As I type, I am racing past the unfinished draft of yesterday's post. There is no time for past melancholy. I'm on a move now. Filled with the spirit. Flush with a decided sense of competence.
I'm confident I can meet my deadlines. Confident that, at least for a day, I won't be flattened by a new round of criticism from my bosses. I have had challenges, unforeseen difficulties; I have met them. Why? Cuz I am a somewhat capable human!
I'm manic. I called Colin to go jogging later. I will consider recreational drug use. I will feel great until bed time. I'll put off sleep for as long as I can.
Then, just before bed (probably after Rachel has fallen asleep on my lap) I will descend into my underlying stress. I will note the shoulder tightness that is still there as I type through my high. The constant state of vulnerability I can't shake. I'm living and dying in the present right now. But the future. The future is terrifying.
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