I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. My website yanks at my left leg. Freelance writing tugs at the right. My day jobs tries to snatch off my entire left arm. The other limb holds tight, fighting off the demands and complaints of needy teens and controlling managers. My middle? It’s soft and pudgy albeight its attempts to remain firm and disciplined.
My neck is quite the opposite, overtaken by knots that leave muscles tense even after a good nights rest.
And I feel my head spinning.
Rolling down a hill, filled with thoughts and desires and master plans and plots to leave NYC and have my own business and build a better life…for me, my immediate and future family. My head spins, spins, spins, and I don’t want to return emails or speak to a soul on the phone. I don’t want to text or talk nonsense or business. No meetings set up or calls returned. I don’t want to speak of the weather or friends babies or complain about how much I dreaded returning to New York from California. How I was homesick because I missed my family and torn because I am sick of “home.”
New York doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s humid heat disgusts me and the trash on the streets angers me. But I don’t want to leave my family nor do I want to live for anyone but Sujeiry.
And so I feel my head spinning.
Rolling down a hill, filled with unanswered questions that myself and others continue to ask of me. I am overwhelmed, reflective, ready to leave NYC, prepared to leave behind parts of me to feel somehow whole.
I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. My head spin, spin, spinning.
So please, world, give me some space, some time to reflect. Please, for a second, a minute, just let me be.