sadness

I find myself wishing I could be sad.

That’s dramatic. Or, rather, true but incomplete.

The whole of it is, I find myself wishing i could be just sad. Rather than Sad, and Anxious.

I mean,  above and beyond my standard baseline level of anxiety. Mom taught me to stay busy, in mind and body. Go out for a walk. Stay in and clean. Read a book. Do a puzzle. Write. Do Something, Always. Because there is always something to do. 

Taught but did not mean to teach. Mom but not only mom. And it has taken me a long time to figure out that is what I am doing, and why I am doing it this way. Not a bad thing, and knowing it for what it is helps. It doesn’t debilitate me; I have anxiety, but not Anxiety, if you see what I mean. 

There are things to be done, and I am doing them, as best as I can. I am used to the idea that Everything takes three times longer than I think it will. So, I do my best to keep that in mind as I proceed and process. It will be okay, I know it will.  And in the meantime, there is always something to do.