Always Verbing, Never Me

My life is so busy at the moment I'm not really living. Merely existing. I'm so busy that I'm always doing something – caring, running, eating, working, designing – I'm always ‘verbing’ but never Gregging. There is no space in between all these things to be me.

My brain only has two states and it constantly rages at me that whatever I'm doing is either wrong or not done enough. Running? Should be working. Working? Should be with the kids. With the kids? Should be writing. Writing? Should be running. Even when I sit still for a moment, I'm thinking about what to do next. Planning. Preparing. Never just being.

It doesn't take more than a few minutes for the uncomfortable feeling to set in when I try to stop. Those tiny pin pricks that raise in intensity, prodding me towards doing something, anything. My attention hasn't wandered and I'm not bored, but my mind will not let me relax. Do something. Be productive. Keep moving.

I've written about this before, about working on my day off because there's nothing else to do. About the restlessness that won't let me switch off. But this feels different. I've crossed a line from being busy into being nothing but motion. There's no me left underneath the doing anymore.

When do I actually think? When do I sit with myself without immediately planning the next thing? I write these posts and tell myself that's my space to exist, but even that's become another task. Another thing on the list. Another verb with Greg attached to it.

I don't know how to exist without doing anymore. I've forgotten what it feels like to just be rather than constantly move to the next thing. The person underneath all the actions has disappeared and I'm not sure how to get him back.