As I regain control, I remind myself that I would never allow another person to manipulate me the way I let my impulses control me, like an instant slap I desperately needed,
As I reclaim my control, I confess I’ve let feelings dictate my choices and then I act surprised when my life feels unstable, like I didn’t sign up for this kind of chaos,
As I reclaim my control, I notice how I keep calling it “emotion” when it’s really a habit or like an old pattern of obeying the loudest voice inside me,
As I reclaim my control, why do I keep surrendering my independence to something as temporary like a passing urge,
As I regain control, I stand firm and allow the urge to slowly dissipate like the rest of my pain..
I refuse to be carried off by restlessness, feeling the urge to check, to give up, to distract, and owning how quickly I reach for ease instead of completion,
I refuse to be swayed by restlessness, I admit that I’ve made fear my manager, allowing it to assign my tasks, diminish my attention span, and determine when I’m “ready”,
I refuse to be carried off by restlessness, I notice how the future becomes a threat in my mind the moment I sit down to do the work that would actually build it,
I refuse to be carried off by restlessness, can I stay with this discomfort without turning it into another reason to stop,
I refuse to be carried off by restlessness, I remain in the chair until the urge exhausts itself…
I choose to keep my hands moving, remembering that creation is more ember than a bang, and noticing, again, how easily I overlook that truth,
I choose to keep my hands moving, I admit I want the glow without the hours, the breakthrough without the bruising, the reward without the repetition,
I choose to keep my hands moving, I notice how effort feels insulting when my ego wants to be effortlessly gifted instead of faithfully trained,
I keep my hands moving, what if the only way through doubt is to outlast it with action,
I keep my hands moving, laying down another line and another until I create an endless loop of effort…
I will not feed into fear, I’ve watched it expand when I let it linger, feeding on my uncertainty as though it has earned my trust,
I will not feed into fear, I confess I’ve handed my power away by treating my worst thoughts as if they’re honest advisors instead of scared guesses,
I will not feed into fear, I feel how it tries to steal the rare chance of flow by making me tense, self-conscious, and overly awake to my own flaws,
I will not feed into fear, learning that the fragile spark survives best when I stop arguing with it,
I will not feed into fear—I choose the work, give my energy to what I can shape, and starve the panic until it can no longer speak…
Watchwords:
I reclaim my control, let urges burn out
I refuse to be yanked, remain in chair
I keep my hands moving, outlast doubt
I do not feed fear, starve panic
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
