scylla and charybdis

i may no longer allow my mind to dwell upon my usual worries, those concerns over my future that so often assemble to form a beast who haunts my consciousness and, upon occasion, grows strong enough, ugly enough to freeze my heart in a silent, hopeless fear.

no; no more of this, for today i got a full-on description of what my year at work will be like.

holy crap.

i'm paralyzed and numb. too much so to be afraid or even to throw up. (i'm not leaving the barf bucket behind, though.)

arriving home this afternoon i got this feeling in my chest, this sort of "i'm supposed to be panicking and worried about something, but there's absolutely nothing that will help, nothing i can do" feeling. i can't even consult an algorithm or formulate a plan (as is my habit) to provide me some comfort.

i guessed at that moment that this is what helplessness must feel like. up until now i've been playing in the water, splashing about, learning to swim and dive. i've trained in swift currents and gotten stronger. now i'm encountering this sudden whirlpool, this maelstrom, this all-consuming, swirling vortex of torment. i am going to be pulled in by a powerful undertow, submerged, my head battered upon rocks beneath the surface as i am dragged hither and thither like a rag doll, not to come up to surface for a year. a year. after which time i will be expectorated.

relief? perhaps briefly. but then— twice more. this will last for three years.

i've never felt like this before. never ever.

then again, i've never faced two such horrible monsters in my life.