Sitting, quiet, here with you — my mind’s aflutter — of things to do, questions left unanswered, wondering how you can just sit so calmly across from me; headphones in, fingers to keyboard as we both attempt at productivity.
My mind wanders to the not yet done, making lists, planning — getting lost in the will be. Where are you? The present feels elusive, the past fuzzy, in a created narrative designed to fit my expectations of what is now.
Sitting with you in the quiet, I’m waiting — maybe to pull the scattered pieces of myself back together. Where do you go mind when you’re not quite here? Thoughts going to the not here in the space between our words — anticipating your words; wondering if they’ll express where I am.
In the litany of things, I wonder where I am between —
How are you? (There’s a space between the dialogue.)
Okay — that’s all I’ve been for a while, wondering what’s beyond the managing, the getting through, the doing the next thing. (I suspect you want to hear I’m okay — an emotionless word for a state of being.)
And I wonder what it would be like to describe a state that feels slower — the just getting by — a feeling good that isn’t between periods of not yet. We have slowed the pace for a minute, maybe a 50-minute hour, catching up with myself — as I wonder about the realness of my own experience.
Is that what I’m thinking or feeling? Would naming it help — if a response to alleviate this state feels far away?
I am scattered before you as I attempt to describe this litany of concerns, maybe worries — outside the conversational to the just is — not knowing how you’ll respond and then trying to convey these thoughts — wondering if they’ll make sense to you.
“Managing is hard,” she said deliberately.