I really hate these phases I go through.
They always seem to come and go at such speed that it takes me weeks to realise they even occurred in the first place, then when I do, all I can seem to recall is how much of a fuck up they were.
But in the thrill of the moment I am always so sure of myself, so confident that this 'new and improved' me is simply an upgrade from the person I was a few weeks prior.
But it never ends up being that way. Why else would I still be repeatedly trying to upgrade myself?
There really is no 'perfect' me.
I can't be social and still study enough to maintain my high standards.
I can't do my own thing on the weekends and also spend time being social.
I can't even seem to find a simple plan that I can follow when it comes to what I cook for dinner at night.
I confess, I've been lazy.
I haven't cooked a decent meal in weeks, I've barely stepped foot in the gym, I don't really want to list the amount of times I've eaten takeout over the past month and I really don't want to have to consider how much money I have slipped up spending on drinks as each Saturday blurs by.
I still owe people money, which is incredibly unlike me.
I still haven't paid for my passport to get renewed. I have bills to pay coming up hot on my heels and yet I'm pushing coins around in my wallet at a work lunch trying to work out if I can really afford the entree.
I've been living beyond my means and it's catching up to me.
But in the blur of the past few weeks I haven't stopped to notice.
I bought two tickets to an ice hockey game, saving one for a person who ended up not showing. I went for a drive around the outskirts of Canberra, alone, for no reason other than to waste the petrol and the time. I opened my laptop and looked at my manuscript and then closed it again because I didn't have the time to start the next sentence. I stayed out until 6:30am on Saturday night and then wondered why I let myself waste all day Sunday doing nothing.
I live for the moment the weekend starts and I can do... well things, I guess.
Things that I somehow convinced myself between this and that that I couldn't do during the week.
I got social media back and wondered how much time I would waste scrolling. The answer is: a lot.
I miss reading, but can't seem to find the strength to pick up a book.
I miss hiking, but can't seem to make a plan to go out and do it.
I miss being skinny but can't seem to stop befriending the Dominoes delivery driver.
There are so many aspects of my life that are frustrating me but all I can seem to do is complain about them.
It's like I'm in a weird floating room, where I can see all my problems and all their solutions laid out in front of me but I can't seem to connect the dots.
But I guess that's what life is really about.
Phases of yourself, going through all the different aspects of you that make up your personality, experiencing all of them.
I guess I have to process them all individually, work out the pros and cons and try and make sense of the minefield. I mean, assume my adult self will be a sort of jumbled version of every "phase" I have ever gone through. But it truly is exhausting.
These self-reflections just remind me that I haven't become an adult yet...
Oh well, guess I'll just have to keep growing and hope it jumps out at me when I need it.