In the Dark

I am sitting in the dark, talking to a computer, telling it my story - trying to make sense of what is happening to me.

My brain is foggy, but full of ideas. So many ideas. But I can’t seem to hold on to any of them long enough to do something with them. I hurt everywhere today. My joints ache. My face feels numb and tingly. Everything feels heavy.

I know I need to rest. I know that’s what my body is asking for. But I just don’t want to. It feels wrong somehow - like I’m giving in. And I already rest so much. I’m sick of it. Sick of the lying down, the sitting in the dark, the waiting for a little more energy.

I remember when I was teaching - how I’d look forward to the breaks. I couldn’t wait for the chance to finally do nothing for a little while. But now, doing nothing is my default. I rest by necessity, not by choice. And I find myself sitting around, waiting for the rare moments when I can actually do something.

That shift - from looking forward to rest, to being stuck in it - is hard to explain. It messes with your sense of time, of purpose, of self.

So today, I’m here again. Sitting. Resting. Hurting. Waiting. Telling my story to a screen because that’s what I can do right now.