Just Slightly Off
For the past few weeks my feelings have danced all over the place. From sitting blankly in a room full of people wishing I could weep in peace to carefree dancing in the shop with the morning sun warming my face. My feelings have reminded me that they live to change.
And while I can blame feeling off on the constant change of feelings I believe there is something a bit deeper at play.
I haven’t felt like myself for a while now. Day by day the after glow of making it through the hardest season of my life is fading. I’m in a reality where what was shiny and new is now mundane and gray.
There is a desire to live in a space where there is the expectation of something new and exciting. Even when life was in shambles there was still an underlying sense of hope. However, right now, a lot of exciting things came to an abrupt end and even the hope of something new is gone. Also the weather is dreary, the sun is down by 5 pm, and it was too dry to have a super colorful fall. It’s official I am in a funk.
So everything is just slightly off.
Currently I am trying to force Christmas cheer down my throat with a Holiday Christmas drink (Pettaway Coffee, drink local coffee duh!) and jazzy Christmas music. I’m hoping that the nostalgic Christmas feeling will bring a spark of joy that sets my world back in balance. But this
All I can say is that after taking hit after hit in a span of 365(ish) days it isn’t too hard to feel as though I have lost myself.
In a way I have. The me of last year had a very different idea of what the current year would look like. I mean even the me of two weeks ago thought life would be different. And each time there was a major (or minor) change in what I considered the probable next step in life to be happened I had to pivot. And each pivot means a change in who I am as I grow and develop.
Everything wants me to tie this thought in a bow and we can all walk away feeling as though we learned something profound. Instead, I am going ot leave it feeling slightly off and unfinished… I guess the rest is still unwritten (time to listen to some Natasha Bedingfield).