What to Do When Falling
What To Do When Falling
journal notes
Ugh. I feel so disconnected. Everything is moving too fast.
Part of me keeps trying to respond—to keep up.
Part of me is just… annoyed.
Is this what life has become?
A call-and-response loop on perpetual repeat?
What is happening in our world, by the way?
I don’t understand the humans (says me, the alien).
Let’s make a list.
Drink salty water.
Go to bed by 10 p.m.
Even if you have to listen to Nothing Much Happens for eight hours straight.
Breathe through your side body.
Like a carp stranded on land—big, intentional breaths.
Move your body.
Wiggle your toes.
Clench your butt really hard, then release—one to five times. (You’ll laugh, which is half the point.)
Go outside.
Find a non-human being and look them in the eyes.
Yes, grass has eyes.
Ask that being, “What the Actual Fuck?”
Then—really listen.
Get quiet in your head.
The answer to all your questions is being whispered into your ear.
Remind yourself: this always works.
Don’t worry if you don’t want the answer.
Some wiser part of you does.
If it’s unbearable, call a friend.
Say, “It’s unbearable.”
Say it once. Then let it go—it’s done being said.
No friend nearby?
Grab your favorite soft thing. Hug them. Kiss them. Say, “Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”
Then tell them all your secrets.
Feel everything.
But first, set a timer.
When it goes off, take a break.
Walk. Bathe. Eat something that wakes up your mouth.
Chocolate counts.
Cry.
If you can’t, pretend to cry.
Some part of you will appreciate the effort.
Ask to connect to the network of all consciousness.
Request a sign—a flicker of light, a random beep on your phone.
Wait.
If nothing happens, laugh.
Remember how weird and holy you are, asking your ancestors to beep your phone.
Ask for a story.
From a person, a cat, a tree, a spirit, a god.
Do something for someone else.
No expectation of return.
Put on music.
Dance with the beings who haven’t been born yet.
Stop trying.
To fix. Or solve.
Get quiet again.
Just listen.