STUCK IN A RUT?
Ever been in that place where it's ground hog day every
day? The days that seem to spread
effortlessly into weeks and then months and maybe if we're really unfortunate, years. I call this Ground Hog Treacle
Land because I like to make up silly names.
We know the days in Ground Hog Treacle Land when we look at people but we don’t
really register them because their faces, even though we once liked them, are now part
of the monotony, the endless boring monotony of an endlessly boring life. These faces belong to people who once excited
us because they were new, fresh and interesting and even though they don’t
deserve it sometimes we snap at them and vent our suppressed feelings if they
let us.
Most of the time though it takes
too much energy so we can’t be bothered and in any case we realise that some of
them look like they’re in Ground Hog Treacle Land too, and like us, can barely smile any more.
The thing about Ground Hog Treacle Land is that it’s a place that gets so
familiar that when or if our exhausted bored mind allows us to think beyond the
drudgery, we realise we quite like it. Somehow
we’ve become so loyal to our boredom and dissatisfaction that we’d find the
energy to justify it when an unwitting somebody highlights the fact that we
don’t look happy.
We like the fact that we’re functioning like
programmed robots because most of the people we know are doing the same thing. Some souls who live in Ground Hog Treacle Land still have the
energy to plaster a fake smile and make pleasant noises but many more of us
find the energy to cuss (even if in our head or under our breath) at everyone and
everything that threatens the normality of our Land.
We like the fact that there are so many inhabitants in Ground Hog Treacle Land
and that we’re not alone as our bodies are transported to and from home, around the
house, in our cars, on the street. We gaze
into the faces of all those others moaning about their lives and the sacrifices
and unhappiness that have to be part of life. Then one day (if we’re lucky) we realise
we’re exhausted. Truly and completely
exhausted of the trudge. The treacle is
getting thicker and each step, unbearably hard.
We realise we’re well and truly stuck in Ground Hog Treacle Land and we realise we hate it. Now you’d think the thought would have come
hurtling to our mind before, but no…it’s only then when the exhaustion has made
us ill, we’ve been faced with disaster, we’ve gone stir crazy or we’re gasping
for breath that we realise we have no choice but to STOP and take stock. And it’s then in glaring reality lit up with
neon lights that we realise I’M FED UP!
I’m fed up of the bloody treacle clinging to my feet that I
can’t eat! I’m fed up of rivalling
K9. I’m fed up of the drudgery that
induced a very uncomfortable sleep even when I was awake. I’m fed up being the same and conforming to a
life that has no thrill, no spice, no excitement, no interest, no joy. I’m fed up of the half-life that I willingly
participated in because I thought Ground Hog Treacle Land was where I needed to
be.
So I STOP!
Okay I can’t just leave the job, or the partner
or the home or any other circumstance I find myself in, but I can WAKE UP, open
my eyes and decide what I really want. The me, the unique individual that I am gets
the chance to decide if Ground Hog Treacle Land is where I want to be, is it what
I really deserve and then I set about getting the courage to stay awake, hose
down the bloody treacle so it can’t keep me stuck and make the life I really
want even if it’s going to take some time.
Good-bye Ground Hog
Treacle Land, I’m not stuck in a rut with you anymore!
LB
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