I try repeatedly to impose a schedule on myself. I am not currently working outside the home so there is no externally imposed structure. Which is both freeing and constricting. I shrivel under rigidity and yet find myself slipping into depression even when the field is wide open.
Because, sure, the green grass is soft beneath my feet and the sun is warm and pleasant and the flowers smell lovely and smile up at me with their multicolored lips and the breeze is like a thousand kisses on my skin.
But my feet are getting muddy and the sun is a wee bit too hot and the flowers' fragrances are cloying and kisses soon grow numb and besides that I don't know which way to run.
With aimlessness, the joy of feeling normal is subject to a creeping anxiety or a dissociation or both. Structure helps ward off either, helps me have focus and discern individual flowers to tend to, without feeling the urgency to tend to the whole sea of flowers all at once. It protects me from the freneticism that heightens my sensitivities to unbearable levels. It protects me as well against the aimlessness that simply fades the entire scene to gray and blocks out all the movement and colors and breaths.
But it's so hard to embrace it. I just want to lean back in the grass and savor.
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