I've cried every day for the last week.
Not the light cries that come with watching a sad movie or stubbing your toe - but heaving, uncontrollable sobs.
At first, I didn't know why. During my bouts of crying, the thoughts are vivid: I'm exhausted. I'm unmotivated. I have a list of things to do and I can't get through any of them. I'm getting old. Life is going too fast. I don't know what I want and yet I'm craving the things I don't have.
Watch: The dogs are not okay right now. Post continues after video.
But where did this come from? When did the low hum of these thoughts become so loud they demanded the urgent attention of tears?
I'm starting to think it's the inevitable result of a 'break' that wasn't a break at all - The Great Non-Holiday of 2021. Usually during those late weeks of December, we stop. We live in a suspended reality between Christmas and New Year where the days bleed into each other and we blissfully fall out of our routines and allow ourselves to breathe. There's spontaneity. There's laughter. There's connection.
But this year, none of it felt right. None of it.