For a while, I have been having trouble at work. Small mistakes, again and again. Things I ordinarily knew how to do have acquired the peculiar difficulty of a foreign language. Stress magnifies everything, and the medication I was taking seems to complicate matters further. I was struggling in vain to find the right chemical arrangement for a mind increasingly difficult to inhabit.
Eventually, I had what might politely be called a psychological break. Work became frightening. Ordinary failures assumed the proportions of omens. I was exhausted, ashamed, and increasingly unable to distinguish the immediate problem from everything I imagined it meant.
I have since recovered... somewhat.
The circumstances have improved. I have found a little more stability, a little more distance from the wreckage, and some sense that a bad season need not become a permanent geography.
So I am going to try again.
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