I want to be here writing, but my heart is heavy. There is no one particular thing, rather I think it is the accumulation of many little things. I’ve been unplugging and trying to reclaim my footing. Rather than recharging I find the tokens of technology evermore loathsome. Blinking red lights, spinning wheels, junk mail and hollow missives.
I want engagement and promise. The lapping of this relationship and that striking one moment as profound and the next as something completely untrustworthy exhausts me. Who to trust, where to pause? I know certain threats, but others startle and confound me. I try to balance the emotions, to see past one thing and focus on another. I do it all to create calm and safety for myself and my family. And still the time goes by, the girls grow the deadlines come and another night passes without the moments I had hoped to have.
It is mine to repair, my duty to reclaim, reserve and refuse, but I am feeling weak and I know it, so I just turn away.
Here, at this very moment, I can touch the bit of will that can help me pull myself out, but lately it’s only a touch, not a grasp. I’m hoping it is the deconstruction before new growth. Hoping, hoping hoping.