Powerless

It’s a very strange day. I realize the word “very” has absolutely no value but in this situation it seems a necessary emphasis.

Presently, every second of my existence is totally outside my control. My electricity goes on and off at will, my smoke alarms are beeping and my battery powered kitchen clock has stopped – the second hand incessantly bumps against the “nine” making a monotonous clicking noise that may, in fact, drive me mad before the day ends. The weather has turned cold (and I have no heat, i.e. electrical issues) and the grey weather has interrupted my usual intuitive sense of time. I’m lost.

This week was/is planned as a time for me to distress and relax. The words relaxed and Rebecca never appear in the same sentence, but the pressures and adrenaline overload of the past two-plus years has reached the point where something truly has to give.

I am the quintessential creature of habit. I cope by controlling my surroundings – maintaining a routine – checking items off to-do lists. I always know where I am and where I am going (at least in the short-term). I exist pretty much in solitude (fine, I isolate myself). But I always instinctively know what time it is, where I need to be, when I need to be there and what is expected of me.

At this moment, all of those things are outside my control. As I sit here, the power continually flashes on and of, on and off. The second hand keeps bumping up against the nine. Perhaps this is the Universe telling me it’s time to shake things up. Forcing me to survive on a different plane.

The good part of all this is that I have a book that I am enjoying (although I don’t believe there are enough sticky-flags in the world to mark all the passages I will need to revisit after the first reading). And, I have one plug in the house that works consistently, so I’m not literally in the dark.

Perhaps all my disorientation is a divine plan. Like traveling on a train, at this moment, I cannot see what I have passed or what lies ahead and am left only with the resources to imagine what the future holds.

There seems to be a sweet spot between 9 a.m. and noon, and from 2-5 p.m. where the power actually holds allowing me to return to my comforting routine. Everything in between is a bit unpredictable and chaotic. It is 9:18 a.m. and I find I am no longer holding my breath, my pulse has slowed and the vents are dispensing warmth.

It is just a lull. I remind myself not to get too comfortable – for, as Lou would say, this too shall pass.