Thank goodness I’m not susceptible to paper cuts. I've lucked out on the genetic lottery, with a skin that’s tougher than average. This is probably due to its tendency to wrinkle in thick layers. It’s definitely saved me from a lot of close calls with the copier. Granted, I also end up with skin texture that is somewhat smoother than a dried peach. But, I'm less likely to moisturize myself with my blood, so I’d say that’s a win.
Still, my workstation is full of loose paper - ready to cut through my natural armor with their ragged edges. Logic would suggest that I could reduce the chance of harm by organizing my area. But my will to do that is weaker than my capacity to reason. It's also way flabbier than my rough, dermal exterior.
But I'm working on the Craft of Effort. I'm finding myself celebrating small achievements, like waking up on time or going for a walk. It's these little things that count. Working on this blog post deserves some self praise, even if I don't finish it. It's all about doing anything that will make me feel productive.
It's these little things that will kick the more damaging cut of depression.
I know I'll need a lot of time and a lot of rubbing against my own resistance. It's kind of like a callous, actually. But, this callous is all mental - meant to protect against self-defeat and lethargy. It's gonna have to be a thick barrier but, as long as I keep going, it'll likely get there.
