I am living on autopilot


I am yanked from my dreams to the sound of my alarm. Dread fills my body and I am immediately burdened with hundreds of pounds of weight trapping me in my bed. In seek of relief I hit snooze; once, then twice. I stand up, and it takes over. Bathroom, closet, mirror, downstairs. 

I briefly shake myself from the haze to find myself walking through the hallway. I remember small talk on the bus but can’t identify being truly present this morning. Without any instruction, my feet take me to where I need to be. I join a group of friends just to make the same conversation each morning.

I am a prisoner to my schedule. I go where I am needed and say what I have to. I memorize the required knowledge then dump it from my conscious. There is no extra thought necessary. I find myself thinking of anything else but the topic of today’s lesson. I do what I need to get by. 

The same haze follows me to practice. I complete the drill, socialize with teammates, and go through the motions. I am once again a servant to my commitments. The haze follows me home. Worksheets are completed and reading is done. I know I’m not learning or retaining these facts, but it does not change my habits. When all of my homework is completed or answers are filled in, it lifts. But before I can enjoy my time, I’m exhausted and in bed.

The haze fogs my vision. My future is foggy, and my goals are hard to make out. It keeps me from even seeing myself. I don’t know how to send it away or how to move around in it. I can’t remember when it arose, it clouds around my happy memories of school and activities. All I can do is get through to another day of the same monotonous fog.

Yet it’s comforting and familiar. It wraps around me with a warmth so hard to pull myself away from. I am told to cherish my high school years, but the haze keeps me from seeing my finish line.  

I have minuscule pockets of memories in school that shine past my haze; days that stick out and break the monotony. These are the pockets that help me push through the haze and shake myself awake. I’m slowly understanding my haze and how it works. What I have learned is that it is controlled by me. I know I can get through it, but it’s just going to take more effort. 

My haze won’t keep me from being present in my own life.