I label myself a spontaneous planner.
As in- I’m totally into spontaneity, but let’s be real… a little planning in the process never hurt anyone.
It’s comfortable here, where I know plan, where things are going smoothly, where there’s little worry, or room for error. However, I’ve never known a time in my life where things went so consistently against my plans. Details don’t need hashed out; but without a doubt, the stress of the unforseens in recent months have taken their toll on me.
Tina Fey gets me, in fact I am sure her dedication in Bossypants should have been directed towards me. I identify:
“I was a little excited but mostly blorft. “Blorft” is an adjective I just made up that means ‘Completely overwhelmed but proceeding as if everything is fine and reacting to the stress with the torpor of a possum.’ I have been blorft every day for the past seven years.”
Sometimes, even if just for a brief minute, I stew. I stew in my blorft attitude and I wonder why.
Even now, I sit in Guatemala once again and I say “Alright, I’m quite done.This day has finished me. Life, I need you to slow your roll, I don’t need you to stir the pot any more.” And simple as that, my why’s come back.
The result of a weary soul and body, and “the plan” never going right… questions.
Why do I care about my job?
Why do I care if what I do makes a difference?
Why do I throw myself entirely into this?
Why does is run me ragged?
Why don’t I just stop?
And just when the why’s, the stress, the struggle, the fatigue is so convincing and I start to see the glint of their victory in my life…
These faces make their way out of my archives….
And I see that day, that problem, that frustration, that exhaustion, that decision that I’m struggling through, as just a piece of the future.
Their futures. That are much more fragile than my weariness.
This week, we blog, live from Guatemala.