What do you write about when you can’t write anything? About nothingness, I suppose. Not to get too meta here, but the void is pretty scary.
I’m tired. Really, really tired. I’m back up here in Maine trying to catch up on all the stuff I let slack or couldn’t do remotely from Boston. Who knew being unemployed was so time consuming? From paperwork, to AT&T customer “service” agents, to re-packing for another trip this week, I am just now getting a moment to think.
It’s also my 28th birthday today. I’m not huge into birthdays and it looks like this one will pass uneventfully. Like other markers in our lives, however, birthdays are a time for renewal. A time to reflect, a time to project forward. This is the first birthday that I can truly say what lies ahead is pretty blank.
I have an incredible partner, great friends who are all too far away, and my health. Beyond those things, I’m still figuring out how to fill my days. In the midst of starting this project, my world was upended. What happened in Boston still doesn’t feel real and I have to remind myself that the nightmares and the massive mood swings are all just my brain trying to work things out. So I am doing things. Although forcing something out doesn’t seem right, doing nothing is worse.
Something that I have found comfort in are small traditions. I light a candle. I say a rote prayer. I look down at the question mark rings I bought some of my best girlfriends who are living in Boston, doing work and trying to process. I reread my favorite passages and try to relax.
So although I dont have many (or any) answers as to what the next year or beyond will bring, I have questions. Lots of questions. And those can fill a blank page just as easily.