The Weekend (Thoughts)

This morning..I woke up with thoughts clawing frantically towards the weekend. I know that this will not be an easy weekend for me. It almost promises that. So as always, I'm worrying about it before it even begins. On the drive to work I felt my thoughts cover their cold hands around my throat. I could barely breathe.

It's only two days
It's only two days..

I was looking to the sky again and trying to let it's openness find something within me to release. I thought, Look at the sky Lorna, so vast and beautiful, always covering you, always protecting you. What do you have to worry about while under it?

And I did look up and I did see just how calming and soft and serene it looked to me. And I could feel my heart slow its beat and my breathing come back to normal. I don't know what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, or even the day after that..but I know that right now, I'm here under the sky. And I'm alive.

This Morning

Yesterday came to me like the swirl of this beating chaotic noise that I could neither stop nor quiet. It's aftershocks left me disheveled, not quite aware of myself or how to continue on.

But this morning, the world is covering me in such softness that I can only forget yesterday's troubles. I'm immersed in silence and I'm taking each breath more slowly than I ever would have.

I'm digging my feet into the ground and holding on today. Nothing will shift me off balance.

Nightly Ramble

Before I swam this sea of endless symmetry. I was the rock, the weathered stone. I was the slant slipping through the designated lines. As strong as I am, no fall could end without a shatter.

Thoughts about Night

Right now, I'm thinking about night as a fleeting breath against me. I need it's soothing touch but it never stays long enough. It is truly the only time when thinking comes naturally to me, when words are not so harsh and solid, but softer, gentler. I wish it would stay with me longer, but nothing in this world is permanent. So everytime I wake up, I let go, I exhale. And the night sheds itself and reemerges as day. This to me, is a sacrifice.

Wake Up

When I rose this morning, only darkness greeted me. But it silences the mind and so I allowed it. It's only when the sun rose that new worries rose with it. But at that moment, while the thin film of sleep still stuck to my skin, and night surrounded me, my mind was empty and everything was still ok.

You Can't Break

What you couldn't have.

And that's what I'm feeling right now, like something I thought I was breaking, was never mine to break in the first place. It's all on display, this sad attempt at ownership. I don't want to rent out my own life forever. But right now..it seems like this is all there is. So I write..and at least I know that those words, though used by millions of people, billions of times a day..are my own. Because the came from me in this chaotic (or cryptic, or sorrowful) fashion and I breathed something into it.

There's so much that isn't mine. But it's still all just one big burden. I should let it go. Leave it to whatever owns it to take it all back.

Overthinker.

I'm thinking that maybe I think too much.

There's a full fledged conversation started up there before I even part my lips.

Arguments rage up there and I can never counter it.

I'm battling my own self for control of my life,

My sanity.

But really all that ever comes out of me is silence.

I...

Wonder what it will take to win this?

Or...perhaps I'm just thinking too much?

The Future in the Sky

I wonder if the sky can tell our future?

If the black swirl of those clouds the oracle transformed?

I'd like to ask it questions

And have the stars answer me back.


I wonder if such a thing is possible?

Change

The world never stops moving does it?

You inhale air

And by the time you exhale, it has filled a whole new space.

Everything is movement.

I guess that is why it is natural for us to change.

Evolve

Transcend

Or whatever you want to call it.

I'm just shedding

Skin, clothes, hair

All of it recycled into something new.

I wonder what will become of all things lost to the constant?

Wandering Flowers

If I were the dandelion, and life the wind...where would those uprooted parts of me fly to? I'd like to say somewhere fresh and green, where I could prosper. How knows how far the wind would take me.

I know I would be scared. To fly where life wants you fly. It's so unsure. It's so scary to leave yourself open to chance. I would try to fight the uncertainty, but as a flower, delicate and still unknown on this Earth, you go where you seed happens to fly.

I admire those brave enough to wander.

I'm falling, falling falling and below the world is a twinkle of stars.

Falling Dreams

The dreams that scare me the most are the dreams in which I fall.

Nothing makes sense until that moment. Everything is a blur. And then I find myself walking, or running from or towards a destinations that still not clear and I find myself tumbling into darkness.

I always feel the impact. It shakes my heart.

Sometimes I'd find myself on ivy covered stairs. Their beautiful stone, like something you'd find in the a distant castle garden. There's a fairy tale hidden in the many places. I think in those dreams my fall is the most graceful. But the impact shudders me to the core.

When I wake in the darkness, clutching myself for support I always wonder how it is that the soul can crash harder than the body?

A Truly Perfect Day

I wish that I could have a truly perfect day. It wouldn't even consist of me doing anything extravagant, like fine dinners or world travel. I just want to be able to sit and write. Watch the sun rise. Watch it set. Laugh, read, cry if I have to, without the interruptions.

These ceaseless interruptions.

I woke this morning knowing that this would not be a perfect day.

The yells that came a couple of hours afterwards only helped to point this out.

I'm not tired. I slept well. A dreamless quiet sleep. I wish it could be like that when I'm awake. Quiet.

I wonder if the sky is quiet. I look towards it in those stressful moments and I never hear a reply to the questions I ask myself.

It's Saturday. I've rested. I'm up. I'm alive. I suppose this should be perfection. The fact that I even exist.

And yet.

All this noise only leaves me wishing.

I wish for a truly perfect day.

Introduction.

I am a chronic worrier.

I am victim to a mind that refuses to quit. I don't know if it is the thoughts that fuel my mind, or my mind that fuels these thoughts. What I do know, is that  I worry about the things I cannot change, the things I wish I could have changed and those things that have not yet happened. Days are spent playing out a pointless possibility. Life has become a series of scenarios, both factual and hypothetical. One part of me lives in the real world, doing real things, living a real life. Another part of me cannot help but worry about what could happen while I am out living life. Will I trip and embarrass myself? Where will that happen? What will I be wearing? What if I trip in front of many people? Will I ever see those people again? Will they recognize me? And on and on.  I can only watch without pause. I spend so much time thinking, that I barely enjoy the moment. And that is the problem. I want to enjoy the moment. Not think about it two days later and realize how much I could have enjoyed myself. It is like I am living vicariously through the experiences I'm barely aware I had. My worries and anxiety results in restless nights and stressful mornings. It is not acceptable to just accept a life full of the stress my mind continually conjures. So as an act of respite, I have decided that the only way to rid my mind of these anxious and frequently absurd thoughts is to purge them.

That is how this journal came to be.

I needed a way to chronicle these thoughts. I needed something to motivate me to let things go.

Quite often I find myself talking to an empty room, just to release all worry that has built up inside my busy head. Today I choose to write it down. In doing so I hope to reclaim my mind, my sanity, and my life.

It is like I have tunnel vision. All I can do is worry. That is all that falls into my sight. But around me there is so much more. There is life, there is light and I need to take it all in.


These are the words of a chronic worrier, looking to find solace in her own mind.