Fleeting Peace

I am sitting laying curled up in bed, trying to overcome a massive food coma.

It has been nearly a month since I’ve written. I don’t know what to tell you, except that I’ve just been… tired. Don’t get me wrong, I still write over at EdWeek, which has much of my focus. Still, I know my entire fall has been colored by my own emotional and physical fatigue. I open the page and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t even know who “you” is anymore. Myself in

I don’t even know who “you” is anymore. Myself in ten years? The ether? I shouldn’t write for an audience, but I haven’t had much of a desire to wax poetic on my inner sleepiness to myself.

So, what’s been going on?

I’m… happy. That’s really it. The ellipses isn’t a bad pause, it’s just an admittance that there’s nothing to analyze beyond the simple statement of fact. My life hasn’t been particularly tumultuous. A few weeks ago Chase and I traveled to San Francisco and it was gorgeous. We had an excellent time eating all the Mexican food, drinking, and seeing families and friends. We even caught The Lion King, which was a joy as always. We had an excellent time and are hoping to head to Chicago to catch Hamilton sometime in the Spring.

Besides that, things are generally steady. I run and teach. I want more sleep. I have a wonderful family who I miss, friends who cry and laugh with me (especially during the election season), a relationship that feels steady and happy. I am taking things day by day, which is all anyone can ask, I suppose. There’s not much drama or turmoil to spur any kind of writing. When I lamented this to Chase, he joked that he could act like a jerk for a few weeks, but even then I actually feel like even if he were a jerk, I’m finally at a place where I’d either make him talk through it or leave.

I think, right now, my biggest internal enemy is my own complacency. Things just feel so steady, it is easy to shut myself off from the things that used to make me angry and spurred me to lean into difficult work. I see now that some of the passion I funneled into other aspects of my work– teaching, returning to acting– were an attempt to escape aspects of my personal life that were less-than-pleasant. Of course, they were also from a deep, internal desire to do what I believe to be right, but working against oppressive structures is, obviously, tiring. When that sense of fatigue and stress was mirrored in my personal life, it felt easier to rage at it all since I was embedded with a deep sense of discontent.

Now, if I’m honest, my personal bubble feels warm and safe and happy. I finally feel supported in a way that I can actually relax into it– and I think it’s becoming a little dangerous. I am trying to find the thing that forces me to come out from behind the battlements of my stability, but I have been so tired the past few years, it’s been a little hard to get off the mat.

So, I’m hoping the find the spark again soon. I see glimpses of it here and there– clearly, the election was a big kick in the ass– but I’m also trying to remind myself that these things come in waves and that at some point I will sorely miss the sense of quiet joy I have each day now.

For the moment, I’m going to call it a day. I’m going to thank the universe that, despite the shenanigans of 2016, I still find a deep sense of gratitude for all the joy in my life. As my boyfriend plays video games and I curl up to The Gilmore Girls revival, I know that while this sense of peace is fleeting, it is still quiet enjoyable.

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