Sometimes, I feel like I am suspended over a cavernous yawn of chaos, that it is there, ever-present, just squirming to devour me. I feel like the thread I'm hanging from is more frail than a spider's web. It's a filament of the most fragile material known to nature, and it's stretching to a breaking point, soon, yes very soon.
It's coming in around me, at my peripheral vision now, so close and dark I fear turning my head to look right at it. It's beneath me, and I keep my chin up, though I know it is there. I can see it through the tears I force back. Sometimes it's what they might call depression. Sometimes it's a feeling of dread or overwhelm. Usually it's foreboding unfettered, and after time, it's often unfounded.
This time, however, it seems so tangible, so unavoidable.
Eeek.
What can I do to thwart it? No amount of list making seems to affect it. There's not a prescription to ward it off or fight its infectious jaundicing of my day. It seems that the best in planning (and planning tools) just seems to irritate chaos, to stir it up from the bottom of the pond even more violently.
I clench my fists and brace for it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment