Desynchronize from standard time frames and surprising opportunities may present themselves.
Like momentary lapses of sanity. They are too few and far between these days.
I’ve been desynchronizing of sorts. I’ve been on a low dose of Zoloft for about two years now. Gaining 20 lbs (which is a side effect), I decided to ween myself off over a few weeks. Then I realized why I was on it. Bill, being the awesome husband that he is, was patching walls and painting while I was at work. I usually do the painting.
I could feel the my chest tighten. I tightened my jaw, took a long slow deep breathe. It was all out of order. I do the painting. The walls still needed patching and sanding. I do the painting.
It looked lovely. The color of the sky at dusk. I had to use everything in me to fight off the anguish I was feeling over something I knew was utterly trivial.
It’s fine. I can still patch. I can still sand. And when I paint those patched areas, I can run a roller over all the walls. It’ll be fine. It looks fine now, but in my mind, it’s not enough. Three coats of paint. Maybe two, with a good roller.
There are hairline streaks at the ceiling where the old blue peeks through. I can see each and every one. Glaring at me. Taunting me.