No one lives life perfectly. And I wish I could keep grace under pressure the way I was able to a mere few months ago. It’s so odd. My body is always tired. But it’s hard for me to sleep when I need to. Or I fall asleep unexpectedly when I shouldn’t. My mind is tired, but it never rests. Thoughts keep racing. I either have too many that I’m unable to process, or I have none and initial thoughts dissipate before they fully form. Coffee makes me jittery, not alert. I constantly want to sleep and unload. But I can’t because I have too much to do. But I find it getting harder to do things. Where is my focus? Where is my mind? Where is my energy? Exercise generally gives me energy, but my daily battle with food saps me of self control.
The end is actually almost here. But all I see are so many loose ends that I stand here immobilized and uncertain.
I need space. Open space. It needs to stop raining. It needs to be dry so I can lay in the grass and process everything. I feel closed in right now. Claustrophobic. Searching for empty spaces. I can’t find any. And I feel ready to burst.