I’ve had three false starts at a blog post today. Each time I’ve nixed it because it just felt too dark and depressing. My head is kind of stuck in the storm clouds as of late and I’m not really sure how long it will be before I can escape. Everyone is always so “think positive,” “have faith,” blah, blah–those things might sound good but they aren’t very helpful to a person who is drowning. Just swim and you’ll be fine. I don’t know how to swim! Just kick your feet and paddle your arms. Thanks for that bit of
I would love to be here saying that during my recent absence I was prolifically productive: pounding at the keys, word after word, sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph. Alas, that is not the case. Not even sure where my head is at this point. I am “un-ing” along. Unfeeling. Unaware. Uninspired. Unsure. Undead. Going through the motions. Waking up each morning in a brain fog on autopilot. Coffee. Feed dog. Take dog out. Smoke two cigarettes. More coffee. Log into work. Check on classes. Start work. Work. Work. Work. Schoolwork. Dinner. Sometimes more work or more schoolwork, sometimes TV
…these are the Days of [My Life]. Just can’t seem to shake the funk. The days all seem to run together and I never feel like I get any time to do anything. Work has been pretty steady with frequent extra hour opportunities, for which I am grateful. BUT between work, school (I have mentioned I went back to school again?), being a taxi to one of my kids and just all the other everyday run of the mill bs I feel like I can’t get ahead and I certainly can’t relax. I’m not really sure what I was thinking.
and try to forget all the horrifying things going on in the world? Sometimes you can’t. Sometimes you just have to give in to the urge. It’s called recharging. Hopefully, you come back out ready to face the sh*tshow yet again. Love & Light
I should be working right now. Money is, afterall, the only thing it seems one needs to get by in this world. But I’m distracted and have a million and one things battling inside my head. So much that I want to say and do. Yet I sit here, fingers poised over the keyboard, unable to find the words or put them together in a way that makes sense. Another million thoughts start whizzing around. The anxiety stifles output. I’m so tired of anxious thoughts. So tired of questioning myself at every moment of every day. So tired of always