Here I’ve been, thinking that I’m doing well enough without you, thinking that I could afford to wait to write until another long vacation comes. The last summer break was so rich and productive that it gave me some pretty amazing fuel for these last 4 months of teaching and parenting and all sorts of other small projects. I thought this time away felt fine.
But the distance, it seems, has wrought a subtle devastation, an erosion of–at the risk of sounding dramatic–some of my favorite things about myself. My contributions to meetings and discussions feel ever more meandering. My once creative approaches to situations feel increasingly more rote. I’m noticing that my thinking and being in the world just feel less “Jeremy” to me. I told Glendi that I feel like I’m doing everything in my life at a 6 out of 10. That’s not me. I miss me.
Of course there are real stresses to blame. If I gave you the list and the stories, you’d place your hand on my shoulder and offer doughy, consoling words. But that’s not the point right now. It’s not that life is hard that’s the problem. Life has been this hard for years. What I realized is that the really hard thing is that I’m not consoling myself in the best ways I know how. I’m not writing about it. I’m not reflecting. I’m not dreaming. I’m not checking in with my best self, the Jeremy of this blog, the most real Jeremy that I know…and, damn, that has made these 4 months feel more and more disconnected as the nights get longer and the pressures grow.
My beautiful little blog, I need you. Let’s reconnect. Let’s catch up. Let’s pontificate and preach and prattle. I need more reminders of why I’m really here living and doing all this shit I do and, to be honest, nothing helps me feel better than talking to myself.