The Art of Simply Being

Sitting here in the backyard, hiding from the sun with the protection of the upper deck, amongst the plants, bugs, and the occasional bird flying overhead, I feel utterly exhausted at what and for why I am never quite sure. 

Exhausted by the heat, by my never-ending to-do list, by the article I am taking way too long to write, not even copious amounts of caffeine seem to awaken me, I don’t know what I am doing. Not just today, ever. The little I want to do seems to be crowded by all I must do. But what must I do? Just keeping myself alive is work enough. This society is an expert at plaguing you with a constant feeling of never focusing on the right thing. No matter what you may be doing. 

I don’t care about that. I’ve long since retired the urgency this society has attempted since birth to gaslight me into. I am just downright exhausted from getting through days. That is what it too often feels like. I know I must find ways to enjoy myself more. To express myself. Something about it feels time-sensitively important and absolutely trivial at the same time. 

I may not be able to solve all the world’s problems, but maybe I can at least solve my own? One would think. But I am not so sure. 

Recently, I heard someone say, “I don’t wait for a special occasion because being alive is the special occasion,” and I couldn’t agree more. I have adopted it as my new life motto. So if I want to enjoy bubbly in my backyard on a Tuesday afternoon, watching the sunset, listening to 1940s jazz, and writing about my angst than damn it that is what I am going to do. 

Now, where were we… 

Ah, yes, the daunting passage of time and the guilt, or rather anxiety, I feel for not enjoying it properly. 

This isn’t just the usual; my life isn’t so bad, so why am I sad all the time? Though a valid question, anyone paying attention to anything past the tips of their fingertips can answer it with ease. 

I wake up in the morning, or often afternoon, and immediately feel at an impasse. My notes app is filled to the brim with a collection of to-do lists that never quite get done. I am a creative, and most of the work I do, if you can call it that, is completely unstructured and mostly up to me, and while that sounds ideal, I’ve been in neurodivergent burnout for several years, and the reality is a lot harsher than it sounds. 

Many, many days, I am just doing the bare minimum to take care of myself, my cats, and the few things I must get done because I have most likely waited until the last possible minute to complete them and can wait no longer. And that is all. 

Is this to say I don’t spend any time on things I enjoy? Certainly not. I do spend time on what I enjoy. One could argue too much sometimes. I will quite literally toss other obligations out the window to spend more time doing something I enjoy or spending time with someone I care about. But who doesn’t? 

That is the impasse that most of us seem to find ourselves at when we awake each day. Will today be a day I drudge through what I must do and hope to have enough time and energy left over for something I want to do? Or is today a day I will toss those obligations to the side and enjoy this one short life I have? Can I afford to do that? Do I care? 

I am exhausted daily by this mental battle. I am also sick of people talking about trying to make both things possible. If you make your work something you love, doesn’t that help? No, it does not. Anything I enjoy that I have turned into a way to make money to live off of, I have rapidly come to despise. 

Lying in bed with someone I love, cuddling, talking for hours on end 

Going on long walks with no destination

Sitting in a cafe reading all day 

Writing with no point or deadline 

Sleeping in 

Staying up all night 

Singing badly

Dancing often 

Cooking pasta at 2 am 

Hanging out with my kitty cats

Sitting on the beach at night just to watch the moon’s reflection over the water 

This is why I am alive. 

That is the point for me. 

The end goal. The destination. Simply to enjoy. 

Nothing more complicated than that. 

I don’t care about doing anything important, noteworthy, or groundbreaking. 

I don’t care if anything I ever create is read or listened to, or cared about. 

The point for me is to enjoy. 

The fury I carry mainly comes from being born into a reality that forces me to have to aspire to more than that. 

Aspire isn’t the right word. 

Aspire sounds like you are aspiring to be promoted at your job or aspiring to become famous for your art. 

This reality forces you to become either a wage slave, a criminal, or a martyr, and sometimes all three. 

Law is a social construct. To the wealthy, it does not apply; for the rest of us, one action can change the course of our lives. 

I am not here to rant about that today. Though just look around, the best education is the one you get with your own eyes. 

I do not want to accept any of these labels. 

I am only labeled a ‘leftist’ because this world is so backwardly cruel that believing everyone has the right to enjoy life simply by being born is seen as radical. 

I do not aspire to be a revolutionary. 

I do not fantasize about having to organize to survive a fascist regime. 

I do not find any glory in doing the little I can to help out. 

Giving a plate of food or medicine to someone who this system has chewed and spit out repeatedly, and then having them sing your praises as if you did them a favor, that is not an experience I relish nor wish to keep experiencing.

It should never have to happen in the first place. 

And that is what I mean by I don’t aspire to do anything great or groundbreaking. 

I simply want to be. 

To be myself, to experience life with those I love, to express myself however I want to day by day, to enjoy all the strange, beautiful things this world has to offer, and to know that everyone else is getting to do the same. 

That would bring me the most joy. 

To never again have to think about how to provide people with basic necessities while I also struggle to get by. 

Simply being seems to be a lost art form. 

So every day I wake up and wish to simply be, and then must force myself, as if wading through quicksand, to proceed, attempting to be someone who can survive this cruel society. Which I usually do a pretty bang-up job of. 

All while knowing that the clock is ticking on the way things are, which are already not great, and if those of us who dare to care don’t band together and do some drastic actions we all wish we didn’t have to think about the way things are will continue to get worse, and rapidly. 

This is why I feel exhausted even when I have a good day. Even when I get to drink prosecco and watch the sunset. Even when I hear good music, and connect with people I love. Even when I see people smiling, laughing, and dancing. 

I still wake up the next day at the same impasse.

I still feel that no matter what I do today, 

tomorrow, 

or the day after that, 

it won’t matter much before too long. 

So I just do, 

I wake up 

I drink my coffee

I cuddle my kitties

I go hang out with people I love

I write 

I cry 

I try 

And I’ll try again tomorrow 

Attempting each day to find peace in the unknown 

The present is all we have after all 

On this day, I slept in, I hung out with my best friend, I drank good coffee, ate delicious food, and enjoyed being outside even in the TX summer heat. There is truly much to be grateful for, even if the passage of time and its uncertainty terrifies me, it will not stop me from being grateful and enjoying these simple, beautiful moments. 

Don’t let it stop you either. 

With gratitude, 

Charlotte Rose