Into the arctic vortex

Just a note to my handful of occasional readers that I expect posting to be lighter than usual through the month of January. I am almost packed, I have a few more errands that I have forgotten to run, and at an excruciatingly early hour tomorrow morning I will be groggily boarding an airplane for Chicago to attend winter convocation and the intensives for my classes this term.

I think I am out the other side of anxious frenzy and into a sort of glassy-eyed exhaustion at this point. All the things. I need to do ALL THE THINGS. And they are not all going to get done, and it will not be perfect, or okay, or even good enough, and I guess I will just have to disappoint people (especially myself) and muddle through anyway. There is not enough space in my luggage to pack for every contingency; there is not time in my schedule to prepare everything I need to have prepared, let alone the things I wanted to have prepared; and I am again frayed and thin around the edges.

I am fighting with perfectionism. I am fighting with the monster that beats me up when I think I might ought to ask for help. I am pretty sure I am doing things wrong, but I don’t know how else to do them: an imperfect human being in a cold broken world.

We muddle through. What else is there?

I am looking forward to being in my beloved community. Even if I haven’t packed enough kleenex.

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