I am embarrassed by myself. By all the begin again-ings. By the belief(s) that come that I am ready now. That I know what I am doing.
I don’t know what I am doing.
When people say they don’t feel like an adult. I do feel like an adult. Just a very inept one. Maybe I should be grateful for the role models I had to make it clear to me that one can be an adult while still being deeply flawed.
This morning I put a block on all my social media. I made some tea and lay on the sofa staring out the window, through the falling snow, at the six crows in the treetop across the road.
I noticed the tension in my jaw.
Fatigue has taught me that tension is a habit of the body as much as it is a habit of the mind. I knew this before in a theoretical way. But now I know it. I’ve noticed that when something sets off anger in me now, I am too fatigued to catch myself from lashing out. Not in a “I’m fed up” kind of way – but in the sense that my body is just too worn to negotiate the feelings.
I am thoroughly permeable.
I think this an interesting place to be. It’s certainly a place of growth: meeting myself head-on in all my ugliness and good intentions – and in the stillness.
For all my not-knowing, God spare the person who tries to tell me what to do right now. I am a two-year-old, intent and frustrated.
I’ll show you when I’ve figured it out.
white sky unbroken
no sundial shadows
black crows puff themselves
settling into the pause
"...my body is just too worn to negotiate the feelings."
Beautifully stated. It's self-knowledge, and thus wisdom, to recognize when that happens and to refrain from lashing out.
I get this. And then the body gets too tired to release the tension, and mind and body almost can't move. I need to go for a walk in the sun. ❤️