It’s Lughnasadh. It’s Lughnasadh and I am at an airport, waiting to board on a plane that will whisk me away from the safe cocoon I have built around myself for the last three years.
I wish I were in my room in a rocking chair, reading without abandon, staying awake until I wanted to, not feeling pressured from every freaking side.
Instead, my energy is zapped, my nerves are hanging on by the threads, and I’m so nervous that my stomach is churning. I have to keep reminding myself to breathe, and breathe slowly. Whatever happened is too late now. I have tp concentrate on the presence so that I can keep down the meager lunch I had. I won’t see German people for the next month, and it’s a relief and disturbance of my routine.
Times like these, I am not at all sure who I am. Isn’t that supposed to be easy to know? Instead I have the feeling of chasing my own tail around and around, desperate to see a part of me while missing the big picture.
The summer is coming to an end, even if the temperature is trying to convince us otherwise.
My personal state of mental health is, well, in frenzy. And because my brain is full of worries, my body refuses to eat.
I should probably eat something. I haven’t had a proper meal in two, no three days. Or four? Does it matter?
Happy, calming Lughnasadh, everyone. I hope you are faring better than me.