Month: October 2016

     I am retired, so how can I feel so overwhelmed?!

Let’s blame it on television, the internet, social media, the Republicans, the Democrats, the liberal media, the Tea Party, 24/7 news, my kids, my husband, my 89 year-old dad, guns, toxins, gluten. Whatever.  There is too much “too much” in my world.

I may start my day at 6 a.m. and “sit ugly” with coffee, prayers, meditation, and a  casual list of things to do. I may write a letter or a thank you card.  I will read from Billy Collins’ Poetry 180. I  will walk my dog at 7:08.  Now my coffee is as strong as my spirits …until more of my world wakes up or I open my laptop.

It is all too much!

Facebook minutia floods my head.  I have way too many “friends” and I don’t know the difference between a notification and a news feed and that’s alright by me.

Later in the day the TV bombards me with too much:  DirectTV, Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, and way too many shows recorded for my viewing pleasure.  All of my choices seem cool in theory, but we do NOT have enough time.  And the last time I binge-watched a show (Bloodline), I felt worn out and lazy and guilty and sort of sleazy.  Too many choices add to my “overwhelmedness.”

Also, the options of Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and such overwhelm me.  I strive to stay connected with close friends and my three grown sons and my bro and my sis; however, at times  it is too, too much.

At times I feel like the blind cat Cupid I had as a child.  He was once attacked by a pack of wild dogs in the middle of the night, and my dad awoke to growling and shrieking in our backyard to find three dogs fighting over Cupid with either a tail or a leg in each of their mouths.  Dad shot his hunting rifle into the air and the dogs scattered.  The next morning Cupid was gone, and my parents tried to help me handle my loss.  But five days later, Cupid came limping home, so we cleaned his wounds and pampered him as much as a semi-wild outside tabby would let us.  And Cupid lived to be huge and happy for years and years.

So what in the rifle shot that will set me free and allow me to crawl into the fields and lay low and nurse myself back to a place of sanity and calm?

Just unplug and drop out, some say.  Perhaps that’s my answer, except for my music (my balm that heals all wounds).  I’ll have my paper and pen and books and I’ll stay “close to home.”  I’ll pull back from social engagements and social media.  I’ll focus on my big writing project and give it the time and attention it is insisting it really, really needs.

May I not explode or implode from this overwhelmed feeling!  My “rifle shot” may be the ink on this page.  I may not fully retreat from people and responsibilities, but I just might achieve a simple sort of balance to let me slip away just a lil bit.