For the past two months I have been beaten down in an epic battle with, in Steve Pressfield‘s terms, Resistance. If you are familiar with his excellent books The War of Art or Do the Work then you know what I’m talking about: that unrelenting push-back against your attempts to accomplish something.
I’ve been losing that battle pretty spectacularly.
Pressfield recently posted “Resistance and Self-Loathing” at his blog, and it’s a post worth reading. It hits home the issues I’m (poorly) dealing with right now. While Pressfield tends to mysticize the concept of Resistance in a way that I cannot relate to, I find that it does help to think of it as something concrete within my own psyche.
This isn’t depression or writer’s block, both of which I’ve dealt with before in the past. It’s hard to describe the difference but for me I think Resistance is much angrier than either. This anger re-purposes my energies to everything BUT my dreams.
Yes, I’ve started a new job and I’ve been jogging and re-organizing the house (big clues that this isn’t depression, because when I’m depressed I don’t even brush my teeth, much less unfuck the living room). But the fact is that life never stops or slows down or makes space for our goals and dreams. Unfortunately, I’m using those things to justify my lack of activity. Anger burns through me and Resistance directs that energy away from my dreams.
Maybe all my goals are out-sized and unrealistic (a reasoning I use a lot to justify inaction) and maybe my talents and skills are mediocre (a huge fear) but without them, I’m an empty husk of a person.
I have a good job I find personally fulfilling, I have a roof over my head, I have friends and family, I have food in the fridge. The things making me miserable are things I have power over, and it’s time I started exercising that power again.