I Can’t Keep Up With The Culture

And I don’t want to.

Adobe Stock By Monika Jurczyk

For the past however many months, or years, I’ve had this feeling bubbling beneath the surface. This feeling of not being able to keep up with life, this feeling of overwhelm.

I used to be able to keep up. Back when I was 21, young, and crazy. I could handle going to school full time, working full time, and partying full time. I was always on the go, making plenty of money, spending plenty of money, and socializing like it was my second job. I sort of remember feeling stressed back then, but I used alcohol and weed as bandaids. I think I was stoned for like 3 years straight.

Back then I didn’t know what slowing down meant. The momentum, the constant go, go, go is what sustained me. I didn’t have a second to sit down and give my body a chance to figure out what was really going on. I never thought about my emotional or mental well-being and if I did, it was when my friends and I were joking about how messed up we all were.

Here in the US, the expectation is that you keep up and if you don’t then something is wrong with you. Maybe you’re like me, maybe you’re having trouble keeping up. Maybe you thrive in the chaos of this country. Maybe you are young and crazy (or old and crazy) and haven’t yet given yourself a chance to notice how demanding societal expectations are.

Like I’ve mentioned before, my life is slow. Compared to most around me, it’s quiet, calm, underwhelming. But to me, it’s still too much. The expectations are too much. The norms don’t feel “normal.” No matter how much unlearning I do, the culture is still ingrained in my bones. When I’m anxious, I’m constantly thinking about the future, constantly doing math in my head trying to figure out how many hours I need to work to pay my bills for the month. Desperately trying to find that magic number that will allow me to pay all of these bills and have a life outside of work. Because life isn’t about work. Life isn’t about money. It’s easy to forget that in this country.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to live for the weekend or save for retirement. I want to live now. While I’m here and alive and able to move my body however she pleases.

That never-ending to-do list keeps getting longer and longer because there’s so much stupid shit to deal with. Do you ever have those days where one stressful thing happens, then all these teeny tiny things go wrong and even though they are so small, the compilation of them all is enough to make your heart explode? That was me last week.

Friday was extremely stressful. Whenever I have a stressful experience, I always try to prioritize time to rest and reset but that just wasn’t in the cards for me last week. I was working a few extra days so I got my rest that evening then woke up and went to work the next morning with intentions of continuing my “rest and reset” after work. There was a storm that day and when I returned home from work that evening, only one of my two dogs was there. The back gate had blown open in the storm and my adventurous pandemic (aka naughty!!) puppy seized his opportunity to go out and explore.

The feeling of coming home to one of your animals missing with no missed calls on your phone is definitely up there on the list of worst feelings. Luckily and amazingly, I found him tied up to someone’s house just one street over only a few minutes after looking. Although I felt better after finding him and bringing him back home, my nervous system didn’t register this as a sign to return to homeostasis. The compounding stress of regular life things, plus irregular life things completely dysregulated my system. Thank god for my dad, who lives nearby and is always willing to drop whatever he’s doing when I need help or support. (Thanks dad!)

After things settled down, the fence was fixed, the dogs were safe and my dad went home; the teeny tiny things started. I was tired and hungry and there was pretty much nothing to eat in my kitchen because I hadn’t gone to the grocery store. My phone was glitching, my texts disappearing into the void after I sent them. I get into my car and the tire pressure light turns on, even though I had just put air in a couple of days ago.

Yes, these are all very silly little things. Tiny. And yes, they are privileged problems. I am very aware and very grateful to have a home with pets and a fence and a loving dad and a phone and a car and grocery stores. I really am. AND maybe, these privileges aren’t serving me. Maybe all of these privileges we have in this country are exactly the things that contribute to that never-ending to-do list, to that compounding stress, to that disconnected mentality of living for the weekend.

When I take time to dream up a life that I could keep up with, I dream of living somewhere where I don’t need a car. I dream of living somewhere where they understand that life isn’t about money. Somewhere where basic human rights (shelter, water, food, healthcare, etc.) don’t cost you your youth. Somewhere where the food isn’t completely devoid of nutrients. Somewhere where I don’t have to feel embarrassed for having health issues. Somewhere where the immense pressure of needing to show up for work doesn’t outweigh my body quietly begging me to stay home and rest. Somewhere where the people value living beings over inanimate possessions. Somewhere where we take the time to take care of ourselves and each other and the planet. Somewhere where a deep connection to self, to spirit, and to nature is valued and children are taught to honor this sacred connection. Somewhere where, when we think of the future it isn’t because we’re doing the math to figure out how much money we need to get by, it’s because we are being thoughtful in how our present actions and choices may affect future generations.

That place isn’t here.

Here, people kill themselves, figuratively and literally, trying to keep up with capitalistic culture. Here, we ignore what our bodies are whispering (sometimes screaming) to us because going to the doctor or the hospital is just another bill. A big bill with a big headache, because here doctors don’t take the time to listen to us or to get to the root of what’s going on in our bodies. Here, we’re about pumping and dumping. Always calculating how we can squeeze the most out of someone or something while giving the least of ourselves, our time, our money. That’s our M.O. Here, we teach our children the most important thing in life is to do what you’re told, go to school, and get a “good job.” Here, we mindlessly reach for what’s quick and convenient. And if we know it’s going to hurt us or something else in the long run, we add it to that never-ending to-do list and promise to deal with it later.

I don’t want to contribute to the success of this fucked up system. I don’t want to adjust and learn how to keep up here. I honor and acknowledge my feeling of overwhelm as Truth. I graciously receive the messages from the Earth, who is desperately trying to tell us to stop, that we’ve gone too far. I hear her crying. When she cries, I cry. Because we are deeply connected.

So for now, I do what I can. I live mindfully and gently. I retreat into my little house in the middle of this little city to find some peace. I work with the little piece of Earth that my house sits on, gardening, composting, loving, tending, giving, receiving. Determined to leave this little piece of Earth even just a smidge better than I found it. I keep dreaming and planting seeds of the life and the culture I can keep up with. And I know that one day, I will meet that dreamy simple life where the people are connected with what’s important.

Until then, I welcome this feeling of overwhelm and thank it for showing me and reminding me what I know in my heart to be true. That not only is it ok to have these feelings, but these feelings are important and necessary for our survival.