Maybe I'm just not a real person yet
You know how honey is so thick and sticky? It moves slowly - reluctant and languid - some still clinging to the edges of spoon, as if not really wanting to reach its final destination.
That is how today feels. Heavy. Everything feels like a great feat and, like honey, I am holding on to the edges. Simple things we normally do without a thought - like washing ONE dish, or putting on socks - right now they seem like the most arduous tasks in the world.
My default is self-blame, self-doubt, quickly turning in to self-loathing. What am I doing wrong? Why do I keep coming back to this place? How does everyone else seem to keep it together, day after day after day? Maybe I'm just not a real person yet.
Buzzing in my memories of just a few days ago is this girl full of light and boundless energy, high spirits, excited to be alive and full of enthusiasm and hope. Who was that? Today I can't even muster the energy to get myself to a yoga class.
Like the honey leaving the jar, I move slow today. I don't like the thought of aggressively shaking it, squeezing, and using force. That approach doesn't seem to work for me anymore. And though there is not a lot of movement, at least there is some. If we are trudging forward, there is still hope. Even if it feels heavy. So today, I will just let myself drip.
and that is all.