Stuck

I have wanted to write a dozen times.

And not just here.

I’ve wanted to write blog posts, poems, work on my book I’m in the middle of, work on a new one I have an idea for…

I’ve wanted to do so many things, like add a shop to my website, and update my pbotography page with new photos and prices readily available. I want to restart the pod and do an idea I have in mind for street photography.

But it seems I’ve been stuck.

The thoughts are there. The intentions are good.
But ever since I’ve got back from California, it just has felt like life has been wearing me down.

It’s been one thing after another…getting back into the swing of things, going through my whole house with spring cleaning, the kids getting sick, me getting sick, my period, intense abdominal pains, two book events, my best friend’s graduation, photoshoots, kid events, headaches, getting sick again, Trev working 12 hour work days, more cleaning (every fucking day)…

Truth be told, I haven’t been able to catch my fucking breath. And it’s made me feel fucking awful. I have all this guilt over things I haven’t been able to do.

I haven’t been able to work out because of the whole sick things (even though we still do daily walks). I haven’t been able to write because of pure exhaustion. I haven’t been able to update my website because….well, I just don’t feel up to it.

I don’t want to market.

I don’t want to do social media.

I don't want to socialize.

I have trouble even posting online, in this super paranoid sort of way. Half of me doesn't want to add to the GARBAGE that’s constantly being posted — the exhausting echo chamber that is the online world. But another part of me, the more conspiratorial part, doesn’t want to give the internet gods the online satisfaction of existing in this space. It feels like I’m giving away my thoughts to some sort of super intelligence that is going to be fed and turned into just another brain wavelength of the eventual supercomputer.

I know, crazy.

But it makes sense with the entire concept of the book I’m working on, and been thinking about. It makes sense in my racing brain, but not when I randomly blurt it out in a blog post with no context, lmfao.

But I’m also high, and probably trying to avoid responsibility by some deep rooted unexplainable fear of mine.

In reality, it is just me. I’m the problem. I have no desire to commit to the marketing I need to do on social media, or to focus on my writing and work after the kids go to bed on work.

Lately, when I’m finally done hearing “mama” for the day, I just want to curl up on the couch and watch Sex and the City or read Stephen King or do Sudoku or build a tiny greenhouse.

I don’t want to focus on anything that has personal depth, and that’s where I think I’m the most stuck. I am fine focusing on interpersonal depth — the work of others, art by others, etc. But my own? Blech. It feels like TOO MUCH.

But at the same damn time…the thoughts are still coming.

I still want to get back to my podcast, and I take notes on all of the episodes I have planned. I still want to finish my next book, and have little ideas I write down constantly. Or, I’ll open up the file and write a sentence or two. I still write poems, but they’re choppy and unfinished.

I just really have been…exhausted, in so many ways. This is also the hardest season of motherhood I’ve ever been in, and I’m learning to navigate that as well.

As always, it’s a balancing game. And as always, I’m barely still on the beam.

One thing I can count on is that I fall, I’ll get back up.

I just feel like my brain and my body have been broken lately, and I somehow need a reset. The thoughts are there, I just need to get them out again. I need a good old fashioned reset.

Does anybody have any mushrooms and a forest somewhere?