Slippage

: a movement downward: an act of moving into a lower or worse condition or state

Well, that about sums things up at the moment. Not feeling the exhiliration of cold weather or positive vibes at home. Had a terrible night of sleep, rocked again by random pain. Worry keeps that big ugly door to depression ajar too …

I feel so strongly that I am getting message after message to end this job. It is literally breaking me down. Can I recover ? When will it be a decision made too late ?  I want to think there is this other life that awaits me after this one, but this morning, on little sleep, I am instead full of doubt. At what price am I ignoring all of these obvious signs ? I feel paralyzed to make any change.

I feel like every box I open is empty. My creativity is sluggish at best, my job is not fulfilling me on really any level and home is no longer a sanctuary. Everything feels grey and tired and heavy. My physical self is stressed and dragging my spirit down right along with it.

Drawing on the tarot cards is feeling like a dead-end road too. Nothing feels hopeful. While I am not spiraling (yet) , I feel dangerously close to slipping onto the track that will send me descending so rapidly I cannot catch myself. Some days I feel like giving up.

When I was younger I used to imagine that we had control of our life force. So much so, that I always thought if we ever just let go, we would slip away. I’m not describing this right. I mean that our will to live is strong, but in a world that relies on balance, our will NOT to live is equally strong. It felt like a very conscious choice we made every moment. I remember thinking this as I teetered on the edge of wanting desperately to live. I have known those other moments. The moments when I am filled with discouragement, filled with hopelessness, void of any enthusiasm for the future. I know that place. I feel tired because my faith is weak that I can make meaningful changes.

Right now I feel like I am looking for a way out.I’m looking for someone to rescue me. Or maybe just validate me. And that is an evil place. I started this year with the notion that validation was a word, a concept, I needed to leave behind. It does not serve me well. No one can save me except me.

If I am to survive, I need to fill at least one box. I need somewhere I can open into that isn’t empty. I need to be filled with something besides worry. I can’t look to anyone else for that. Fill the fucking box, Bonnie. Fill A fucking box. Pick one. Choose one. Fill one.