I feel like I need a break. But from what I wonder?
From unemployment and not-working? From job hunting and the hope and disappointment it offers?
From writing, or rather not-writing? From the expectations I place on myself and guilt I feel when I never ever meet them?
From social media in all of its addictive splendour and soul-destroying disregard? From the desire to know everything about anything to news fatigue and information overload?
From book reviewing? I complain enough about it that it would make sense to quit. But who am I then? What’s left in my life that identifies or defines me in some distinct way? What else do I currently do?
From trying to be healthier and failing? Again and again. Not losing weight when I feel I should be? Not exercising when I tell myself I’ll start?
From trying to please others but knowing you’ll never be unconditionally accepted or appreciated until you feel that way about yourself?
From being such a misery guts? All. Of. The. Time. Or from wondering where your old sense of joy, hope and resilience went?
I have so few commitments and yet any I have feel burdensome. Overwhelming.
It occurs to me that what I’m really needing a break from is me* but I’m not sure how to do that?
Anyhoo… onward and upward. As you were etc etc…
* Not to mention my expectations of me! And I’m not even requiring perfection. Just… some effort.