July 11, 2011

There are days (like today), when a dull cheerlessness washes over me. I’m not sad, not at all.  I think, possibly,  I’m just a teeny, tiny, little bit bored.
It is the kind of ennui that I have grown to expect after a whirlwind of activity such that I have had in the last few months, made worse I think by the relentless tedium of the adoption wait. Expected or not, it’s my most uncomfortable state.
In many ways I thrive in the chaos of too many projects, deadlines, big goals and always, ALWAYS something new and exciting.  My comfort zone is sort being OUT of my comfort zone. That or I need Ritalin.
I’ve always had that tendency but since turning (ahem) 45 a month ago it has intensified.  I feel like time is moving faster and things on my to-do list are not getting crossed off fast enough. 
Each day feels precious: too precious to waste.
 And yet at the same time there is also a deep sense of appreciation for the slowness of some days, (like today I suppose)...days when I don’t collapse into bed until well after midnight, exhausted and feeling like I missed something important.  
Days when I can be earthy and romantic and aware. And I know I need this too.
I ping pong between these states of hyper activity and Zen-like tranquility, not certain which I prefer. I sense a balance somewhere in between is best. Normal. Just not for me.
Such bourgeois (non) drama for a Monday morning huh?
Please tell me I’m not alone. And if you have the recipe for perfect balance please do share.

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