industry 2

I am the queen of industry.

I cannot be still either in body or in mind.

Impelled to move, I organize crayons or wipe the silverware drawer. I dash off to fold clothes or arrange socks in their drawers. I draw, doodle or paint. I scan, alter, upload or download.

It is not so much that I’m compulsive (I can be). My brain smolders with worry. Physical or mental inactivity allows the worries burst into a conflagration.

Today’s fixation is our missing kitty, but I could agonize over anything. Family health issues, driving during the lunch rush, what to cook for dinner, they all seem to take up the same anxious space in my brain.

Poor Kitty, absent for two hours. I visualize kitty’s horrible fate with disconcerting clarity. Cold and shivering, she curls up in an inauspicious place. We find her mummified body in the spring, wretchedly close to rescue. My body clenches with future emotion.

I push worry out of my mind by choosing a tube of acrylic paint and some newspaper.

Twenty minutes later Kitty shows up, bored of her foray into the woods.

I know my imaginings are unrealistic, even in the moment. Nevertheless, I am still swept away. I drown. As long as I clutch a task, I stay afloat. Maniacal thrashing takes over when I let go of that branch. My unoccupied mind needs focus or it fills with ornate details of horrible doom or failure.

Is this autism? A consequence of a high IQ? Mild OCD? Probably some of each.

The ultimate result is an abundance of industry. Wonderful industry. Floating paint across paper is delicious compared to visualizing kitty doom scenarios.

Comments

  1. Mados says:

    it is:-) But your writing is great, it has a strong artistic touch and does sound like the words float out. A pleasure to read.

  2. Sue Aside says:

    Lori, you are indeed a fine writer! I’ve been on a bit of mental vacation for awhile, and I just today got to your blog again. While I love all your posts, this one caught me. It is identifiable; it has hooks. My stomach and jaw clenched, knowing these bursts beneath the skin all too well. I feel for you, and am glad you have the insight to express yourself through the boredom and static electricity in the mind with your industry. It lets me know you are always going to be okay while I am so far away. Know that my friendship and support hovers near you at all times, ready to give that much-needed invisible nod in your direction. I am always glad for your blog.

    You are seen.
    You are kindred.
    You are friend.

    Thank you for this lesson of motion and catharsis.

    • A Quiet Week says:

      Sue,

      Thank you so much for your expressive and heartfelt message. I’ve been trying to come up with a deserving reply for two days, but I only hear peas rattling around in my brain.

      Sigh.

      But, you know–that deep inside knowing that doesn’t need for me to be coherent–you know that I appreciate the connection and understanding.

      I hope your vacation leaves you feeling refreshed and stronger. You brighten up the world for so many of us! 🙂

      Lorifishes

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