action/inaction

i have this obsession with fear. you could call me a fraidy-cat. i know that in the end, things will work out. but in the interim, while waiting, i get nervous. i quake internally. i shut down.

it's usually not the something i can put my finger on; it's something i cannot locate. yesterday, when dan asked me what i wanted to do, i wanted to watch a movie. that is the epitome of inaction for me--sitting and watching. but i could think of nothing else i wanted to do. everything seems insurmountable right now--putting away clothing is too large a job to complete, cleaning the grill is mt everest. i have to get these things done. i need to pay rent. i need to DO something, some chore that will wake up the sleeping inner dragon and make me move.

i often feel like the deer in headlights. something shines over me, some unnameable or even familiar fear, and i freeze. i wait for it to pass and shine on some other tree, some other beastie, because once i'm in the dark again, i'm safe. it's just that those seconds stretch on for me into far too much time. inaction becomes a way of life, i adapt and it's okay to not do anything.

which goes against the grain of my existence. my mom never sits down unless she is done with everything; i have the same drive to finish things before i rest, but i'm at this point where i feel as if i will never be done with anything. so why bother? i don't have the equipment together to climb the mountain, so i better just stay at base camp.

it's not something anyone else can change, either. it's something i have to change. i've done it before. it's like dragging a car out of a coke can--you just keep pulling and pulling and then the fear is in the light of day and it's not as awful as i imagine it is, and i can handle it, and i can move again.

so don't mind me at the moment. i'm just trying to de-hibernate. melt. thaw. once the light moves on, i'll be fine. my house will be clean, my life will be un-stuck; just give me the gift of time.