A Jumble of Thoughts

February

In the parking lot, the fallen leaves flew around in that strangely sad afternoon light with it's detached indifference. I felt tired. Tired of thinking, tired of being myself, tired of the slight heaviness that weighed upon my heart in a constant throbbing ache, tired of how the ache rose up to my throat, tired of how I had absolutely no reason to cry and how I couldn't cry and how I wish I could. The leaves flew around me, with a freedom and abundance I didn't possess. The crows cawed at the dimming of the light as they returned home. I thought of how it was a lovely spring afternoon, or would be,  if a cuckoo would sing in that moment. It was spring after all. Here and there in the city the palash and the krishnachuras flamed their defiant reds against the greys. I wanted to participate. I wanted to feel the fire in my heart, not this weary heaviness. I didn't want to be sad.

There are things I want to do but I keep freezing, distracting myself, going to bed guilty for the things not done.  I wish I knew how to make myself work. Is there a button you press? Or a magic phrase you say? Everything I try returns with an error message. Systems dysfunctional. Human unproductive. Meanwhile time ticks on, and I just don't know what to start, and where, and fear builds up, and despair. And fear and yearning and disappointment all add up to that lump on my throat I don't want to remember. 

(Blank pages flicker. Loop of waking, work, doom-scrolling, bad sleep and repeat. Work isn't that bad, to be honest, but mainly because of food and people. There's a pile of examination script checking, slow at first, picking speed in the middle and then a collapse. Burn-out. But you aren't allowed to. Where did the month go?) 

March

I am about 98% sure that 'jumble' isn't a collective noun. Just imagine a scrawl of raggedy thoughts all crowding around a traffic intersection, struggling to get out. Is scrawl a collective noun? Oh wow, I just had a phone call and forgot what I was going to say. Absolute Kubla Khan moment, except I wasn't building a palace. Or a poem. I wasn't building anything at all, which is why this is a blog and not a book.

Photo by ming 郝 via pexels.com

March has gone like February so far, but I'm trying to change? Worked out this evening and felt rather good. Now I'm writing. It's rubbish, of course, but hey... thought jumble aloud, right?

I have a couple of squiggling thoughts. I tried to be helpful, to answer questions, offer reassurances, but it all got too much because it never stops, so I did. I suppose this is my AITA moment. Well guess what? I'm exhausted, this isn't my job, and Google is free. So I think, what I'm trying to say to myself (because even at burn-out point, the thought of being impolite bothers me) is that it's okay to say no. And if they don't listen, it's okay to not say anything more. NTA, I think.

The other thought is this. People are just people. And when you work together sometimes things go wrong and sometimes they go right and people get upset or happy or stressed and all of that because there are a million deadlines breathing down everybody's neck but on some rare days you can get away from all of that. On some days, there's just laughter and camaraderie. On some days, people are just people.

This has been a good evening. And you never know, might even sleep early tonight. Wake up and meditate. Here's a toast to good days and memories.🍸 

Here's where to find me. Cheers.