Loyaltee

When you least feel able, you find the best reward for beginning.  I feel really inept and unable today.  I feel really paralyzed.  I need to to set another therapy appointment, but there’s a lot of work stuff making the insurance up in the air short-term, so I just don’t want to end up fucking something up with that and it’s not like I am dying or anything…I just need to get the pat on the back again.  It gets really clear when you go.  When you don’t, and just listen to the one voice telling you to crouch in the corners of yourself, or you block even that one out so that there’s just a cotton-like white noise wrapped around every choice and emotion, well, that’s a hard nut to crack.

Even if you’re doing really well one day, the next can be this sort of muted anvil plopped down on you from above.  That is not a choice.  A choice is to recognize, wow, I have spent this week feeling really unable to address my life.  What are those thoughts that I’m thinking.  And like a child, you have to unwrap and unroll the stuffing and insulation that you’ve filled the empty spaces with and let the wind whistle through those voids.  Let those echoes start to bounce.

I want to start from a perfect square one.  I want to be horrified at the mess and have all my energies marshalled and crackling.  I want to be overwhelmed by all that there is to face and rise up despite it.  I have done this.  I will do this.  But I don’t need to.  I just need to do what is in front of me.

It’s a whole weekend.  It’s a whole forty-eight hours.  It’s rest, it’s work, it’s writing, it’s gaming, it’s staining that desk purple or blue maybe.  It is

So you put on Lark Rise to Candleford.  You glance at Anne of Green Gables, rest all their souls.  You find the apron from the back of the closet.  You pull up your hair into a ponytail.  You gather up all of your cleaning supplies.  You lasso the vacuum cord.  You remake the bed.  You put that stray boot back into the closet.  You find yourself capable of emptying off and wiping down the bathroom countertop.  You stare at that pile and wonder why you keep avoiding it.  Because there’s failure in that pile, of course, but you don’t say or think that, just clean around it.  You feel a bit exhausted at the end of the day and defeated that you do not now live in Better Homes and Gardens.

It doesn’t have to go like that.   It doesn’t have to be any of that.  It can be all of that, but let go of the last agony, the imperfect cap on good effort and good energy spent.   I feel all intention right now.  I feel all big things and bold horizons.  I feel caffeinated and unrealistic.  But I feel!

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