I’m ready for a break now.

Wednesday has rolled around again and with it I’m facing a day that’s scheduled down to the minute. I know I’ve a run in front of me – I enjoy my run, but I’m feeling physically tired and I’m also tired of being “on” and managing students and I really feel like I just need a big cheese wheel of quiet time.

My three-year-old self is sulking and asking “What about me? When will it be my turn?” And the truthful answer is “always” all the time is mine, I just have to see it and take it. But that’s not the answer I’m looking for. At least, it’s not the response I’m looking for. Right now I’m looking to abdicate responsibility. I want someone else to be in charge and tell me what to do (and then I can sulk about the unfairness of not being in control of my own life and always being told to do things). I want someone else to determine the levels of what’s healthy for me to do to my body and put into my body, and how much sleep to get, and for those things to be a priority rather than the smooth (ish) running of a household, then maintenance of an income, the prospects for the future – rather than all of that being my responsibility and my priority.

I’m tired of stupid choice. I can see why religion gets all attractive to people and shit like that. You get to hand over your whole life to some all-powerful entity. You get to believe that all the boring pointless stuff has purpose, is part of a greater plan, that you matter, that you’re loved. All you have to do is maintain your part of the contract and follow the problematic ole misogynistic, homophobic, probably racist, definitely exclusionary rules.

I would be all over joining a club that would have people like me as members. But people like me are unlikely to form clubs. It’s the opposite to the Groucho problem.

Anyway, back to the morning at hand.

My mind feels like a horse being forced into its box. I can feel my brain throwing up its metaphorical head and rolling back symbolic eyes, showing those scary whites. I will. not. go.

And yet I have to go. By “go” by the way, I just mean go through the day, get on with the usual tasks of the day: teach some pointless (feels that way today) classes, smile and interact with humans in a way deemed professional and respectful, run – I want to run actually, I want to run harder than my body is able to manage, I want to push my lungs and my muscles and feel my limbs race and sprint over the ground. I just don’t want to have anything to do with other people this whole day.

Then home and eat and get tired and feel guilt over not tidying up messes and pick up children and meet people and ugh. More social interaction? Will it ever end?

We’ve a friend staying this weekend, so there’s all of Saturday poisoned with social interaction.

I’m in no form for it, I hugely desire to close myself away from the world.

Can I be a hermit and live in a hole on the side of a mountain for a year? Oh yeah, I kind of did that already. And now I can complain about the six years of my life lived in near isolation. I liked a lot of that isolation though. I feel like I’ll never have that “space” again.

But look, we’re back again to the three-year old: sulking and railing against perceived injustices.

I can find space in one breath. I can take the time to be mindful without needing to have absolutely clear space and an iconic candle flickering and reflected in glass. Even just reminding myself of that choice is kind of helpful. Here I am, this is me, I get to exist, I deserve to exist and my way of being in the world is a valid one.

So here’s my commitment for today: every time I find myself getting sulky and cranky and feeling the claustrophobic weight of other humans and their voices and opinions and needs, I will breathe and feel myself and my presence and the space that I own inside my own body.

Maybe I’ll just be a lot more quiet in the world today. Maybe I’ll actually learn something doing that.

I’ll let you know.

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