if I could tell you stories

That moment where I realize I’m at the bottom of the page, and I honestly have no idea what I just read.  Perhaps you can relate.

I have been so easily distracted lately.  Not only is my mind constantly forgetting things, even meetings or events. But it also effortlessly wanders off into meandering wonderings.

At daily Mass, for example, as I’m kneeling, preparing to go up for communion, I glance at the minister of the cup and think, “whoa, he looks like he’s gained at least 10 pounds!”—and there goes the my attention down the trail of errant thoughts.

I am aware that a lot of this is temporary. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to realize that my mind—much like the rest of “me”—has experienced an overload of deep, intense, and life-changing moments and emotions.  How can I feel both overloaded and empty?

I know it’s going to take a while. Much like healing from a surgery, in this mourning, shifting, and grief, there is no substitute for time.

So on days like today, when it is, literally, impossible for me to remain concentrated on any one thing; I make a new plan of action.

·               I give myself a break. I begin by stopping any and all negative/dismissive/judgmental language about myself. You know the kind, those demeaning statements that always imply I should be doing better.

·               If I have an important task that must be completed, I slow down, take notice of what I’m thinking—or where I got distracted, and simply go back to the original process. As the PHOX song says, “Everything I do I do in slow motion.”

·               When possible, like at Mass!—I close my eyes. This simple act makes my other senses pay more attention.

·               At prayer, or sometimes when I’m in bed with too many things flying around inside my head, I hold a small cross or a crucifix in my hand and gently touch it with my fingers. Again, it alerts my other senses and helps me focus.

·               And did I mention I give myself a break? With temperatures and the heat index over a hundred, I can’t go outside as much as I’d like. But the Oklahoma evenings still allow me to sit under the stars, or go on a late night walk with my hubby.

Would you believe me if I told you that I sat down to write a blog post about music? 

Ah, well… maybe the next one!