Right now I’m experiencing, once again, the separation of my self from the physical reality I’m experiencing. There’s a sensation, like a presence, that is I’m aware of constantly, of not truly being where I actually am. It’s as if I’m the 20-year-old me or the 70 -year-old experiencing the present moment. I feel a deep sense of loss, and I’m very disconnected from the actions I’m taking. The motions of driving the car, going to work, preparing food… It feels like I’m in a play, acting out a script. This all can’t be real. This town and this day and these errands and this life… It just feels so conspired. My sense of loss may be from a lack of spontaneity or joyfulness in the moment, or maybe it’s from something else altogether. I get the feeling that I’m outside of my actual life, looking in. It feels almost like heartbreak, and also like desire. It could simply be a level of anxiety occurring because the chemicals off brain are off. Or it could be a legitimate sense of some other dimension I’m honing into.
Basically, I don’t know. But it’s definitely an uncomfortable feeling, one that makes me want to flee and escape but also succumb. I’m glad I have my daughter to give me purpose as I love through what almost feels like the inconsequential mundane. The shifting of the seasons sometimes unhinges me, much like the hour of twilight before nightfall.