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  • Writer's pictureRandy Young Green Ghost Media Inc.

Hovering Outside Myself

The Dream and Do Blog, Tuesday, June 25, 2024

by Randy Young

Today I woke up feeling like “Randy in Wonderland.” 

I think they call that dissociation—I don’t ever feel like I'm outside my body, but something about waking up this morning felt utterly foreign. I wasn't in my life; I wasn't in my body. I floated up and down my reel of memories, and I could have dropped myself in... anywhere.

Then, I had several meetings lined up, scheduled to begin an hour after rising from bed, shrouded in this cloak of weirdness: business-business-therapist. The "therapist" part of it all was my safe haven. Thinking about how blessed I am in life tends to bring me a clear mind and a warmth that grounds me. Sometimes, I grab my "support kitten," who neither needs my support nor readily provides it. She has a great sense of boundaries.

I threw on a podcast, made myself an intense double espresso, and popped a caffeine pill on top of my daily vitamins and medications. Then, I sat down to stare at my list of things to do; the calendar, which I didn't have to reference because it actually lives behind my eyelids. I dream about my to-do list. I AM my to-do list. At this point, I have more to-do lists than any man should. Don't get me wrong—I love a list, as much as the next person, but every once in a while, I become overwhelmed with how much I love it. Not that I have so many things to do—hundreds of things—but that I care so much about doing them. These tasks may be life-changing, but not necessarily for the better; at least not at first. Most of the bigger things will make my life more complicated well before it becomes simpler with long-term success.

I think I was sad that often I do things just to do them. The list is my life. I only feel human with a list dictating how to fill my days. Of course, I can be spontaneous, and the mere fact that most days the list remains partially unfulfilled means that I’m jaunted off in other directions, finding things to do other than the ones itemized. But the list is safe, and the list is what most represents "home" for me—more than my family, more than my wife, more than my actual home.

The list is how I define myself, for better or worse.

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