So, I’ve had my mini break-down and am now starting to turn the right way up. The past couple of months felt like they were in the washing machine and now the cycles are over, I can finally fling them out and hang them up to dry in the neat warmth of the sun. I still have most of the same worries that I had back then—the core ones at least—but I’m definitely able to look at everything with a clearer mind. I feel better about myself in most aspects of my life and I’m steadily pulling out of the slump I was in.

With that said, I have neglected my blog (not that it’s read by many) and want to get back on track with it.

Year 3, Semester 2, 2020

I was walking along with clouds lining my eyes, making me tired. They shift, expanding and fading and randomly changing how much sun they’re letting in as I drag my feet along the pavement, tripping myself up every few metres. And so I walk slower, and I glare while I’m trying to see past the clouds, but it doesn’t help. My body feels so heavy, but I don’t think I’m carrying anything. The weight is from all of the digital to-do lists that I’m trying desperately to put together. Scrapping them, re-writing them and re-ordering them because I know I’ve left something out. I know there’s something missing … I know there is … but I don’t know what it is. So I stop and try harder to see and even harder to just think. But I’m falling asleep and my body can’t hold me upright anymore. I fall onto my knees, still trying to think of what I was meant to be putting together … words upon words … I can’t remember. I can’t remember but I can feel it on my shoulders. I can hear the fluttering of paper as I try to catch a hold of files, folders and notebooks. I can hear people telling me that it’s going to be okay, that I can do this … but I’m not even sure what I’m doing anymore. I’m lying down, just feeling the concrete. Was there something I was meant to do? Was there somewhere I was meant to be? I think I’m dreaming. I think the cloud might be a dream … or are the people talking a dream? What was I meant to do again?

I suck in a big breath of air. It fills my lungs and I close my eyes for a moment, not fighting to keep them open any more. It feels like a pool of cold water is rising up around me. And now I’m floating and everything is quiet. Everything is dark and I can just hear my breathing. I use it to wash my face and then I open my eyes. I can see the sky above me, as rain pours down, washing over me. I can see words in the droplets, each a task I’ve completed, as the clouds start moving to order the remaining tasks for me. It all starts to pull itself together and I’m lying in a flood of my accomplishments. Yes. That’s right. I’m not burdened by what I have to do, I am supported by everything I have done. I’m rising.

The world is gold and grey at the moment, with a dash of red, almost like a sepia tone. Storm clouds are pushing through and there’s a chill on the air that gives life to my blood. Thunder is rolling overhead and the sunset pastels are painted on the edge of clouds. It’s quiet. It’s cold. It’s empty. And it’s beautiful.