I took two extra days, so I could have the whole week off. A whole week, and so damn little achieved. Whenever I stop working, stop commuting three hours every day, I just feel so tired, falling down through loosening layers of tension, wariness, irritation, into a deep pit of exhaustion; with every defence discarded, falling further. A week is not enough, even, to hit bottom. So I’m trying to forgive myself for not having done the major springcleaning I envisaged, or travelled to Chartres to walk the cathedral labyrinth, or been to see the Matisse exhibition, the Africa exhibition, the Writer in the Garden exhibition, the exhibition of paintings by Strindberg, the Turner-Whistler-Manet exhibition, the Turks exhibition or the Tree of Life at the British Museum, or even written something more substantial for my blog.
¶ 9:58 am
Oh, do I know that feeling!!
But don't beat yourself up over it. You don't *have* to do any of those things.
Anyway. Nothing substantial? I rather liked the cows, even though I haven't left anything yet to say so...
Fabulous description of the angst free-time can give one! This past vacation I had in London was probably one of the first times I allowed myself to do all sorts of wonderful things without the angst. However, I have had a lot of practice these past few months with a forced sabbatical that almost sent me over the edge with guilt!- AFTER feeling: "I just feel so tired, falling down through loosening layers of tension, wariness, irritation, into a deep pit of exhaustion; with every defence discarded, falling further."
And, please, forgive yourself. We all need to do that a lot, in my opinion!
I can relate to this so well, Jean. Sometimes what we really need is time to regenerate, to sleep, to allow ourselves to be exhausted. But it's so hard to do that - often harder than the "doing", the working-through of all those lists. A friend once said to me, "be careful of your 'shoulds'." I so often forget that good advice.