What happened.

Have you ever been so down that you just can’t seem to function? In that place, even breathing is hard. I’ve been there lately.

This explains the downfall in posts, obviously. It’s hard to find a point of interest in your life when most things make you cry. I’m not vying for sympathy, but trying to explain how frustrating it can be.

Yes, there were catalysts to this level of stress, and there were a lot more things that were waiting to surface as well. So when the current difficulties occurred, the latent pain broke free of it’s container. This is a good thing in the long run if I can face it all, but everything at once is overwhelming.

So I apologize for my lack here on this blog, and I hope that you will stick with me. I’m working on moving forward, and this includes sharing my interests and opinions, as well as my heart here. Just scrounging for some hope. Thanks for understanding.

Where I am.

I’m a little out of rhythm. Out of rhythm of writing, yes, but out of rhythm of living, too. I guess that’s what being sick is.

Last week I finally took the initiative and dove into The Great Purge. I was fierce and fast and exceedingly effective. I was on my way to having it all taken care of likely within the week. But then.

I hate that so often it is when you are burning bright and really accomplishing something that you are struck down physically. Why must that be? After years of not getting The Great Purge done, I’m finally motivated and wholly committed to it’s completion in short order. Instead I’m weak and in bed with a chesty cough.

I don’t mind being reminded to slow down and relax now and then, but this time it’s more like I’m being mocked. You’re getting something monumental done? Mu-ah-hahaha, now I have you! *Bang!* Struck down and doing nothing.

The process of The Great Purge is a difficult one in places. It’s fantastic to finally have access to all my things after all these years, and to ruthlessly sort and mostly purge. However, when I get to the items that bring up memories lost, of a self that is no more, it can become emotional. There is no better way to realize how we modify our memories than to go through this process. It’s strange, it’s difficult, and sometimes it’s wonderful.

As I lay here in bed recovering, pining to be working again, I most of all cannot wait to have less, and to have that little bit completely organized. To me that is freedom.

Crash landing.

Today started constructive and educational and effective. I was ready to conquer, light of spirit. I had just finished at an appointment, that of course went smashingly, and was on to my next thing when suddenly… my body simply stopped. It said, “enough is enough,” and sneered at me as it broke down right there in the road.

At first I was simply flustered and thought, “I can fix this.” I then tried a jump start – a little energy food. But still it wouldn’t even turn over. Then I thought back and the proverbial light went on.

O-ooh. When it was on empty and I pushed through to have that wonderful conversation a couple weeks ago, then never did fill up properly on a complete night’s sleep… that was a bad idea? Doing that pretty much every night since, that was also a bad idea? Not taking heed when it sent a warning with a migraine wasn’t the right thing? Going all day with gusto on Sunday when I finally could have been sleeping, even that wasn’t smart? Hmm. Well, good to know.

Sadly, however, it is too late. Having barely managed to tow myself home, I am lying on my bed completely spent, and I just slept for quite a few hours. Lovely conversations with a lovelier man is such a warming idea, but… maybe a little restraint is now in order. (Damn.)

One thing I know... tomorrow I'm going to be an Energizer bunny on speed. Might make for some interesting posts!