Thinking out Loud (2)

Right now I’m stuck in a void between chapters, and I hate the void because I feel like I have zero control. I’m someone who survives by knowing what the next step is, and right now every pillar feels suspended — my finances, my job, my Patient Talk program, dating, adapting to my new home, my daughter who’s draining me instead of grounding me. So this in-between feels like hell. I’m carrying too much at once, and it creates a lack of creativity, or at least I think it does. I mean, how can someone write when their nervous system is constantly scanning for danger and always bracing for what’s going to happen — because nothing is happening — and with all the uncertainty, I am scared, to be honest.

I’m tired of forced performances, like Tinder, for instance. You try to find connections, but it just feels like a chore — another place where I have to filter, decide, assess, play the “game.” And I don’t like feeling superficial because a photo doesn’t define who a person is. Whatever catches your eye isn’t the full story; you might not instantly find someone attractive, and not everyone takes great photos — like me, for example — but they could end up being the best connection you could have met, and you would never know that. And it’s the same with me. People look at my photo and base everything on my looks and then on my intro. I’m more for the natural, organic connection. One where two people meet and choose each other because they vibe, not because a photo was swiped left.

Anyway, I pulled back and deleted my account. I did it because it didn’t feel like life. It felt like labor. And I don’t have the energy for that kind of labor at the moment.

I spent years building myself into someone secure — someone with home ownership, a plan, an investment, a cushion — and losing that cushion doesn’t just feel risky. It feels like I’m losing the version of who I was, the person who earned it. Seeing my GIC shrink hits me in my chest. It’s not about the numbers. It’s about the stability and the fear of losing that.

My project proposal stung because I believed my Doctor saw me clearly. I believed that of all people, he’d give me some sort of guidance — approval, direction, critique, acknowledgement… something. But he was silent, and silence is an answer in itself.

Now I’m arguing with my daughter over something silly — her pet — and it’s like, I don’t need another unnecessary demand. I don’t need another emotional triangle, because it ends up becoming bigger than what it deserves. I’m craving peace, and I have no room left for any more drama or any more dumping.

I need my life to click back into place. I don’t need a miracle. I don’t need a breakthrough. I just need one area of my life to unfreeze so everything else can start to flow again. Like something’s gotta give.

All I can do, as I always do, is just take it one day at a time and hope that the days stop dragging and meaning comes back with direction — which I know will ease my nervous system, even if only for a little.