While it's no secret that I am almost always racing with anxiety, I always find it fascinating when my internal, racing, thoughts present themselves in front of me when I turn out the lights at the end of the day. From tornadoes, getting lost in airports, losing my sense of direction, being chased by some sort of animal or person I can't identify, to riding elevators that look like laundry baskets that spin awkwardly into buildings about to topple; it's quite a funny thing to pay attention to your dreams and what your subconscious is telling you. I must be lost.
With the holidays approaching, I am hoping I can figure out how to shut off and relax, as I have been so unable to focus lately that even attempting to write anything is quite difficult. Frankly, I am not in the spirit at the moment, but I am hopeful that once things settle down, I am going to do my best to backtrack; even if I make something of it after the season passes. Winter -over Christmas itself- is really the time that I come alive, so all is not lost if I can't be bothered to look at my Christmas tree fondly or even think about what kind of cookies I want to bake to make the season bright. It's what you make of it, when you can. So until then, I'll be boarding the laundry basket elevators to take a ride into the unknown. I hope to return to myself, soon.