Overthinking has always been a major roadblock for me. I am in my head a lot, thinking about all the scenarios… dreaming and scheming and planning… I get stuck in there, in a perpetual state of preparation.
I burnt the roof of my mouth on pizza that was way too hot
last night. It hurts like a motherf***er.
It’s all raw and tender, some of the skin peeled off… real
I was way too eager to eat. I was hungry, it was late, I worked out right beforehand… Terrible decisions are made when we rush things. (And yes, I exercised and then ate pizza. It was thin crust. Let me live.)
Independence Day had a different meaning for me this year.
When your life is going through drastic changes, holidays
are weird. They just are. Holidays tend to revolve around tradition and family
and friends, and when your family and friend situation is a disaster it tends
to fuck up the tradition part too.
I’m not complaining. It’s honestly fine with me, I’m adjusting to a lot of new “normals” in my life; it’s just part of the territory.
I mean, I guess it’s been weird for a while… but right now
in particular, I feel a little lost. I imagine myself as an astronaut, floating
out in space all alone. No gravity, no sense of direction, no anything… just
me, eerily suspended in a dark, vast nothingness, drifting aimlessly.
Damn. That shit sounds bleak. I promise I’m not depressed.
I’ve written like ten different sentences and I just keep
deleting them. Nothing feels right.
I have a long list on my phone of “blog post ideas.” I add
to it constantly; I hear a quote, or have a thought, and my mind starts spinning
a web of ideas and connections and what *I* want to say about that topic, so I
quickly jot it down before I forget. I have a lot to say.
But this week, it all seems pointless. Forced. Empty.
So I’m just gonna type, with no plan at all, and just see where it goes…
I know that sounds a little crazy. And trust me, it’s taken
a while for me to get to this point. No one experiences pain and immediately
thinks, “Oh good! I’m so glad this is happening!” I’m not that insane.
We normally equate grief with death. I hear “grief” and I picture a widow at her husband’s funeral, dressed in a tasteful black dress and crying quietly, still in shock. She is devastated… he is gone and life doesn’t make sense now. What is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to live in this world without him, ALONE? It isn’t fair; this wasn’t her choice… It’s heartbreaking.
I wonder if
I will ever reach an upper echelon of creativity where my brain thinks beyond song
lyrics and movie quotes… One can hope.
I’m starting to realize that some of you are worried about me. And that is totally understandable… I’m walking a fine line of being vulnerable yet slightly vague. So for those of you who don’t know me very well or don’t know my whole story yet, you are left with questions, trying to fill in the blanks. That is a pretty normal human response; we are curious beings.
So I just want to say, for the record, I AM FINE. Really!