This morning I found myself sobbing on my yoga mat in extended child’s pose. Quite childlike, I suppose… an extended toddler’s pose, if you will.
My brain is in the trenches of an internal war of attrition between the negative and the positive. Between the side of me that sees the glass half full, grabs life by the balls and laughs loudly, versus my tendency towards cynicism, sarcasm and anxiety.
I find myself analysing and counter-analysing my feelings constantly. Why can’t I just be happy all the time? Always take the positive stance? How come I’m not leaping out of bed and rushing out the door to go and be awesome every day? To be the best I can be?
I count myself as a striver. A do-er. An achiever. You want something sorting out? Talk to me, I’m already on it.
Does that mean that when I am not striving and thriving – when I don’t want to get out of bed, or am struggling to shake off worries – I am failing? Absofuckinglutely not. So why does it feel like I am?
Because positive is The New Thing.