Brain exhaustion is real folks.
There’s an old Texas saying (maybe in other countries as well) for the moment one: hits the wall, runs out of gas, crashes and burns, shoots their wad, writes checks their ass can’t cash, or bites off more than one can chew.
In my family we lean more to the spartan side when we speak (everyone but me — they can’t get me to shut up most times) and normally describe the situation of total burn out a little more succinctly. Whenever we’re suffering massive overwhelm whether it’s physical or mental, we’re…
This morning I realized I’m done in.
The problem is of course, cyclical in nature and usually comes round after a flurry of creativity where I’ve hammered out several thousand words of stories, observational pieces and poems and ditties.
Wait, that last part is redundant. My poems are ditties. I’m really not a poet in the truest sense of the word. Somewhere in my brain I think my poetic endeavors have to rhyme.
Just goes to show what I know.
That rhymed didn’t it?
See? When I’m done in, even conversational expertise goes out the window. It’s a crap shoot what you may get from me. My brain lets stuff just ooze out on its own recognizance without purpose and direction.
It’s tough as hell to concentrate when that happens. Even tougher to write something of import, something which makes a difference or shines a light on a pathway for someone struggling to find meaning in what they’re doing.
How can I as a writer help someone find their way, when I’m so done in I can’t find my own?
In my current state I don’t think I can help anyone put a different perspective on writing, living, or how to treat humanity with respect, love and equality. It’s difficult to think about all the things important to me, including my inner beliefs which have made me who I am.
I’m so done in it seems today I just can’t say the right things, at the perfect time for those who desperately need to hear it.
Being done in like I am also brings about a tremendous feeling of insignificance. Reminds me I’m just one voice among thousands. Forces me to understand there will always be someone else to guide and nurture so it doesn’t matter if I fall.
If I do, there will be others to take up the flag.
And there’s the rub because most days it matters to me.
But I’m so done in wanting to matter this morning, done in trying to be a contributing member of the most glorious community of writers in the world and it frustrates me.
I can’t stand it when I’m done in.
I don’t want to fall and be trampled by the crush of writers moving forward on their journey. I don’t want to be silenced simply because today I’m so done in I don’t know what to say.
I want to speak. I need to speak.
But today I’m just, done in.
Jessica Wildfire wrote a wonderfully insightful article on how to crash without burning.
And it really got me to thinking how I could have prevented being done in if I had only recognized the signs and performed a little triage and preemptive “self healing” downtime.
But I didn’t so here I am, struggling with myself, working through the malaise and searching for that creative spark again.
Like Jessica Wildfire said. There’s nothing wrong with recovery days.
I wished I’d read her piece yesterday.
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