These days, only sleep liberates me from being consumed by anxieties. I’m caught up in school, org and work responsibilities and I’m afraid if I don’t slow down and take a breather, I’ll end up just shutting myself down. God knows that has happened before. Perhaps it is this tendency to go in with full force making the moments of self-doubt inevitable. Still, I write this with the certainty that I will bounce back, and knowing myself, seeking temporary refuge in writing is imperative for recovery.
With everything happening all at once, taking even just a day off has become a luxury. I like to think I deserve this — the sweetness of doing nothing. The Italians have a word for this but I forgot.
If only it were possible, I’ll be camped on some mountain or by the beach but writing in my room in my bedclothes on a lazy Wednesday’s all I can afford for now. We get through with the simple things. That’s something I’m learning recently, from someone who has that superhuman ability to calm me down. And that’s what I’m focusing on, the little things. Reality gets too overwhelming, too imposing at times.
The problem with me is that I am easily excited by possibilities, and while that in itself is not at all a bad thing, it makes you lose sight of the here and now. Zooming back in helps the pressure dissipate, reminds you to use the present tense however far off into the future you’re looking.
Mind you, I’m not complaining. Lately my life has been brimming with laughter and light and dreams and goals being met one at a time and love — yes, love, as I’ve never felt it before, a feeling (or to borrow his term, a “filling”, of all the remaining crevices of heart and soul) that crept up one random Sunday morning — so I’m not short on my daily dose of inspiration.
I’m just exhausted, and I’ve found that I no longer spend time with myself as much as I used to, which is pretty much tantamount to feeling genuinely rested for me. On top of that, I miss writing. I pride myself most in being self-aware and losing touch with my own thoughts — a cliche that did not make sense to me until now — makes me feel like I am not really fully present. Balance is something I’ve correlated to how much writing I get done, and it bothers me that I haven’t put down a page in a long while.
And now I have. It’s not much, but it’s a start.