The Wall

I had a day where I was just sitting in silence and couldn’t make myself care enough to start the next task. Not because I’m lazy. Not because I had nothing to do. God knows there’s always something to do. It was more like my whole system just stalled. That happens sometimes. Grief drains not just emotion but momentum. You look at the dishes, the papers, the laundry, the emails, and instead of choosing a starting point your brain just goes blank. Like it refuses to submit more labor to a life it didn’t consent to. Then comes the self-talk. Get up. Move. Be productive. Don’t be a wreck. The kids need you. The house needs you. Work needs you. And maybe eventually I move. But I hate that even resting isn’t restful. It’s loaded. It’s guilty. It feels like failure when really it’s probably just a fried nervous system begging for a damn break.