Disconnected

I feel very disconnected lately.  Disconnected from myself… disconnected from life. 

I feel like I’ve been coasting along on a bicycle for the past few months, after someone gave me a giant push… and I haven’t touched the pedals since.  I don’t know if I’m afraid to touch them, but so far, I haven’t slowed down enough to feel the need.

I know I’ve said this before… but it’s been a rough year.

I don’t mean to continually use that excuse for everything that goes wrong– or seemingly goes wrong– in my life.  But when things seem sour, it’s the most obvious place to turn to.

I should add here that nothing at this moment is particularly wrong.  Nothing has happened that has shattered my world, or thrown me for yet another loop. 

My job drives me crazy, and yet I spend hours at a time there, working my ass off.  My apartment is a disaster area, and yet I spent a whole day last week cleaning out and organizing a closet.  I have garbage bags piled outside my back door, and yet I continue to throw more out there.  I do my laundry to have clean clothes, and yet I let the laundry bag sit in my bedroom and forget to hang the clothes up.

Thank goodness I remember to feed my cats… and myself.  At least that much of my life remains intact.

I’m hoping that eventually my feet will finally come in contact with the pedals, and I’ll be in control of my life again.  Maybe I need help reaching them.  But I haven’t quite figured that out yet. 

And yet… another push wouldn’t be so bad, either.

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