I thought I had my shit together.
I was wrong.
While the end of this section of my life is about to end and start anew I feel as though my body is moving a few seconds too slow for my mind. No, this isn’t an attempt to regain past athletic feats but trying to not lose me. Spending time staring out of windows at home with viewpoints of (finally) melting snow, brown grass, and a familiar street with a far off window displaying a single strand of oversized red Christmas lights without a thought, and suddenly too many.
Bad thoughts, cashing out on the society as I know it with student loans due, being a role model at work, and hugging my kids despite trying to bang out a 1,000 word missive on Gauguin’s The Swineherd, Brittany (despite not being much of an art lover it’s a pretty kick ass painting). No more marriage, no more begging for affection when its needed, just taking a small roll and living off skills acquired whether they be academic or degenerate.
Feeling numb when elation should be flowing, that piece of paper which cuts through the glass ceiling is reachable like the cap and gown in an UPS box sitting under my bed. It hurts the soul to feel like there’s no one in the world that can touch this grey then be expected to man up and stop pouting and move on with life. It could be labeled depression, but the feeling isn’t down, it’s stuck in neutral like a blown engine that looks perfectly fine but has a few frayed wires that need connecting. Those wires show the abuse of overuse, too much thinking and not enough doing. Conspiracies versus giving into trust. Creating stories when there isn’t one to tell.
I blame no one but myself for this and I know this feeling is one that will come back as it does sporadically even after moving on to the suit and tie phase that I would have hit several years ago if I didn’t turn mush brained. But, my solid core will see this through I just need to put down my imagination for a few moments at a time and let things read as they are presented versus fearing the worst.