Moving: what you forget about it is how long it takes to really stop moving. How you feel like you’re standing on the deck of that boat long after you’ve disembarked. How the ground feels fluid and unsteady under your feet. How fucked up your inbox can truly become.
I woke up this morning with the urge to get my shit together. After a hectic and off-putting week, after a very long day that started at 4:30am and ended at 9pm, I slept for 12 hours and that seemed to finally flip the switch in some part of my brain that had been laid low by depression, anxiety, and exhaustion for months. I’ve just been coping, and coping mode can feel debilitating in a weird, this-is-all-I-am-forever-and-ever kind of way. Today, I felt somewhat capable. That’s new.
It’s not like I built a house or wrote a novel or made a movie. I cleaned out my inbox and replied to messages that have been lingering like a cold sore, not all that serious really but there. I filed away informational emails and saved the links and documents to places where they may actually get looked at and handled. I cleared my flagged messages folder which had emails that went back, I kid you not, to 2010. I wrangled the contents of my hard drive into some kind of order and dealt with the random mess of files on my desktop. I emptied my trash folder.
You should not be impressed, as none of this is particularly impressive. But I’m going to pat myself on the shoulder. For some reason, I’ve been able to keep my physical space relatively tidy and under control, but my digital space felt like the mound I could not possibly tackle. Too big. Too much.
Well, get me some pads, because today I’m a linebacker and this turf feels pretty damn solid.