My desk never got clear. All day I worked, but no matter how many packets I completed, there always seemed to be more bubbling up from some mysterious payroll spring within the surface of my desk. A part of me was glad to have the distraction, since it helped to prevent me from dwelling upon the complicated fears of being left out, missing out, being left behind that I still couldn’t quite seem to dismiss. In one moment I would be fine. In the next I would be struggling to sit up straight beneath the unbearable weight of… What exactly? I wasn’t sure. Not quite depression, not quite fear, not quite anger: it was somehow like the ghosts of feelings that I hadn’t felt yet. It was a lurking sense of ‘couldness’ that haunted me with all the ‘what ifs’ that I couldn’t ignore.

So I slogged through, keeping my head down and trying to stay on task.

It wasn’t the worst of days: I managed to make some progress on my writing and might even have finished the chapter that I’ve been writing all week. All my goals from the month have been pulled up at the roots practicing the bass, doing my planking exercises, keeping up with my correspondences, reading my books- all of it happening sporadically or not at all: displaced by social engagements and outings that I don’t regret in the least, but I do find myself struggling to feel like I have much control over my own life.

So that’s my struggle of late: a struggle of couldness.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on September 27, 2018.

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