The Reckoning

Good news. My screen time was down 21% this week, to only 5 hrs and 2 minutes daily. What? Still way too much and I think that counts only the social media time? Certainly not the computer work hours.

I’ve been having a bit of a wallow this week. Suddenly the role of pandemic cheerleader began to droop and curl at the edges, like the unused arugula in my refrigerator. The fantasy that my crush allowed was extinguished with an icy bucket of water like the ALS challenge. That could be part of my current malaise, but really, it was the aftermath spent examining my need to have that crush was that really made me stop and reckon.

I reckon the icy bucket was the kindest and certainly the most direct way to close out that humiliating chapter.

I reckon the end of a 34 year marriage isn’t over in an instant.

I reckon that someone who has not been practicing courtship plumage displays might not be very adept at it. (At the risk of boring the reader, I’d type this about four more times, but you get it.)

I reckon more introspection is needed.

I reckon I’m really missing exercise in my life, as well as green space, attention for reading, and social engagement.

I reckon I miss my church, which is the shared experience I have every time I go to the theatre.

I reckon the hermit life is not one I’m particularly well suited for, though this week belies that statement.

I reckon I’m not alone in feeling these surges and ebbs of despondency.

I reckon the lack of creative impetus will also pass if I allow myself to be honest with what I’m experiencing now. And simply record it.

I reckon I’m so grateful for those in my life who reach out to poke me and check in. Eternally grateful.

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I reckon this too, shall pass, and I will again be my normal, optimistic and positive self in the world. Most likely soon.

But for the time being, I reckon I’m allowing myself a good wallow.