There's a place that exists in my mind that is between a dream and reality. It's a perfect place. I watch everything real with my eyes, soak in my surroundings with my senses, and I imagine and dream about something else that's inspired by both. I cannot drift too far left into my imagination or I fail in reality, and I cannot drift too far right into reality without feeling numb and uninspired. It is a constant struggle to find a perfect balance between focused and free. If I dive completely into my imagination and my feelings and thoughts, my writing is at its best, but then I feel like I fail at the rest of life. And if I stand on the diving board, doing nothing...
A few weeks ago, I made some decisions. I decided to focus on my job, my kids, and the list of to-do's that I can never seem to get under long enough to feel any kind of relief. I decided that reality is what matters right now. I have to focus on the practical and that means that my feelings for anyone or anything other than the tasks of each day simply aren't important to me.
I now feel nothing. I can't write and I am not happy like this. Why must I feel everything or nothing? I would rather feel pain than nothing. If you're bleeding, at least you know you're alive.
I have been on an emotional rollercoaster for the last two years and I have experienced a crazy range of emotions. Could I have burned out? Could I be tired of chasing and digging and pondering and feeling? Shouldn't a human being be happy when emotionally stagnant? Why aren't I? When someone asks how I am and I don't even have an emotion to direct me to an answer, why does that bother me?
Fine. Bored. Plain. Uninspired. Blah. Not words that describe me. And yet that's what I would say to someone right now. MEH. I am not even curious about anything right now.
Time to jump down a hole I suppose.
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