The Two Gremlins At The Foot Of My Bed
On commitment, lethargy, and why alphabetizing your bookshelf by color is not the same as doing the work
If you’ve ever convinced yourself that reorganizing something counts as productivity, this one’s for you.
The most difficult thing a human can do is make a real commitment. It’s hard for me anyhow.
Not a half-hearted sure maybe I’ll swing by kind of commitment. A real one. True commitment asks for something precious: your time, your energy, your vulnerability. And we guard those things as if we’re hoarding bitcoin. I don’t actually know what bitcoin is, FYI.
James Hollis puts it like this:
“Life’s two biggest threats we carry within: fear and lethargy. Every morning we rise to find two gremlins at the foot of the bed. The one named Fear says, ‘The world is too big for you, too much. You are not up to it. Find a way to slip-slide away again today.’ And the one named Lethargy says, ‘Hey, chill out. You’ve had a hard day. Turn on the telly, surf the Internet, have some chocolate. Tomorrow’s another day.’”
My gremlins are a little different. Living with bipolar II, mine lean more toward hypomania and its overeager cousin, hyperfixation. When a new project grips me I can pour everything into it, which sounds impressive but is often just a sneaky way to avoid the deeper messier work of life.
Why wrestle with your inner self when you can alphabetize your bookshelf by genre AND color and then convince yourself this is the perfect moment to launch a business around your revolutionary organizational system? Maybe with an accompanying $1,295 online course?
Too specific?
The Commitment Problem
Lethargy, distraction, avoidance. All just different spellings of the same word: hiding.
Because commitment is terrifying. To commit to anything, a person, a creative project, a friendship, a child, means risking failure. It means risking being seen. It demands you show up even when you’d rather not.
I’ve been noticing this in friendships lately and honestly it’s frustrating. People shy away from even the smallest commitments in this modern fast paced technology driven world. A coffee date. A quick phone call. A text. Ghosted plans are the worst.
I try not to take it personally. Everyone’s consumed by the endless scroll, the chaos of kids’ schedules, the unrelenting demands of life.
We’re all busy! Busy busy busy!
Though somehow there’s always time to text me a meme of Britney Spears twirling in her living room. Priorities.
And before I sound too high and mighty, I’ve done this too (cause of course I have). Sometimes it’s easier to laugh over a meme, or gossip about a friend, rather than to face the deeper truths of a friendship. Most people don’t find it thrilling to ponder their shadow side over a chai latte. They just want to gab about Selling Sunset and call it a day.
I get it.
What Success Actually Is
Phil Stutz puts it perfectly:
“The universe is remarkably successful. Each of us is a tiny model of the universe, and we have within us the same need to ceaselessly create. It is only in the activity of creating that we feel truly successful and alive. No amount of money can replace that feeling.”
Success isn’t fame or wealth or even a shiny new Rivian, though for the record I’d take one in white. Success is the aliveness you feel when you dare to create something new. When you bring something into existence that wasn’t there before.
The gremlins are always there. Every morning Fear whispers you’re not enough. Lethargy says maybe tomorrow.
Commitment requires meeting those gremlins head-on. Actively choosing discomfort over distraction.
Aliveness over avoidance.
It’s not glamorous. Most days it’s not even particularly rewarding in the short term, or if I’m being honest, two years later either.
But true commitment, as terrifying as it is, makes life fuller, richer, realer. It’s not just about creating or connecting.
It’s about becoming.
Saying yes to the messy, unfinished, imperfect aliveness of your own life.
Worth every terrifying unglamorous step.
Probably.
Molly’s Current Obsessions A little treat for making it to the end.
📖 Reading: Anything by James Hollis. The quote above is from his work and I’ve read three of his books this year. Start with The Middle Passage and thank me later.
Substack runs on ♥️’s. Did you know that something like 99% of people never click it? So if this landed for you, be the 1%. Hit the heart. Share it with a human you like. Or subscribe and never miss a post. It genuinely helps more people find this little corner of the internet. I’ll be here either way.