Night falls, kids tucked in bed. My time.
And I'm wasting it. Over and over and over again.
I turn on a radio program and play word games on my iPod. I flip on a movie. I read a book.
I have so little creative time, so little work time. I should be much more efficient with those precious after-bed hours.
And just like when I rashly opt for junk food and fill my body with trash and deeply regret the decision an hour later, so too has my brain rot been catching up with me.
I go to bed exhausted and disappointed with myself. I awake fresh and bright with promises to use my mind in better ways that night.
And come evening I once again find myself mentally and emotionally and physically spent.
It's been two weeks since I wrote here, which is the really telling sign that my mind is on auto-pilot. I haven't had a creative thought in two weeks, nor a parenting moment I wished to celebrate, nor an idea to explore.
It spills over into the day. I'm hot tempered and have lost all patience. The introvert in me is screaming all day and all I want to do is hike away up a mountain and camp out in the silence.
I have a good ration of alone time, a healthy dose of music making, enough spiritual food and time in adult company. And yet I feel like I'm starving for more and more and more.
I hope it's just the extra long winter. I've always been tied to the weather and we've had an unusually cold April. It snowed today. We've barely been into double digit temperatures. Yes, perhaps what I really need is a good dose of sunshine.