This week, I started to crack a little bit, mentally. I've let a lot of work slip recently, which I feel bad about. Feeling bad about not responding to emails and not making progress on code has led to me feeling even worse, until eventually I'm too paralyzed to do those things, even if I wanted to.
As this awareness in me came to a head yesterday, I finally spent some time writing last night. Opening my favorite notebook, I realized I hadn't actually done that in about a month. I started to write about what I've been seeing in myself, solidifying those light feelings that appear, but often go neglected for some stronger external stressor.
I had a shallow sleep last night, which is unusual for me. I kept waking up, feeling like barely any time has passed, and I was still just trying to fall asleep. After my dog woke me for an early breakfast, I laid in bed for a while, trying to train my mind onto something other than everything on my plate, all my to-dos and obligations. I tried to think only about what I would do first after getting up. I thought about how things had started to pile up in my apartment; about how I normally just get up, check my phone, and sit down at my computer, letting the metaverse sweep me away in whatever trouble is happening there.
I didn't want to do that today. So instead I picked up the apartment, washed last night's dishes, sorted through my junk mail. I put clothes away, cleared space on my desk, jotted down my perspective this morning.
There was a practice I started last November where I wouldn't start working until I did something completely unrelated, creative, etc. At some point I fell out of it, but I think I'll start that again. Here's today's entry toward that end. Now to start the day.