Too exhausted to process
Stress has been my riling companion of late. Too much turbulence inside my head to allow me to stop and relax. Too many stresses disturbing the peace. My brain is like a contortionist – a very unfit and out of practice contortionist. It is being stretched and twisted in all of the ways that cause pain and discomfort.
I haven’t written a journal entry for several days. Here is an attempt to restart the flow of words; an insertion of the mental cannula.
I have not been short of mental stimuli and raw material for journal entries and short stories: a leaving meal for a colleague I’ve worked with for six years; a children’s party where we almost lost two of the children down the high street. Who knows who could have snatched them if we hadn’t found them sooner; a stressful client meeting that had several subtexts and heightened my anxiety levels to breaking point later in the day.
What have I been able to do with all of this? Nothing, as yet, apart from jotting some of it down (see above). Rough notes. Raw material. An attempt to realign the brain. An attempt to reignite the flame.