D.I.D. I ?

Ah, finally finished the report. Shutdown computer. Plug in. Turn off lights. Trudge to bathroom. Remove contacts, wash face, brush teeth, head to bed. Lay down. 

A hundred faces flash though my head. Words spoken in other voices than my own. Actions I witnessed or performed from earlier in the day repeat, seemingly at random. Laying down, wishing I could sleep, I dwell on the feelings laid out in front of me, mostly inadvertently, by friends, coworkers...or even the briefest encounters with near strangers.

I lay here unable to let go of any of these other than my own emotions, actions, or ideas. I internalize them. I digest them slowly, randomly, and anxiously, wishing for the endless stream of information to end.

 I wonder what my own emotions are. Or rather, where they are. Oh where oh where has my little self gone? Come back, come back...

Or stay away...let me be empty of self or other. Let me be full of Grace. 

Check-in

Still troping along at warp speed, I suppose. Waxy fingers across my forehead; sweat collects between the joints. Aching flashes of tropical sunsets and mile high clubs pass through me like a heartbeat. All I want to do is live! Live, live, live...

How silly. I am more alive than ever; however, yet to feel it.

Poo nuggets

Post-content.

Gosh, geez, gee willackers... Where am I right now? Some kind of endless spiraling staircase of stress and uncertainty, maybe. Perhaps. But probably not really at all. This is what life is really like. Outside of your little fantasy life you've lived, this is it.

Am I really so sensitive that it seems wrong? Is real life too much for me to bear by my very nature? Sometimes I wonder. But at the same time, here I am, living this life, making it work. It is working, I think, even as I feel caught in a kind of clamorous calamity. I wonder if this endless waxing and waning on and on about my life is even worth anything. Does it have an effect on it? Is reflection a truly useful tool? I have met some very interesting people. They live and breathe and die just like i do, but they don't seem to have ever really reflected on any of it.

And they seem...happy. Blessed, even. Very particularly blessed to be able to fin joy and peace even in hard times without having to sit and and speculate about them.

Perhaps my blessing is different. Perhaps all the years I've yearned for simplicity are simply impossible for me because I've been blessed with the ability to complicate everything. Maybe that's good somehow even if I don't want to admit it. Some would call it depth I guess, or wisdom or something, but really it's just complicatedness, which is usually unnecessary! Oh I could go on and on forever but I'm boring myself now.

What an odd day. Now that I can create my own schedule sort of, I find I sometimes have these precarious bouts of time where I simply cannot work as I should be. A client cancels. A behavioral therapist has an issue. Something across town needs to get faxed immediately, but oh wait it's in the car of someone who won't pick up their phone. My schedule is like a moving target, constantly veering out of my crosshairs just as I'm about to pull the trigger. It is just the nature of this work, sadly, so it is something I must learn to roll with. Too bad I can't just ring a bell and match my internal stress frequency to the sound. That'd be swell. It would help, kind of a lot.

Erudite. Cool word.