I don’t know what it’s like to stop because, for as far back as I can remember, I have always had something on my mind that needed to get done.
Something has always been pending.
I feel like my brain has never allowed for a moment of nothingness, not truly anyways, and now I really don’t know how to function unless I have a thousand things to do. I don’t know what it’s like not to have a thousand things to do.
And I’m wondering why that is.
I’m sure there is some psychological underpinning but truth be told, I don’t want to explore what it could be (obviously I have my suspicions).
I’ve just become more aware of this need to keep busy as of late, as I’ve grown more and more tired of being busy.
I mean, I’m just always tired.
I’ve been told a bajillion times by a bajillion people that I need to cut some things down, prioritize, minimize – for the life of me I don’t know how. I always feel like I’m behind in something or missing something as it is, how can I possibly cut out more from that?
But I would like to be able to sleep without my brain clicking away on this incessant checklist that just continues to grow. I feel as if I can literally feel the wheels in my brain in constant motion and nowadays it just feels… overwhelming? Frustrating? Something along those lines.
I wonder if I’ll be able to keep up with this as the years continue on.
I’m talking as if I’m 50 and beginning to slow down and I can’t decide if that’s funny, sad, or scary. A little of both I guess.
Anyways, I’m blogging to slow down the wheels some. Allow for my heart rate to drop a little while attempting to grab at some form of internal clarity (or at least a little escape from that ever pending queue).
I’ve thought often of taking a break for 2 weeks – driving down to Galveston, living in a tiny hotel room where I can sleep all day and night, write and paint my heart out, cut myself off from everyone for just a little bit to re-center myself along the sandy walkways and sea breeze, and come back a more whole, a more ready woman.
The problem is, with so much constantly accumulating in the reality of my life with nothing much to show for it at all, I don’t trust myself to come back.
I don’t trust myself to not keep walking until I lose my way and become anonymous…
How bad was that grammar.
I gotta say, I’m thankful. I love way too many people way too dearly to actually disappear like that. It’s just a tempting thought when the wheels that won’t stop turning start to squeak and rust and the maintenance man is on permanent vacation (that bum saw what he was in for and hightailed it outta there before I even realized it).