You know how when you’re a kid you look forward to Christmas for weeks with single minded anticipation that borders on obsession? And then the big day comes and then the next day you realize that all the excitement is behind you and all that is left is a month of gray January winter as far as the mind can see?

Yeah. I’m feeling that right now.

On Tuesday evening I got to hang out with one of my favorite authors (an experience that I will be detailing separately once I finish replaying it in my mind on a continuous loop- coming soon, stay tuned). It was an event that I had been looking forward to with great anticipation for weeks. Intense, Advent style anticipation that I struggled to contain: partly because I wanted to seem disaffected and cool, and partly because I was still pinching myself on a daily basis in terror that it was some kind of delusion that was never actually going to materialize and I’d be left wandering in my own tattered fantasy like a latter day Miss Havisham.

It did materialize. It wasn’t a delusion. It was awesome.

And now it’s over.

So very over.

And now for a hangover.

Now I’m struggling with that feeling of post-Christmas disappointment. Sure, the memories are great, but now I only get to look back instead of forward. It had been a great incentive: a reason to stay on task and stay focused- stop obsessing over that invitation and write your book, I would tell myself, you want to have something to talk about.

Or give some thought to how you want to introduce yourself to people so that you sound interesting and confident.

Or don’t like your job? Maybe start looking for a new one.

Or struggling with existential dread? Maybe sit down and actually start working on some of those personal issues you’ve been neglecting all these years.

It was very motivating: both a carrot and a stick. My productivity for July went up by an order of magnitude and I crossed off 90% of the items on my month-long To Do list (I usually consider anything above 70% a ‘good’ month). But now it’s over and I can feel the loss settling into my body like a hangover. My mind is numb and woolly. I didn’t sleep much, just lay quietly in bed thinking of nothing in particular. I failed to dip beneath the surface of consciousness. Now I’m paying for it with a neck so stiff I can hardly turn my head. I tried to write, but caught myself nodding off before reaching the end of the page no matter how much caffeine I imbibed.

So I think it’s ok to take a day and just observe the passing of a well loved tool. As if to underscore this idea, the shoulder strap on my satchel broke this morning. So I’m likewise taking a day to adjust to the idea of a new bag.

Truly the end of an era.

At any rate, I’m still a bit disoriented by this all, but life goes on and I’ll need to find a new point on the horizon to sail towards. In the meantime, I’m doing my best to just keep on keeping on.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on August 2, 2018.

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