Funny, that

Sometimes I get up in the morning and it feels like I'm being attacked by mess. Inside the house, outside the house, in my life, in my brain, everywhere, all the time, MESS!! It's like a tidal wave appears, pushing me down and thundering overhead, killing all hope and energy, and I know I'm not going to survive it, can't, it's too big. This doesn't happen every day, but often enough that it's not unusual, and mostly it happens in that early-morning sleepy state when I still can't focus on anything properly. Panic hits and I want to collapse in a whimpering heap. But I haven't done that yet and probably won't. It's just a temporary thing, a fleeting moment of horror about all the things I should have done or should be doing, but haven't done and aren't.

The sensible reaction would be to tackle the jobs that need doing, one by one, and keep doing them until they're finished. And sometimes I start to do this. But it doesn't last. I give up after an hour or a day or a week, and instead of making slow progress, I go back to just despairing at the size of the problem. Most days I just mentally shove everything into an imaginary cupboard and push the door closed.

Today is one of those days. And I'm thinking, So? It's Sunday. There are things I should be doing and I'm a lazy cow for not doing them. But it's Sunday and I'll do whatever I want. So.

And tomorrow or the next day or the day after that I'll get up in the morning and suddenly want to collapse because things are falling down or falling apart and everything is a mess and I can't deal with it.

The fact is, I can deal with it. I should deal with it. Dealing with it is what life is about. One thing at a time. Step by step. Baby steps when you can't take bigger ones, and huge great strides when you're getting the hang of it.

I know this in my head, the problem is translating it into action. Funny, that.

And you know the funnier thing? After writing all the above, I put on a CD (Norah Jones, "Come Away With Me") and suddenly feel unaccountably happy and relieved. This little dummy spit has made me feel better. I might even tackle some of those stupid tasks today. It feels like I could.

Being a human, reader. It's so weird. One minute you feel like shit and the next you feel like ... whatever the opposite of shit is.

Happy Sunday to you.