box of thots

Lately on my days off I am so exhausted I can barely stagger to the Chipotle across the street and back. Seriously, that is my big weekend treat right now. Chipotle. That's not Chipot-hate. It's just a reflection of my complete lack of energy to go hunt down anything more interesting, or spring for delivery when I'm in a $aving season of my life. 

I don't mind being righteously tired after working all week. There isn't much else going on yet, and by the time there is, I'll have reached the second of my two Very Grown Up Financial 2021 Milestones and about a hundred tons of weight will drop off of me and I will adjust my work schedule to allow for more adventure, connection, and creativity. 

But right now, I'm singularly focused and singularly fucking tired

A thing about being this tired: I can't run. I can't run literally and I can't run, figuratively, from the shit I am working through. I'm too tired to even handle much media stimulation, so I'm only on my phone to talk to friends. Okay and maybe to post IG stories, because I am nothing if not the perpetual party latecomer. Mostly I'm spending hours of my days off pinned to my bed, just listening endlessly to music -- and thinking.

There are now volumes worth of introspection bound and shelved in my brain, thanks to COVID. How many hundreds of hours have I spent with dead time, with in-between time, with walking time, and now with bus-riding time and being-too-tired-to-do-anything-else time. So. Much. Thinking. Time. So much self-searching and questioning. So much coming to terms. So much stubborn denial still keeping me stuck. So much feeling and confusion and wanting and wishing and dreaming and planning.

Occasionally these thoughts and feelings are hard. Sometimes they're so hard I cry my way to sleep. Some days the very same thoughts hit me with no force whatsoever. I can hold them up to the light, wincing in expectation of the pain -- but instead they are just neutral facts that for some reason, in that moment, don't hurt, even upon close examination.

I don't know what the difference is, or why sometimes I'm let off easy. I wish I knew. Oh how I wish I knew.

Today was a neutral feeling day. As ever, whether I want to mess with it or not, the Box of Thots appears next me on the bed, rattling itself to get my attention. I can't ignore it. I can't pretend it isn't there. It is the Box of Thots and it will not be dismissed. So with a sigh I pick it up. I barely have to touch it and thot after thot falls out, tethered one to the next, inextricably linked.

But today I could just pull the chain through my hands and it didn't hurt. It didn't sting or burn or cut. It was just a chain of thoughts. Facts. Realities. Feelings. Questions. Lies. Truths. Beliefs. Hopes. Expectations. Dreams. They are still going, because I'm here at home with nothing much to do and the Box knows it. But it's looking like tonight, at the very end of it all, will be a dry pillow.

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