Crash

So, there is this thing that can happen after one gets back from a conference that is inspiring, uplifting etc. It’s usually called Con Drop or some such.  Probably happens after any sustained event that keeps your adrenaline up for more than a few hours (weddings, funerals, births, festivals).

It’s normal to crash, so I usually build myself a day of reintegration time as part of my vacation planning.

This time it was not to be. I hit the ground hard for the work I do with the lovely ladies of Bedpost Confessions, emailing all the people I met at the conference and making spreadsheets and notes (and shaking the trees for some gigs too!). Also, I caught up on some Ladies Are Funny Festival work and got to work on some pieces for The Good Men Project.

Also, there are some interesting and quite stressful dynamics going on with some other work in my life, not much to discuss here, but it’s had a significant impact on my emotional life. Then of course there are some other “what if’s” going on with my husband’s world as well, so we are knee deep in uncertainty.

One of those stressors would have been relatively easy to deal with. None of them are that big of a deal their own and frankly all are mostly positive.  But all of those things have added up to me feeling fully exhausted, sick, emotional and just plain drained.  

Part of the problem is that I’m aware of how much work there is to be done, and by work I mean the activism and advocacy for humans to have access to information on their bodies, how they work, the fight for the right to that knowledge and autonomy and pleasure. The push for the widest avenue and access to birth control options, better access to erotic literacy and communication, and the understanding that anyone entering into a sexual relationship (no matter the gender combination) has the right to honesty, compassion, pleasure, bodily autonomy and information and the RESPONSIBILITY to offer that back to their partner. And how it relates to Civil RIghts. Peace. Human Rights. I’ve got a fire under me at the moment, and I”m aware that I can’t do it all, and that I am smack dab in the middle of middle age, thus, not that much time left.

So I don’t rest. Which is fool hardy. And it doesn’t look like much stress from the outside, but it’s manifesting like big stress that’s for sure. Which in a way, is good? Because at least I know how much it means to me.

And I guess what I need to do, since I have this fire under me, is figure out the best way to stoke it, the best way to use it to light torches or candles or some overworked light metaphor so that I can keep figuring out not only when to do this work, but how. 

 

 

 

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