What am I doing?
This question pops in my head at least once a day, probably. I feel the constant batting of a thousand butterfly wings swarming in the pit of my stomach. I breathe a deep one in and let it out with a sound, like you do in yoga. Sometimes, I even find myself in downward dog, caving in my spine, keeping my legs so straight and strong and feeling the stretch through the entire back of my body. When I feel the muscles pull I imagine them popping out all the bad stuff. Doubts, negativity, pessimistic projections. I breathe deeply in again, trying to believe it’s going to be Ok. I’m going to be alright. Things have a way of working out. Phrases such as, “Day by day”, “You’re doing everything you can”, “So many people believe in you”, “Don’t think about your bank account” and “At least you have somewhere to sleep” do laps in my head. Sometimes I have to force myself out of whomever’s home I’m residing in because my instinct is to hide inside, sit at a computer and look-submit-research-contact and wait for a new e-mail, response, call or something to happen. I need to keep churning, grinding, burning. Running makes me feel productive. When I’m running, I get a similar sensation to when I’m scoping the job scene. The nerves are at their calmest in these instances. Even though I have all this time I can’t go to the beach, I can’t lay in the grass at the park and I feel so undeserving of the warm rays of the sun to touch my face. “That’s a reward”, I tell myself. I feel I’m punishing myself in some way knowing full well that those fresh rays would make me smile, make me believe and help me put this small moment I’m living in, into perspective.