Maybe you have felt this way, too.

Especially since the start of January, I have felt as though I’ve been in a state of anxious readiness to do something. To do what? I’m not sure.

Is it to write something to share with others? To journal and reflect on something in private? To continue a marathon project of transcribing old journals? To do something for my clients? To do something to get new clients? To reach out to a neighbor? To clean and declutter something? To read a book? To go for a walk? To prepare something for the kids to eat when they come home? To research something or other? To make myself useful in some way to my community? To take some action in support of some value? To be of service to some cause? To fight some injustice? To read the news? To boycott something? To boycott the news? To plan something? To pick up my old violin and try playing it again? To pick up the guitar and try playing it again? To practice something on the piano? To scrub a toilet? To back something up on my laptop? To respond to an email? To update something that needs updating? To call my parents? To call my sister? To call a friend? To listen to a guided meditation? To listen to music? To take a nap? To draw a hot bath in the middle of the day because I’m cold? To sit outside on our little patio and absorb some Vitamin D and wait for hummingbirds? To brush the cats? To scoop their litter box? To check the mail? To vacuum? To eat?

As I cycle through various possibilities, various parts chime in with various thoughts and judgments: Why are you not doing anything yet? Why are you unmotivated? Why are you not busy? Why are you wasting this time? Is it the news? Is it the weird post-flu sinus pressure thing in the left half of your face? Is it worry about your in-laws? Are you still burnt out or something? Is it parenting? Is it therapy? Is it the patriarchy? Is it capitalism? Is it racism? Is it the climate crisis? Is it the state of democracy? Is it just you? Is it that you still can’t find any new glasses? Are you just too cold? Where is your sense of purpose? Aren’t you supposed to be fully in tune with what you want? Why are you hesitating? What are you afraid of? Who are you afraid of? What are you doing with your life? What are you waiting for? Why are you still not doing anything?

In the end, I am paralyzed.

I have the vague sense that I am somehow constantly conserving my energy, as if I have a faulty battery that doesn’t hold a charge anymore or drains with alarming speed when life requires me to be “on.” I am on my lowest brightness setting, just bright enough to see. I wonder if I have too many hidden and unnecessary processes churning in the background, beneath the surface of my conscious awareness. Or if it’s simply my body, busy with the effort of maintaining physical and psychological homeostasis. Or if entropy is slowly claiming victory over the world, and therefore my life.

With some effort, I locate a kind voice within that reminds me: Yes, to all of the above. It is okay to be here, just breathing. It is okay to feel what you feel until you feel something a little different, and then you will do something a little different. The tide is always turning. Take your time. Bide your time. I’m right here.

In time, I stretch. I blow my nose, again. I begin to write, and as I do, I begin to feel just a little bit more like myself.