Sometimes you just want to check out. I don't mean suicide or drugs or even grave depression. I mean more of the nagging feeling that everything is going wrong, you can't catch a break, you can't find your center, every smile is forced. It's not getting up on the wrong side of the bed; it's not wanting to get out of bed.
There's an old saying that goes something like this:
Sometimes the only way to learn to fly involves being pushed off a cliff.
That's the way I'm feeling these days. I so want to fly. I want to soar. I'm just not sure how. (I'm also not sure I've actually hit the edge of the cliff yet.)
Then I feel incredible guilt at the selfishness of these thoughts.
I'm not loving these extremes. Yet, I am clinging to my belief that I will fly again.
I do not recommend the combination of quitting smoking, finalizing a divorce and job hunting.
