Posted by: scintillatingspeck | November 12, 2012


Doing anything today felt like struggling through sludge.  Just writing a few sentences right now feels difficult.  I’m forcing myself to write, though, unwilling to let go of whatever momentum I have.  What’s the alternative?  I observe myself; the desire to be numb is strong.  The desire to flee my mind and body is undeniable.  I will face into it instead.  I will not compulsively surf the web, fruitlessly searching for… what?  What is it I keep looking for?  Answers?  A feeling of connection?  A glimmer of love?

I sit quietly and pay attention to my body and what it has to tell me.  Poor, maligned body, too often ignored or reviled: what do you want to say?  My forehead hurts from being wrinkled up.  My stomach aches from being fed food that was only a hasty afterthought.  I have bad menstrual cramps.  I’m dizzy and tired.  And in the midst of all that bodily cacophony, there is an ever-present heart ache, a maelstrom threatening to suck me down.

I guess it’s no wonder I feel so useless today.

Wait, what was my old trick?  My numbered list, to give me the illusion of structure and control?  Quick, before I submerge.

Stuff I accomplished today

  1. I got myself and Lily dressed and fed and out of the house.
  2. Brought Lily to a playdate and to our weekly Whole Life Learners gathering at Groff Park.
  3. Responded to some emails.
  4. Connected with some online friends.
  5. Attempted to track down a book by Ken Wilber without success (the library was closed).
  6. Got Lily to bed.

Okay, that didn’t help in the least.  All I can think is, that’s all you did?

What is this fixation on quantifying what I’ve accomplished?  Isn’t it enough that I got out of bed at all, that I made sure the child was safe and fed and had a chance to play?  Who am I pleading with?

What do I really wish I had done today?

I wish I had gone to the river and jumped in; I wish the cold water could have jolted me out of this state.

I wish I could have brought Lily to my parents and left her with them, so I could not worry so much about being so damned self-absorbed, constantly thinking and aching, instead of doing good little mommy things.

I wish I had had someone to sit beside me companionably, with a cup of tea, for hours of conversation, you know, the kind of conversation that feels like time has stopped, with so much to say and hear, such understanding and alignment, and for a bit the world just makes more sense.





  1. Jen I so honor you and your writing.

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