I'm trying something. Something new. New, but not new. Different. I need to get them out.
Thoughts, words, fears, questions, doubts, hopes...
They create noise, confusion; take energy, attention.
Heart starts to pound, race.
I can't just let them out. Even typing isn't quite fast enough. Edit. Edit. Edit. Doesn't sound right. Not quite right. Wrong words.
I'm not doing what I should be doing. Should. Should. Should. Guilt. Shame.
I should be...
Instead I'm here.
I'm here to write. To release it. To set it down so that I can let it go. Breathe. Slow down. Be.
I have a list.
I should have gone to the gym.
I should have done laundry.
I should be reading for this week.
I did the other two things on the list.
Two out of five ain't bad...
Why doesn't feel good?
I'm already worried about tomorrow's list.
Only four things, but one in particular is daunting.
Writing assignments - two of them.
Seems a bit ironic that writing then should be so different than writing now.
But it is.
Not free.
Too much pressure.
Why?
Short, honest, to the point. That's all they want.
Not all... They require thought. Or at the very least encourage it.
The problem: once I start, it's very hard to stop. I don't ever really stop. Just different directions. Always going, jumping, darting, circling. Deeper and deeper.
To be thoughtful is generally considered good.
I mean it when I say I think too much though.
It can be crippling.
Lost in the labyrinth.
Unable to organize, order, prune.
What is valuable, invaluable, important, relevant?
I interviewed at two sites.
Neither seemed the perfect fit.
And yet...
As I searched for others to which to apply, I found my options quite limited.
I decided on two, but only half-heartedly.
I returned to the others.
I've decided to settle, in effect.
I don't have the heart to keep searching.
I'm afraid.
I don't have the heart, or the energy, and soon it will be too late and instead of even having a choice, I will have none.
I'm going to pray and call.
It both feels good and not.
It feels good in a sense to have decided to stop and just pursue something, not because it's perfect, but because it can work and be quite valuable.
It doesn't, because I just can't muster the will to keep searching, and in essence I know that I'm throwing in the towel.
God is good...
There's more to come.
But for now, my roommates have saved me from myself.
