My lovely morning was interrupted by reality. I stared into my cup. The tea was almost gone which meant I had to get up and get ready for work. It meant I had to turn off the tv and get ready for work.
Regardless, I kept the tv on as I got ready, still immersed in a world not my own. I continued to watch a life I didn’t lead, think about problems I didn’t have, and listen to friends that weren’t mine. And when I was finally ready to go, I had to turn that off.
I don’t confuse reality with fiction. That’s never been my problem. But even before I turned off the tv, I felt… empty? Heavy? Sad? And I knew, I know, that this day will be hell.
It won’t be hell in the horrible-things-are-happening-I-can’t-catch-my-breath way. It will just be lifeless. And as I got ready, I ran through my day in my head and thought about how, through every hour of work, through every meeting, I will just be waiting for the day to end. So I can come back to my house and turn on the tv again.
Everything feels overwhelming, but not in the stressful sense. It’s more like I feel so defeated and slow and hopeless. This kind of overwhelming is not the kind of overwhelming that makes you jittery and makes you run around like a chicken with your head chopped off. This kind of overwhelming just makes me sigh deeply, hang my head, and slowly wade through the mud that’s made its way up to my knees. I just trudge forward.
I don’t even have anything else to say. I don’t have a point. My brain… it’s slow. So slow. I barely have thoughts. Man. I have three or four one on one meetings today. And I’m going to have to lead the conversation in every one of them. I just don’t have the energy for this.
How am I supposed to do this?
I wish life let you pause. But I have to trudge forward.