I have been struggling to write lately. Feeling guilty about blogging without dissertating, I’ve sequestered all words to a place in my mind where they float around bumping into each other all day. Each day I would wake up in full panic knowing I needed to write and being both physically and mentally unable to.
I tried my old tactics. Giving myself something to look forward to–graduation and trying to imagine the feeling of completion but it didn’t help. It wasn’t until this morning I woke again in panic but also seemingly in the middle of a conversation with Zachary.
I am afraid. No longer being a student. No longer working towards a prescribed goal. No longer the script and regiment of academia. As much as I hate it sometimes, I also love being tethered to something. It is nice to…
I could feel his listening and his words before they crossed his lips. It was safe. School, for me, is my safety net. I am good at school. I know how to succeed at school. I can write. I can network. I’m even spectacular at math and science, I am not a one trick pony. I am a very intelligent woman who has always excelled at learning. “Yes, and…” I sensed him inquiring.
Yes and, I don’t know how to be good at what I want to do. There is no prescription. There is no handbook or framework or precedence.
There had been strong moments of synchronicity lately. Messages from “them” or “they” sent to inform me. It boiled down to listening and trusting what I felt right now in this moment. Presence.
I could feel Zachary warm to this line of thinking. And so now that we have acknowledge the fear, we have sat in the panic rather than tried to escape it, we can write. We can press on.
It was the first clear moment I’d felt in a while. And with that, I was ready.