months off. In the meantime, I just need to keep on keepin’ on, the way I have been, not make any more of a mess than I already have, and keep focused on what matters to me right now.
Because that’s changing. For the better.
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