tom's blobs

Public Mastication

I’ve been chewing on a thing for a minute now. When I was getting into the whole #DESIGN thing, I wrote a message to some Telegram groups saying hey y’all, I’m doing web stuff let’s collaborate. A few people responded, we had some back-and-forth but when it came to taking the next step and talking more in person… I bailed.

For the last x weeks I’ve been meaning to reply to these people. The item that I put on my daily todo lists has evolved from reply to telegram ppl through reflect on why I’m not responding to the telegram ppl to give the telegram folks a response, even if it’s no,

I’ve reflected in private several times, but the chats are still as unanswered as they were 2 months ago. So I come here to process in public, in a hail-mary-attempt to get unstuck and throw this weight off my mind.


I’ve come as far as opening these chats and placing the cursor in the write-something-box. I remember a feeling of weakness and fear overcoming me. Strange how that tiny an action can have such an effect in my body.

They were quite intense sensations: a fear unfurling in my stomach, crawling up to my throat (when I let it). There was heat and tension around my neck and shoulders. I felt stressed.

But the crux of the thing seems to be a sense of being lost. Even after taking time to listen to these feelings, and many a journaling session, I am not clear on what these feelings are telling me and I have little sense of what I want to do.

I can already feel that after I finish writing I’m probably gonna reply to these people (edit: I have). I will apologize for the delay and ask if they’re still interested in meeting. Something in me is sighing. I sat for a while trying to understand, but nothing answered. I’m left not knowing what’s going on with me and my body, feeling the numb distress of a cramp in my solarplexus.

A more fundamental confusion mixed in here: what do I use as a compass, if I can’t read my body?


Addendum: A muddy stuckness

I’ve been here before. The pattern I see so far: