But the thing I really wanted to write about only got a score of 54 - not enough words, not enough story in the headline, definitely no fear mongering. The above headline got a 90! Apparently my prose is on point! The suggestion of adding a celebrity seems contrived at best but what do I know. Maybe next time I'll write about my celeb crush who is actually another blogger nerd mom truthteller. There are conference halls full of them and one day my eyes will be cast that direction and I too will wear sensible flats and drink cranberry soda and who knows what kind of stories we'll tell and selfies we'll take. BUT this, here, is what I really wanted to say.
I wanted to write about the terribly uncomfortable feeling of knowing you're in the wrong place, that every cell feels uncomfortable and how, for me, I automatically attribute that to actually being in the wrong place. Causation problems. I feel therefore I know is pretty much my MO and it's worked out in many situations.
But then I started looking for confirmation bias videos to prove some kind of point about vagus nerves and gut knowing being connected to actual head knowing and the whole neuroscience behind all of that and I ended up with this wonderful almost 6 minute video which encompasses the universe and it's multitudes so nicely. It even includes a tiny birth scene, which I am hoping passes the censors of my locale.
The point is, feeling uncomfortable and wrongly placed is sometimes enough to get us out the door and looking for the next right spot. Wrong feelings help us find the right ones by virtue of their wrongness. And, I'm guessing that all of these birth scenes (universes exploding, babies, DNA strands doing their thing) underwent some significant discomfort before being born.
Maybe it's ok to feel the discomfort, as long as there's no mortal danger and my inner compass is working right most of the time. Yes, Eleanor, I'll feel the fear and do it anyways. But is discomfort fear in a different guise? Snapshot: this writing, these self published molecules in the multiverse of the interwebs, is me feeling the fear and doing it anyways. And it ain't no thing. The discomfort of noting that I am going against my own integrity and self-awareness is a different kind of beast, one that I'm wrestling with on the daily at the moment.
I have no clean ending, no helpful suggestions, and definitely no takeaways. The daily 'is it now? what about now? today or can I do this one more day?' is a challenge to this chronic green grass seeker. Probably I can get a little comfort by considering the infinitesimally small nature of my suffering and the correspondingly large nature of everything else.