I’ve been walking through this state of detachment now for several days. I am cut off from feeling tethered to any particular plan, goal, end game, etc. The end game is back to what it once was, but there’s no “I have my little side project going” thing to accompany it. Am I about to do what I’ve really wanted to do all along, or what I was really supposed to be doing? I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means, anymore. Maybe it really is what I want to do: have life be utterly predictable so that I can fill my free time with family time and my time–running, reading, writing, painting.
There is no need to exult myself. That’s what I’ve been very good at–imagining so many life scenarios where I am suddenly placed on a pedestal above others. Exulting myself means that I inevitably end up setting very high expectations for myself that I can never fulfill.