I hate the days that drag, the days I wish I could fast forward through. I hate how much I would miss out on if I could.
How much do I miss out on, toe-tapping through the intolerably long hours, though? Trying to distract myself through cruel eons of tedium? Being present in the moment is a struggle right now.
This year has been rough to be present through. A car crash, repeated injuries and illnesses, the loss of a coworker, the loss of THREE kids I’ve worked with in 6 weeks…it’s been heavy. Keeping my eyes forward, focused on achieving The Bright and Less Distant Future, has been all there is.
It’s funny, sitting here in limbo, outlasting the days between now and that bit that gets built up in my head as The Beginning of The Rest of My Life…it feels stagnant, boring, oppressive like humidity. Three months, Autumn. Three more months, and you start walking that road.
Trying to string my thoughts together into coherent ideas has been harder than normal, and it’s creating some anxiety for me; words are my thing. Words are where I dance, graceless as I am in my physical movements. So to struggle with words is to feel extremely off-balance.
In my frustration, it seems it would be nice to not care how the words come out, to regurgitate them before me and see them for what they are and make sense of it all afterward. But I do care, and so, in the absence of effective words ready to fall flashing brightly from the tip of my tongue (or pen, or keyboard), I fall silent.
Silence can only be maintained for so long, though, before the excess builds up and spills out as Flighty, Distracted, Disorganized. It gets labeled “Quirky” and I continue to search for appropriate outlets for it.
It’s been a few months of struggling to find the words and manage the excess madness. Here’s to happily finding words again, and to finding outlets for quirks, should the words fail me again.