YOU GUYS. Hi. I’ve missed you.
I could give you 100 excuses for not writing here—but the fact of the matter is, I’m now on the third season of The Americans, so let’s be real. Time is in my life, I just haven’t used it very well.
The thing is I’ve been in a funk lately. I feel deflated—work-wise, life-wise, emotionally, physically, creatively, spiritually.
I’m in this place where I feel like I’m just going through the motions, rushing through the day and waking up to the next one. I feel buried in house to-do’s at all times.
And I feel like I’ve abandoned something essential.
Here are some of the things I think when I’m in a rut like this:
- Everyone is killing it and has their shit totally together but me.
- My education was wasted on me.
- I’ll never be brave enough, smart enough or dedicated enough to make what I want to happen, happen.
Tracing the path to how I got here seems like a fruitless endeavor. I’m interested in how we get out.
How do you get out?
One day, I left the boys and the house and went for a hike with a friend.
One day, I had an extra long lunch with another friend.
I keep looking for the right book. The one that will say all the right things. (Any ideas?)
But of course I have been avoiding the one thing I need most: Writing.
I read this from Jennifer Egan in Brain Pickings last week:
When I’m not writing I feel an awareness that something’s missing. If I go a long time, it becomes worse. I become depressed. There’s something vital that’s not happening. A certain slow damage starts to occur. I can coast along awhile without it, but then my limbs go numb. Something bad is happening to me, and I know it. The longer I wait, the harder it is to start again.
James has been sleeping until 7 a.m. I can’t really explain how miraculous this feels after a year plus of obsessing about sleeping and longing to be well rested. I AM WELL RESTED. I am sleeping for 9 and sometimes 10 hours a night.
It’s hard to think about setting an alarm. I feel like I deserve to sleep and sleep and sleep.
But this morning I couldn’t. At 5:45 I turned over. And here I am with my own quiet, not brain-exhausted-end-of-the-day, hour. (Plus I promised Dan one blog post this month and I gotta get that guy off my back.)
I wonder why it’s easiest to avoid the things we need most. They seem so hard sometimes. So daunting. So rife with the potential for failure.
But in the end, those very things–whatever they might be–are the only way out. Right?
What do you do dear friends? To find your way back to yourself?
P.S. Listen to Dear Sugar: How do I find the courage to be my own guide