The closer I got to Sunday, the grouchier I felt about writing my blog.
Things are quiet, so I felt semi-justified in not writing. At least justified enough to let the week slide on by with nary a word. There's nothing to write about anyway. Nothing is happening. Peep's visit is a bright spot in a long landscape of humdrum. Everything else is just-- maintaining. I'm building a path through my dirt yard, but nothing worth waxing philosophic over. Plus, I ran out of rocks and feel sulky about collecting more. I think about my next painting a lot, but feel reluctant about actually painting. I think about doing lots of things but find reasons to avoid all of them.
God, we're great at lying to ourselves aren't we?
Because it's not at all true that nothing is going on. In my real life, the life I'm trying so hard to ignore, there is so much going on that I don't know where to start. Just like every week.
I have about 800 million have-to's fidgeting impatiently in the wings-- ripping out drywall, buying groceries, working on paintings, filling out paperwork to short sale our house, laundry, blog updates, maybe figure out one or two clear life goals. Oh-- and make dinner.
Beyond that I have to make sure Miss G is turning in homework and Dan is taking his meds and pay bills and keep us all clothed and fed. Most weeks, even within that murky jambalaya, one particular something will poke its head out from out of my crowded mind and evolve into a blog post.
But not this week.
This week, everything is jammed into a sardine can; every passing thought is hollering and cussing and wanting to be counted. There is such a press in my mind that I literally can not bring myself to do any of it. I play Tetris while my brain runs in a loop: I have so much to do. I have so much to do. I have so much to do. Yet I sit paralyzed.
Yesterday morning, the storm broke. Instead of turning my computer on, I dumped four (yes, four) full laundry baskets on my bed and started folding. I checked some books out of the library on starting non-profit organizations. I cut out stars for my painting and squeezed in quality time with Miss G.
I don't know what changed/shifted/switched on. I really wish I did, because whatever it is needs cranking up full volume. It's time to escape overwhelm and get to work. I'm too used to cocooning; it's really, really hard to disengage from that insulated cotton coziness.
It's Spring, after all. Life is exploding all around me.
Things are quiet, so I felt semi-justified in not writing. At least justified enough to let the week slide on by with nary a word. There's nothing to write about anyway. Nothing is happening. Peep's visit is a bright spot in a long landscape of humdrum. Everything else is just-- maintaining. I'm building a path through my dirt yard, but nothing worth waxing philosophic over. Plus, I ran out of rocks and feel sulky about collecting more. I think about my next painting a lot, but feel reluctant about actually painting. I think about doing lots of things but find reasons to avoid all of them.
God, we're great at lying to ourselves aren't we?
Because it's not at all true that nothing is going on. In my real life, the life I'm trying so hard to ignore, there is so much going on that I don't know where to start. Just like every week.
I have about 800 million have-to's fidgeting impatiently in the wings-- ripping out drywall, buying groceries, working on paintings, filling out paperwork to short sale our house, laundry, blog updates, maybe figure out one or two clear life goals. Oh-- and make dinner.
Beyond that I have to make sure Miss G is turning in homework and Dan is taking his meds and pay bills and keep us all clothed and fed. Most weeks, even within that murky jambalaya, one particular something will poke its head out from out of my crowded mind and evolve into a blog post.
But not this week.
This week, everything is jammed into a sardine can; every passing thought is hollering and cussing and wanting to be counted. There is such a press in my mind that I literally can not bring myself to do any of it. I play Tetris while my brain runs in a loop: I have so much to do. I have so much to do. I have so much to do. Yet I sit paralyzed.
Yesterday morning, the storm broke. Instead of turning my computer on, I dumped four (yes, four) full laundry baskets on my bed and started folding. I checked some books out of the library on starting non-profit organizations. I cut out stars for my painting and squeezed in quality time with Miss G.
I don't know what changed/shifted/switched on. I really wish I did, because whatever it is needs cranking up full volume. It's time to escape overwhelm and get to work. I'm too used to cocooning; it's really, really hard to disengage from that insulated cotton coziness.
It's Spring, after all. Life is exploding all around me.
Yaaay for you for taking steps! Being overwhelmed *is* paralyzing - and the only way to break out of it is to tackle *something.* Good for you. *Hugs*, friend!
ReplyDelete