confession: monday was a restless day. monday i couldn’t sit still in the restlessness and went out to do i can’t remember what and parked my car in the shade toward the back of a shopping center parking lot next to another car parked in the shade. i sat in my parked car, looking over at the car parked next to mine, and realized that the man sleeping in his car next to mine was homeless. everything he owned was stuffed into four large black garbage bags, the way one packs hastily in the middle of the night or when the police arrive with an eviction notice. suddenly, i felt less restless and more grateful for whatever feeling arises beneath my restlessness that i want to avoid feeling.
confession: tuesday was a productive day, a focused day, a non-restless day.
confession: wednesday is another restless day. i want to run away. if i didn’t already have a flight reservation to jet to the west coast on saturday morning, i would have gotten in the car and driven toward florida, aching for the beach. instead, i sat still. i waited for the feeling to arise that waits behind the restlessness.
confession: i feel guilty that my life is easier than a lot of other people’s lives. then i remember how hard i’ve worked for this easy life and how little guilt helps anyone.
confession: i texted her on monday afternoon, after promising myself that i wouldn’t text her except in case of an emergency. monday afternoon wasn’t an emergency. she didn’t text back. i don’t regret texting her. i regret the impulse to relive the past that prompted the text message.
confession: i canceled as much as i could this week which means i canceled almost everything except a doctor’s appointment that took five years for me to schedule.
confession: i’ve shown up as best i can for other people, because showing up for others helps me forget my little restless self.
confession: i’m reading two books s-l-o-w-l-y. i’m saturating my consciousness with every line of each of these books whenever i can pause the restlessness for twenty minutes of reading.
confession: with all this restlessness and craving for escape, happiness is still present. happiness is becoming a habitual companion.
confession: yesterday i had a flash of insight indicating the depth of his craziness and the extent of mine for choosing to get involved with him. i’m gratefully sane again. there ain’t no joy in crazy. manic highs and lows perpetuate the crazy, but there ain’t no joy in that.
confession: a friend of mine remembered what brings him joy on monday night. i remind myself of my joy-infusers each day. what brings you joy? (whatever is on that list, please begin living it.)