robert frost

Two roads converged in a wood and I,
I took the one less traveled by...

And that has made all the difference.

I find myself not so much feeling lost as floating, drifting.

On the phone today my mom told me she would love to hear my timeline for future school plans whenever I was ready to share them. I told her, without trying to hide any of the exhaustion [emotional, physical and spiritual] that has enveloped me today like a blanket, that I did not currently have a timeline.

I recognize that at this point in my life I am at a crossroads. I have the option of putting one foot in front of the other and continuing on in the day-to-day things that routinely present themselves [get up, make my bed, make breakfast, shower, do my dishes, go to work, go to the gym, come home, make dinner, do my dishes, go to bed, repeat]. And I have the option of looking up, looking around, and finding the scenery that calls to me, that invites me in, that suits me most, suits me best.

It is easier to, when so plagued by exhaustion, look down and put one foot in front of the other and continue with my daily routine. It is easy to rest in the comfort of my daily routine, even when it is not what I genuinely desire to do now or in the future. My displeasure in the day to day takes its tole, yes, but it is slow, and seemingly painless [at least at first, like a small internal wound that slowly leaches blood into your cranial cavity, the sort of unattended bleeding that leads to strokes and aneurysm].

The effort of searching for that path in the wood that is best suited to who I am is taxing almost instantly [like the sudden blood loss that results from a flesh wound, messy and difficult to control at first, but easily healed with proper attention]. It takes its tole blatantly, unapologetically draining my energy. But not my strength.