A curious thing happened this past week. There’s been a project at work I’d been chipping away at for the better part of the summer, its due date way off and other more pressing tasks assuming priority in the meantime.
In those moments when I’d had a second to breathe, a moment to take a break and assess the world around me, to take a look at the big picture, all I saw was a roadblock, some kind of mental inertia in the way. And it was nearly immovable. No clear path forward. Maybe there was something missing that, upon its discovery, would set me moving, like a bullet out of a gun.
I don’t know what it was. A switch flipped. The floodgates blew open. I put my pen to paper (or mouse to computer, as it were), figuratively rolled up my sleeves and dived into the torrent.
This was Thursday. I cannot flip back. I’ve spend no fewer than eight hours every day, most of it in forcing this project toward completion. Yes, that includes Saturday and Sunday. It doesn’t even phase me right now. I’m in some kind of zone, an ultra-productivity vortex with no end in sight. It’s unreal the leaps forward I’ve made in the last week and I don’t know what it will take to pull me back. If I can even do that.
The weird part is I’m not even stressed. Not a little bit. One might think that would happen, what with work consuming the wasted hours of my personal life. I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve never been here before. I can only assume I’m taking another step forward, otherwise, well, this is kind of sad.