Perfectionist Rehab

Today I am waiting,

Peacefulness I am faking.

I steady my breath,

Get myself dressed,

Carry out the tasks,

Execute the asks,

Motivate from within,

Feeling the next phase begin.

Is there anything more tedious,

Than awareness fastidious,

Stalking, lurking, on your mark,

Measured, cautious, careful hark,

Surrendering to prudent action,

Ignoring – the law of attraction.

Set your sights on your desires,

But focus less on what transpires,

Let yourself live and make your move,

Ebb and flow with every groove.

Keep going. Don’t stop. Never falter,

And your reality will indeed alter,

But much of life is a game,

Often in lulls so lame,

Between the big moments that punctuate,

The rising tides fluctuate,

Not every moment is significant,

More are bleak than magnificent.

I know this, still, I suffocate,

Every time I need to wait.

Rushed things never turn out so well,

As those matured ly-natural.

I’m bored! I’m impatient! I want the fix,

The satisfaction on which I’m transfixed,

The next phase, the next start, the new cycle,

I’ve never excelled at being idle.

Boredom gives space for imagination,

Rest neurological syndication.

We are more than our tasks, and yet,

Wasted time does me beget,

Restlessness, nervousness, an attitude,

Useless and grumpy of such magnitude,

I become petulant, a child – I want it now!

It’s not something of which I’m proud.

So here I sit, sipping my tea,

Trying to ease the calamity,

Within my spirit and my mind,

Remembering that things will happen in time.

I focus instead on the steam from my mug,

Swirling and twirling, each droplet tugs,

On the surrounding air without a plan,

Moving every way in which it can.

Do flowers fixate on the day they will seed,

Focus on the next phase they will breed,

Rushing through the season, focused on the next,

Fixating and ruminating every pretext,

To justify ignoring the simple bliss,

Of sun, wind, and rain – entirely missed.

I don’t want to focus on the destination,

Since the journey is the real elation.

But agony still beats in my chest,

Flips over my stomach – the pest.

I’m not sure what is coming, but I felt the shift,

A deepening chasm – nay, a rift,

Between how my life looks today,

And a new reality kept at bay.

I’ve heard that peace is boredom to those,

Who are used to chaos, and I suppose,

I agree since I don’t feel secure,

Unless there’s something to procure.

Am I ambitious or is this a wound,

Am I successful or am I doomed,

Is this a problem to want more,

Than the life I had dreamed of before?

What happens when your goals were so minor,

That you achieved everything you to aspired,

Before you’ve lived a third of your life,

Is it normal to look around in strife?

Did I set out for too little? Did I aim too low?

Is that the reason for the torment below?

How much is enough? What else can I do?

Is this just trauma from the lady in blue?

I’m scared and unsure most of the time,

You’d never know – my acting sublime.

What am I saying? It’s always written on my face,

Every thought and emotion etched in place.

I hate that I’m timid, I hate that I’m scared,

But for life without change, I’m unprepared.