Relax, Relate, Release: What Whitley Gilbert Taught This Social Media Minion

Today’s emoticon: Chillin…

I’d love to claim that I’m completely right-brain functioning – you know, one of those dreamy artists living in this laid back, hippie world. I’m not. I analyze everything.

Everything.

This whole era of social media doesn’t help, either. Between Twitter, Facebook and Skype, I get physically sick to my stomach being inundated with the opinions of people with whom which I don’t have real relationships. Everyone is a virtual therapist, preacher, teacher, sexpert, life coach and motivational speaker. In reality, everyone is just narcissistic. Including myself at times. I think we’ve all fallen victim to this idea that in order to be living a successful life, you should be “on the clock” at all times. Daydreaming is a sin. Taking a break is grounds for castration. Dare I even utter the word sleep and one of @iamdiddy ‘s Twitter minions will surely come after me.

A friend and I discussed this generation’s need to make themselves look like their life is so progressive. So shiny. Everyone wants everyone else to believe that they’re living these fantastically charmed lives. Don’t get me wrong – we are a bunch of hard workers, indeed, but this contest to live the best life is not benefiting anyone. In the midst of updating our fabulous statuses, we are really lethargic, tired, slightly broken and out of creative juices…at least I am.

Enter Jamaica.

I could barely get excited about my freaking best friend’s wedding because of all of the crap I loaded on myself. (This was nearly two months ago and I’m still daydreaming about Jamaica like I was there yesterday. Back to the show.) Although I brought my trusty laptop (Like VISA, I can’t leave home without her) the astronomical internet fees caused me to keep her shut. My lovely Sprint coverage wouldn’t allow me to call anyone and text messages  were like $146.00 a pop, so that was out of the question. There I was – Brenda Busybody without her connection to everything that stressed her out on a daily basis.

Bliss.

“No problem, mon,” is the Jamaican motto we were told to immediately adopt by the friendly attendants at the Breezes Rio Bueno resort. Amidst the humidity that turned my once crisp curls into a softer bigger ‘fro (even my hair was commanded to drop its ‘tude), your worries melted into the backdrop of palm trees and crashing turquoise waves. My cynicism was gone after one sip of my strawberry daiquiri (there were many more to come). Gmail was not harassing me for once. I was actually given a little peace. All was still. Jamaicans move slow. Candice and I walked to one of the bars one night and unknowingly scared the crap out of this poor lil bartender. His eyes widen as he asked us what was wrong. Confused, we responded, “Nothing, why?” He then proceeded to imitate our hurried walk and explained that we appeared to be in distress the way we marched over like irate soldiers. Sadly, that was our relaxed trot. Guess it’s the American way. Always in a rush.

Our very last day on the beach, we walked to the shore one last time and just stood there in silence. As the waves crashed, I thought about my life. I’m moving 1,000 miles a minute, but am I really going anywhere? How much of my time do I spend being busy, when really, if I took the time to slow down, I’d actually gain some clarity on a few things. My car’s oil change is overdue by a month, but I’ve been to about ten events since the month began. Priorities, people…priorities. I teared up on the flight home thinking about leaving my best friends…the ones I truly feel safe with, and having to get back to the craziness of it all. Don’t get me wrong, I am blessed and appreciative, I just need to rearrange a few things.

Fast forward.

I came home. Sad. Wondering why I came home. It had less to do with leaving Jamaica, but more about what I had to come home to. I thought to myself, ‘I’m officially in a rut’.

How severe is it, you ask? Not to the point where I’m passive aggressively rubbing a butter knife over my wrist, but more so just not generally feeling as happy as I normally do. I’m in a constant state of “what am I doing with my life?” Funny because that’s the central problem of one of the characters in one of my screenplays. She feels aimless. Hopeless. Steadily working, yet not making any emotional progress. A friend and I pinpointed the issue as only “living in the future.” When you’re so consumed with tomorrow, you can’t even fathom enjoying the fruits of today. There’s too much work to be done to acknowledge progress. Even if you have achieved something miraculous and wonderful (not saying that I have), you shouldn’t actually stop and smell the roses that you’ve spent months  planting and nurturing. Preposterous. There’s a whole garden to conquer, right?

Wrong. You will lose your mind, people. This whole idea of the “grind,” which is really just an over-publicized term to describe good ‘ol regular “work”, should NEVER compromise your mental health. Take it from someone who is shooting for the stars, reaching for the top and trying to make a laughable dream come true..

1. You should sleep.

2. You should eat breakfast.

3. You should actually sit on your couch from time to time.

4. It is ok to look away from your computer to day dream off into the distance every now and then.

5. It is perfectly fine to make friends with no intentions of creating some business partnership with them. Be IN the business of making fabulous friends. Those are the folks who will invest in your future spiritually, emotionally and financially.

6. Pray.

7. Pray again.

8. Eat Coldstone icecream frequently.

Am I saying that you shouldn’t make sacrifices to make your dreams come true? Absolutely not. There will be many late nights and moments of exhaustion. But if you’re doing it just to be able to embellish your tweets..go sit down somewhere.

Until we read again,

~Kimberly

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