Down a wormhole?
Maybe I did vanish down a wormhole for a while. It’s been a strange few days.
Basically — I crashed.
I’d been having that fighting-a-cold feeling — which only happens to me when I’m pushing myself too hard, not eating well and not getting enough sleep. I tried to back off, but I was also trying to meet deadlines at work, so I had to keep going. Until 1:30 Friday afternoon, when I gave up, went to bed, and didn’t get out of bed (except for brief forays downstairs for food) until 21 hours later.
Once I finally got up yesterday (Saturday), I took it really easy, sat around all day reading and thinking and being still. I resigned myself to the obvious fact that I wouldn’t be doing my usual Sunday morning long run. I haven’t run for a week now. That’s only the third time this year I haven’t run for a week. The first time was the week Kurt died; the second time was the week of his celebration of life. I guess this was the week that I figured out I can’t do everything and be everything for everyone at once — not if I want there to be a ME who has any sort of life at all from here forward.
I’m going to have to just sit and grieve when I need to. I can’t keep going and pushing all of that to the background. Grief has shown me that I need to give it time and attention, or it will just keep pushing me off a cliff. I’m learning that I don’t much like falling off cliffs or plunging down wormholes.
But I’m a slow learner, it seems. By late this afternoon I was really starting to worry about the biggest of my three work deadlines, and I spent four hours slogging through that tonight. Now it’s midnight, and while I’ve made progress, it’s obvious I won’t get it done tomorrow.
Earlier today I was planning to write something much more philosophical than this, and I still have some ideas that I want to develop. But now is not the time.