people

When I consider that it's unlikely that what I'm going
to say will be amazing, I pay more attention to how I
say it. Like, right now I'm saying it from bed, in
the form of large white letters against a completely
black screen, with a pint of tea in my belly and a cat
at my feet.

For those of you who aren't familiar with this
aesthetic, it might be hard to imagine, but it's a
combination that could never fail to make me happy.

But the fact is, I'm tired, and somewhat anxious.
Anxious about being tired; for, what if I were to stay
this tired forever? And tired from being anxious.

How does a person break out of this sort of feedback
loop? I feel like I need to take slow steps towards
recovery, like the proverbial learning to walk again.
As it is, I feel like I've been larded with effort:
the effort to smile, the effort to speak, the effort
to work, and so forth and so on.

How did this happen? I suspect I have not had or
maintained clear boundaries about my energy
expenditure; I've allowed myself to be overextended,
not in any one particular dimension of life, but in
many. And of course I take responsibility for the
demands placed on my time and energy: I'm the one who
says "yes" or "OK" to too much.

So, to refresh, but also, I hope, to learn! Because
otherwise, how many more days will go by walking burnt
out? How much time in my life have I already spent in
this mode? -- maybe then I didn't know any better.

What do I say "yes" to? Perhaps more to the point, I
tire myself out by repeating phrases, ideas, or
actions that I haven't learned to say "no" to; that I
don't understand or appreciate; and perhaps I imagine
that if I work harder, if I think harder, or if I feel
more intensely, I will either adjust or manage to
bring about some change.

At these times, I seem to neglect what I know about
what makes an "interface", in other words, what makes
change of any sort possible.

Viewed positively, it might be that enough repetition
does bring about an eventual crisis wherein something
happens: but this crisis is taxing and the whole
process seems inefficient. An analysis in terms of
the "productive crisis" neglects all the other
possible paths.

When hesitant feelings nag at me, why do I push them
aside? Or, why do I push through emotional
underbrush, this difficult-feeling stuff, ignoring a
perfectly reasonable path?

Perhaps it's just because the path goes in a different
direction. Or perhaps I've built up an immunity to
listening to aspects of my emotional self, over time,
some sort of polarizing filter that blocks out certain
possibilities that, if I tried them, I'd find most
salutory.

Well, I wonder now -- if the notion of "balance" isn't
itself suspect, since it is what allows these giant
towers to be erected. They can't last.