Two months of war in Ukraine made it impossible for me to write. In the time when, it seems, it’s only natural to try and capture everything you feel, i was paralyzed by the absurdity and the hell of war, and unable to put anything down on paper. Maybe the shock is wearing off. I’ll write bit by bit, unimportant things, as the important ones keep being stuck in my throat, and the pain and the tears and the analysis of it all — just impossible.

I’m in a hurry all the time. I’m doing one thing, and thinking about the next, almost always counting time, how much I have left till the next activity. Even as I’m relaxing with a book, or a cup of tea, or both, I think, 15 more minutes, or 40 more minutes — and I already feel sorry, as if I’m in that moment ahead, where I have to stop and do something else, something that is a must and not a nice-thing-for-myself. This probably takes away half of my relaxing experience, but that is all I know. All I’ve ever known, really. “I have to” dominates my life emotionally, even though mentally I know that I’m a lucky one with a lot of “I get to.”

How do I switch? Why am I like this?