My finger hovers over the mouse. I breathe, hesitate, count slow in a monotone, and close my eyes. The screen asks, "Are you sure?" And I know I'm not. A twitch, a feather-light movement, starts near my mouth.
I think a lot about withdrawing every submission I have sent right now. It began last week, and has increased significantly each day. Rejections flood my in-box, but that isn't new. I feel like I'll always be stuck where I am-- a feeling as familiar as my chronic pain. I don't know (for sure) what's causing the change.
Exhaustion, maybe.
Life is uphill. I have wheels with zero traction and I'm slipping. I lost my hope somewhere-- perhaps it's at the bottom of the hill I climb. I'm trying to have it airlifted to my location. All lines are busy.
It could be my sense of self-preservation is in overdrive. I find out I'm in remission, only to find out something else could be cancerous the very next day. Other stress scratches at the window like a tree branch. Or a ten-foot monster disguised as an oak.
My life is making me a bit irrational. At least I realize it.
I saw this motivational poster on Facebook that said: Be proud of yourself, you have survived 100% of your bad days. Sounds like success to me.
This month is a new month. Today is the newest day you'll experience. The mystery of all the good that can happen with another chance in front of you should be exhilarating. If it's not today, maybe it will be tomorrow. The only way things will never get better is if time stops. It hasn't. It's going. I'll keep going, too.
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