Writing the Grief, losing track of time.

I’m back at work today because I was beginning to forget what day it was. Separated from the structure of the five day work week, I began to lose track of which day was which, what I had to do, what commitments I had made. I’m the kind of person who makes a ton of commitments, gets bogged down by them, gets stressed out over them, but almost always completes them and feels good about that. I schedule my life out months in advance. I give time to people, causes, and organizations. Keeping it all organized and together, as well as prioritizing what matters to me and what doesn’t – that is an important component of who I am. Or at least who I think I am.

When my mother died, I dropped everything. I don’t drop everything for anything. Or anyone. But there was never any question that I would cancel all my plans and spend time with my family. The clarity of purpose was brutally sharp.

Now I’m back at work, full of an uncertain future, in a life that I finally feel like I own, and the only thing I want to do is get on schedule again. Start committing. Work harder (or blog harder, in any case). But my work has, for so long, felt like a rut. Why do I keep doing this? Why do I feel like I need this?

Maybe it’s the distraction. Maybe it’s the structure. Maybe it’s because when I get deep into a project, I can feel like I still have both parents. Right now though, I need to get back to work.