I will avoid writing for two reasons: writer’s block, and an overwhelming amount of feelings.
This is idiotic, considering once I finally sit down to write, usually, I begin to feel better almost immediately.
But, it’s funny the ways various things will affect us without us realizing it.
I’ve been exhausted the last couple of weeks. Just, emotionally overcome and overwhelmed, and I couldn’t figure out why. Timing didn’t make sense. I’ve been scattered, distracted, and bored, and felt it was anxiety, but couldn’t figure out what I was anxious about. Last week, the idea of getting out of bed was untenable. Waking up was impossible. It didn’t make any sense — the time change should’ve been helping.
Sunday, I hung out with a new friend, but couldn’t bring myself to make much eye contact, to say nothing of holding an actual conversation. Then again, we met up around 7 am. No one’s up for talking before coffee. But the point is, I wasn’t feeling my flyest.
Monday morning, I snapped at a few people, only to apologize some time later. A 7-mile run that evening wasn’t even enough to calm the nerves, though it kept them at bay about 2/3 of the way.
Yesterday, it hit me. I’m headed to Texas next week, for work. If it’s been unclear, I hate Texas. It used to be tolerable, but the last eight weeks, my feelings have hit peak contempt.
And I think the closer we get to me having to set foot in that god-forsaken state again (I promise it will BE the last time), the more panicky I become. There aren’t enough slow, deep breaths in the world to keep this at bay.
What has helped, per usual, are my friends. The three in particular who have refrained from trolling me about my dislike for the state (ahem), and who have been especially supportive, have really saved my life.