Day 22 of my 100-day writing project. Breathing.
I think I'm back in the year 2016. Everything has shifted and yet nothing really has. Things get better and yet they don't, entirely. Every week is a new lesson in humility, a new discovery about myself. The last three days have been one of the worst for me mentally. I won't say what it is, but I've tried to understand 'why' it's happening. I don't have an answer. My chest flutters. My stomach roils. I want to take a break from everything. From everyone. It's been five years and it's all back in full force. The good thing now is that I'm in full-fledged therapy. I'm able to recognise patterns and problems. I know that I'm getting better. I know that I will.
But I'm also in the midst of so many things that I don't know which of it I'd like to talk about. Is it the everyday freelancing, the meetings, the new gig applications, the courses that I've enrolled for or the million new ideas I get? The volunteering I do, or the network I've built? Do I want to talk about the short stories I'm writing quietly in my Microsoft Word document, or the poems that I never publish here because they're under consideration? The meditations, the workouts, the habits I've built or the patterns I'm trying to break? I read. I write. I paint. I go on long walks to ruminate.
But I need a break from it all. It's been exhausting.
I'm going to simply breathe this weekend.
Today I'm not going to ask you to contribute to my writing. The link is below. Choose what you'd like to do. But thank you for reading. If not a solution, the writing brings me solace. I'm grateful for it.