laughing tears upon my pillow
Belated: I'm so glad we have a Latina court justice in, and doubly proud she is Puerto-Rican. Viva boricua!
I feel so strangely detached from everything lately. I'm trying to manage my time better, and for right now it's working, but I keep feeling like I'm just an inch away from slipping right back into the pit again. I feel like Sisyphus and the boulder, going through endless and pointless repetitions.
When I get to feeling like this, I have this strange fear of going into depression. It feels similar to what I'd imagine depression can feel like: the sense of trapped hopelessness, the withdrawal, and my own coping mechanisms for stress involve me pushing away anything that makes me feel stressed out, letting the problems pile up. Most of all, I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything fast enough. I would like so much to do something huge right now. I'd like something to happen to sweep me away and keep me busy anywhere else. That's the other part of it: I get to feeling that I'd kill to get out of here.
Beautiful Things:
The iridescence on the film of a bubble
The delicate shadow under the eyelashes
A butterfly landing nearby and flexing its wings
The smooth hollow of an acorn cup
The grain and gloss of pure polished wood, undyed, unpainted
The way the baby walks, a tiny thing toddling along on stumbling feet
I have a basic Christmas shopping list all put together for this year, so soon I shall be experiencing the Yuletide shopping magic. Joy of joys. I actually like giving people things- I love giving people things. I just hate all the organizing I need to do to make sure I have all these presents ready in time. I would make a very lousy Santa Claus.
I feel so strangely detached from everything lately. I'm trying to manage my time better, and for right now it's working, but I keep feeling like I'm just an inch away from slipping right back into the pit again. I feel like Sisyphus and the boulder, going through endless and pointless repetitions.
When I get to feeling like this, I have this strange fear of going into depression. It feels similar to what I'd imagine depression can feel like: the sense of trapped hopelessness, the withdrawal, and my own coping mechanisms for stress involve me pushing away anything that makes me feel stressed out, letting the problems pile up. Most of all, I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything fast enough. I would like so much to do something huge right now. I'd like something to happen to sweep me away and keep me busy anywhere else. That's the other part of it: I get to feeling that I'd kill to get out of here.
Beautiful Things:
The iridescence on the film of a bubble
The delicate shadow under the eyelashes
A butterfly landing nearby and flexing its wings
The smooth hollow of an acorn cup
The grain and gloss of pure polished wood, undyed, unpainted
The way the baby walks, a tiny thing toddling along on stumbling feet
I have a basic Christmas shopping list all put together for this year, so soon I shall be experiencing the Yuletide shopping magic. Joy of joys. I actually like giving people things- I love giving people things. I just hate all the organizing I need to do to make sure I have all these presents ready in time. I would make a very lousy Santa Claus.