It seems I pause a lot.
I don\’t post here regularly, I drop in and out to leave tidbits and partial thoughts.
But when I am not here, I am here … being, working, thinking, agonizing, planning.
My counselor said when last we talked that there was a weariness that she hadn\’t seen in me before.
I can\’t remember, but did I ever tell you about the dream I had a long time ago? It was about a boy, a lovely blond-haired little boy in a too-big cableknit sweater, red, standing on the stairs of what looked like an abandoned house or something as I think of it now. When I asked him if he needed help, his response was something like \’I\’m weary.\’ It struck me because he was so young — too young to know what \’weary\’ meant. But that\’s what he\’d said.
I knew it before my counselor said it, but I hadn\’t been able to put it into words.
I need a pause.
There are things I want to do that I don\’t want to do. Have you ever felt like that?
The kitchen floor needs shaving (we have tile floor, white … and animals … so it is in a constant state of being covered in hair), the rugs need vacuuming and washing, the dishes need scrubbing, there are gophers to fight in the yard, the fish need feeding, the dogs need toileting (since there are openings in the fence, they can\’t go out by themselves and must be leashed), and I have a job that pays the bills that needs to be attended.
There are dishes I want to give away in the upper cabinet. That means climbing up there, pulling them down, having a moment of nauseous nostalgia, packing them up and getting them out of here so I can de-clutter the lower cabinets by moving the things I still want and use occasionally there to make room for the things I use regularly.
There are clothes I\’ve had in bags for several years to go as well. I see myself with all these things in the back of the car as I drive to the downtown location of my faith community to drop it all off. They have a clothes closet and more there.
But then the anxiety kicks in. I\’m back to those times of waking at 1 or 2 in the morning and feeling like I won\’t ever go back to sleep. I was up today at 3:30, despite having taken all four ashwa gummies (two in the afternoon when I felt myself getting very tense and two before bed) yesterday.
I need a pause.
The flies are out so I haven\’t been sitting in the yard. Fly feet give me the creeps.
Scripture has the words
Be anxious for nothing
yet here I am, so tightly wound I might explode into all 10,000 points of light that we are each made of.
I read a great post today and felt better, but I still need that pause.
The pride of accomplishment, the humility of being you. The glory of the door, the reality of the room.from Chris Wiman\’s post, linked above …
I can\’t say why that bit from the post stuck with me, but it did. I don\’t have enough in me to take it apart, but it got me … perhaps another day, when I\’ve un-paused …
I have a lot on my list today, have to work tomorrow too, but after that, a break from being on the computer and likely a break from most things electronic, save the television and my phone to keep my personal email at bay.
I started gaming again. I have three on my tablet and several from Steam on my mini-computer. I\’d paused from my tablet games for a while but it was a good outlet at the end of a long work day. Of late, it\’s felt like an obligation.
I don\’t need more obligations, so I\’ll likely fade away from there. My Steam games are a different story; I don\’t spend enough time with those and will likely do so, after I un-pause.
Oh, and I just bought four books from B&N that should be here by Wednesday — two for me and two for my beloved. So my plan is to turn on some music in the background and read.
Read until I am ready to un-pause.
Read until the anxiety loosens its grip from my shoulders.
Read until the tears fall and turn the front of my shirt two hues darker.
Read until I\’ve put all the 10,000 points of light back where they belong in my body, like a Light Bright.
If you need a pause, I pray you take it. Gather your points of light again and recharge.