What’s wrong with me?
My head is foggy. I can’t think of anything to write. I’m exhausted. Maybe I have some kind of ailment. Maybe it’s lack-of-fiber-myalgia or osteo-lyme disease. Or a serious case of how-will-I-eat-when-I’m-old-iosis. Whatever it is, I’m always searching for why I’m tired, why my left temple hurts, why the sound of people chewing fills me with rage. I’m always asking what, for the love of god, is wrong with me? Just ask my browser history:
January: depression statistics, New Hampshire vs. California
April: tightness in chest, sweating, anxiety
August: sudden dark freckle on forehead
October: pumpkin seeds and pain, lower left side
Clearly, the only thing wrong with me is that I’ve come down with a horrible case of seasonal googling disorder.
It’s astonishing how much time I’ve spent sifting through the days, searching for why I’m just not feeling right. Why I’m just so tired. And while there may be many legitimate reasons for my malaise that google can help me with, I read something a couple of years ago that really hit home. I read that the antidote for exhaustion is not necessarily rest. The antidote for exhaustion is wholeheartedness. And I wholeheartedly agree.
What do I care most about? What is the conversation I want to be having with the world? Am I having it?
Pamela! This is not a dress rehearsal. Don’t be afraid. The world is waiting for you. Terrible things and good things will happen. Go, look at the sky, lay on your back and see the stars, watch the red trees reflected in the lake, hear the owl, the woodpecker, the emergency alarm of the chipmunk. Leave your office chair turned on its side, slam the door behind you, put down the cell phone, get off of Facebook. Silence the noise outside of yourself. Silence the noise inside.
Pamela! Live wholeheartedly! There is nothing wrong with you, except you keep forgetting to live the life you were meant to live.
Starting Close 