Somewhere among the constant updating of your social media newsfeed, the buzzing of ideas, political rants, endless accounts of he said/she said, the newest binge-worthy series on Netflix, that “Stop the Rodeo Riders from ripping the tails off of Bulls” petition you have to sign- lies your brain. I bet if you’re anything like me, all this is hitting you right in that soft spot and it’s painful. It’s too much. It’s challenging to connect with your “authentic, inner-most self” when you’re hit all day, everyday with this shit.
Inside you’re screaming. You want all the inspiration that wells up from the earthquake in your soul to trigger the landslide of hope that saves the world from a shallow, meaningless death. You’re the one. The one the world needs to pull its head out of its ass. And yet, you’re stuck. Everything you want to say, be, do and have remains bottled up and another moment passes where you’ve done nothing earth shattering. The world spins with all its bullshit still. Perhaps you’ve hit refresh on your newsfeed again or actually signed that petition. Now what? Did that even make a dent?
As I ponder that, I also have to wonder whether or not my darling husband realizes just how much it pains the very pit of my hangry stomach to hear him do the dishes. It isn’t that he’s doing them wrong, I certainly appreciate they’re getting done. It’s the running water. As the soapy sponge aggressively rubs each dish and glass by the force of his veiny, man hands- the water runs. The first thing that comes to mind is: “Are people in Yemen still experiencing a water shortage? Why hasn’t that been in the news? Is there a way I can help from here?”
And yet, here I sit, on my privileged white ass, in my own mortgaged home eating a tofu-and-kale-power-bowl, while my husband watches an apocalyptic movie on Netflix nuzzled up to our two very spoiled pooches. I’m not looking for validation or permission to accept my current situation; because it could disappear tomorrow for whatever reason, and you may very well see me at an intersection begging for your spare change.
I just want to know where to start. How can this scatterbrained INFJ save the fuckin’ world?