It’s been over a month since a journal saved my life, and I’m happy to report that I’m still very much in the business of staying alive, although it’s getting increasingly hard because I’m averaging six hours of sleep a day and my body hates me.
But never mind the body for now. Here’s a quick status report:
- I have unfailingly woken up at 7 am or earlier (and stayed awake) every day for over a month — a heretofore impossible feat for me, prompting Piers to call me a weirdo.
- I crushed my one-month goal of decluttering my home and my life, in the process unearthing such treasures as 4-year-old e-mails from friends I forgot to reply to, and missing odd socks.
- I feel happy and positive 95% of the time. The other 5% says I’m not ready for nirvana. But I’m still young…ish and in no hurry.
- I had another epiphany the other day, telling me quite clearly what I must do for the rest of my life (besides striving for nirvana but, to be honest, I’m not sure I want to).
- Notwithstanding these amazing accomplishments, I am still quite muddle-headed.
Last Thursday, I was cooking lunch, a simple meal of instant noodles, a large handful of tenderstem broccoli and a hard-boiled egg.
I cooked the egg first, then peeled it and set it aside while waiting for my noodles and vegetables to cook (4 minutes). Noodles done, I seasoned it and took it to the table.
I ate my lunch watching a Korean drama, then spent 20 minutes in Facebook. Total: 40 minutes.
It was time to get to work! I cleared my dishes and went to the kitchen, piling stuff in the sink and saw… a peeled hard-boiled egg sitting on an overturned saucepan lid.
“Why is there an egg here?” I wondered in actual surprise.
Cue facepalms and eyerolls.
I realised then that I had completely run out of happy fuel. Every last drop had been exhausted.
Remember, previously, I had described how my new lifestyle had made me sleep-deprived for weeks? And how I was subsisting on positive feelings generated by my positive lifestyle change?
This happy fuel eventually burned out. Of course it would. “Happy fuel” is not a medically acceptable form of fuel for the sustenance of life. The universe must have realised I was being tricky, trying to upturn the laws of nature, so put its foot down.
I was muddleheaded and distracted for days, although I did try my best to keep on being healthy and productive.
More Happy Fuel
Then, near the end of the week, I received another dose of happy fuel. Actually, it wasn’t a dose; it was more like thunder and fireworks.
Last Friday, I woke up knowing exactly what I had to do for the rest of my life.
I mean I didn’t arrive at that conclusion from nothing. I had been mulling over it for years. Heck, for all my life. However, in April, I mulled over it with the help of new insights gained from purposeful personal development (reading self-help books, making lifestyle changes, listening to advice).
Up until Friday, I was still indecisive about my great big plans in life. I didn’t know what I really wanted to do. In fact, I couldn’t even decide whether I wanted to do anything. Couldn’t I just live simply and comfortably in this idyllic resort town I call my home? Many people do. I don’t need great big plans!
Great Big Plans
But Great Big Plans had different ideas and it chose last Friday to tell me so.
“Hey,” it shook me awake quite violently. “Hey! Wake up! I have something to tell you!”
“Huh? What?” I said, bleary-eyed, wary of auditory hallucinations from sleep deprivation.
“You are going to write books,” it said, “Lots of them! It doesn’t matter if you sell one copy or a million copies. You will write books for the rest of your life!”
“What?” I said, “I don’t…… what?”
“And then, you will start a charity that encourages children to love reading books because it will make a better future society.
“What are… huh? No! Now…… what?!?!”
Then, great big plans sprinkled some fairy dust or something, I don’t know, all over my face, waking me up from my dreams courtesy of a sneezing fit.
When the dust settled, my eyes were opened.
The Joy of Purpose
I mean, I could have been suffering a manic episode of bipolar disorder (which my psychologist told me four years ago I didn’t have), but I reeled with excitement all day. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I was so bursting with positive energy you could get zapped standing 10 feet from me.
I knew what I wanted to do and I couldn’t wait to do it!
I spent the rest of my weekend planning my new goal (creating a roadmap) of writing my first novel, with absolutely no idea what I was going to write and even how to write a whole freaking novel.
It was the most exciting weekend I can remember in a long time.
It’s been 10 days since Great Big Plans visited and I still have not wavered in my conviction. That is, not significantly. There were a few evenings when I was tired and allowed doubt to creep in. “What was I thinking? I can’t write a book omg!”
I know my mind; it’s full of trickery. It could very well show up tomorrow and yell at me.
“Happy April’s Fool! Mwahahaha. That wasn’t Great Big Plans; that was just little ol’ me! Haha! Oh wait, it’s May. Oh never mind, you’re a fool! Mwahahaha. You should be a hermit! Goodbye!”
I wouldn’t put it past the mind gremlin to do that. It’s an entity of its own and it’s evil.
But, you know what? I am 5% from achieving nirvana (according to that delusional part of my mind that thinks I’m supergirl). I can beat this. If the mind gremlin so much as pokes its ugly snout out of its dark forest of depravity, I will pull it out and strangle the life out of it and dump it in the trash and set fire to it and call down thunder and lightning on it and then make it listen to Let It Go on repeat for eternity while locked in a metal dungeon with no windows.
How about that, evil mind gremlin? You’re not welcome, ever! I have books to write!