A curious inability to focus

I don’t have anything profound to say lately, and it’s super unsettling. I’ve been flitting from thing to thing, rather than diving deep in any one area. I can’t put my finger on exactly why.

I’ve started reading three different books (maybe four?) but haven’t really gotten into any of them.

I’ve had ideas for blog posts—exploring the deep sense of mortality I felt when I was with my aunt and uncle at Thanksgiving, who are nearing the end of their lives; talking about how I’m experimenting with coaching methods as a manager to help my team; going super-meta and trying to figure out why I can’t stay focused long enough on one thing to really get to the juicy stuff.

But whether I’m sitting down to read, or to write, or even to meditate, there’s been an energy that won’t let me be fully engaged.

I’m going to work on not seeing this as a bad thing, but rather, as a clue that I need to investigate something further. What am I distracted by? Or more likely, what am I avoiding?

Reframing things this way helps me quiet all (ok, some) of the judgement and shitty self-talk I can very easily throw at myself. I’m not “bad” or “failing” because I can’t focus. It’s just the state of being I’m currently in. I’ve been here before, I’ll be here again. My work isn’t to shame or blame myself, it’s to accept it and get curious.

So here I am, writing about my inability to write. There’s something curious there, for sure.

Let’s see what unfolds from here.