Understanding the Weight of Inconvenience

Field Notes

An Inconvenience Day

Good morning, standing on the ledge.

Today is one of those weird days where everything feels inconvenient. Not “I’m procrastinating,” not “I’m refusing,” just… inconvenient. Any task I set my mind to feels like it asks more of me than I want to give right now.

Writing in my journal. Doing this blog post. Taking my blood pressure. Checking my blood sugar. All of it feels like: I don’t want to take the time. And the weird part is I don’t even know what I should be doing instead. So I’m stuck in that uncomfortable middle space: I don’t want to do the things, but I also don’t have a clear alternative.

What I can say clearly

  • Everything feels inconvenient right now. Even waiting feels inconvenient.
  • I know these things matter. I’m not arguing with their importance. I’m arguing with the timing.
  • I did one good thing yesterday: I got out, visited people, and socialized outside my usual circle. That helped. It reminded me there’s a world beyond my own mental loop.

What’s sitting on my desk (whether I like it or not)

  • Schoolwork: I’ve been avoiding it, and I need to get back on task. Otherwise I’ve spent money for no reason.
  • Work uncertainty: I’m still waiting for a start date for my job.
  • Contingency planning: I’ve got another potential job lined up and I may apply—because sometimes having more than one option matters. (Not as an exit strategy. More like the opposite: a stability strategy.)
  • Conflict/withholding issue: The company I’m dealing with is still insisting on taking money out of what they owe me without documentation. I emailed my lawyer. I’m waiting.
  • Health logistics: Tomorrow I go for my nerve conduction test down in :contentReference[oaicite:0]{index=0}. Maybe it sheds light. Maybe it’s just carpal tunnel. We’ll see.

A lens for “everything is inconvenient”

Psychologically: this can be what high load feels like when it doesn’t show up as panic. Sometimes stress isn’t loud—it’s heavy. When the system is carrying too much (uncertainty, conflict, health stuff, money pressure, waiting), even small tasks can feel like they have a ridiculous “startup cost.” That doesn’t mean the tasks are wrong. It can mean your brain is conserving energy because it’s trying to manage too many open loops at once.1

This also explains the paradox: I don’t want to do anything… but I also don’t know what I want to do. That’s often what it feels like when motivation isn’t absent, but blocked by friction—decision fatigue, uncertainty, and the mental weight of unfinished business.2

Sociologically: this is also what limbo looks like. Waiting for a start date, waiting on a lawyer, waiting on a test result—those aren’t just “personal feelings.” They’re life structured by institutions and gatekeepers. When your timeline depends on other people’s timelines, your day stops feeling like it belongs to you. That loss of agency can make ordinary self-care feel like a chore you’re doing “in the shadow of” something bigger.3

And then there’s the social layer: when money and legitimacy are contested (documentation, withholding, “prove it”), it creates a kind of ongoing role strain—part person, part case file, part negotiator. That constant switching drains the tank.4

So where do I place this?

I think I place it here: this isn’t laziness, and it isn’t moral failure. It’s a signal. A day where the friction is loud enough that everything costs more than it should.

My job today isn’t to magically feel different. My job is to keep myself from turning “inconvenient” into “derailed.” That means keeping the basics from sliding while I’m in this weird mood.

Post-Closure

  • One receipt: I got out yesterday and socialized outside my normal circle. That mattered.
  • One next step: I will do a small restart on schoolwork (even if it’s just opening it and doing 10 minutes).
  • One boundary sentence: I’m allowed to feel resistance today, but I’m not allowed to abandon the basics.

Tagline: One brick. One breath. One basic. Godspeed.

Footnotes

  1. Lazarus, Richard S., and Susan Folkman. Stress, Appraisal, and Coping. Springer, 1984. ↩
  2. Martell, Christopher R., Sona Dimidjian, and Ruth Herman-Dunn. Behavioral Activation for Depression: A Clinician’s Guide. Guilford Press, 2010. ↩
  3. Mills, C. Wright. The Sociological Imagination. Oxford University Press, 1959. ↩
  4. Goffman, Erving. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Anchor Books, 1959. ↩

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Published by Lugh Sulian

Lugh Sulian Standing on the Ledge · Rebuilding from the Rubble Lugh Sulian is a working name for a working moment. This profile exists to hold Standing on the Ledge: Rebuilding from the Rubble—an ongoing, real-time record of what happens after collapse, when old rules stop functioning and new ones haven’t yet earned trust. This is not myth reenactment. Not spiritual bypass. Not curated healing. It’s a field journal from the threshold. The name Lugh points toward skill, clarity, and responsibility carried with awareness. Sulian gestures toward sight—what can be seen when illusion drops away and pretending becomes too expensive. Together, they frame the posture of this work: to look clearly, act deliberately, and refuse to rebuild what already failed. Through short-form video, spoken reflection, and long-form writing, this project explores: Collapse without spectacle Responsibility without authority Burnout as a systems problem, not a personal flaw Pagan cycles as lived practice, not aesthetic Small fires instead of grand rebuilds This space is intentionally unfinished. It documents: Standing still without freezing Moving forward without rushing Learning from rubble instead of hiding it Unplugged-Pagan.com serves as the grounding—seasonal awareness, ritual stripped of performance, and meaning built from experience rather than doctrine. Standing on the Ledge is one expression of that grounding, focused on the human cost of broken systems and the slow work of rebuilding integrity. This is not a teaching platform. It’s a shared watchpost. If you’re here, you’re likely between versions of yourself—tired, alert, uncertain, and still standing. You don’t need answers yet. You need honesty, boundaries, and permission to move at the speed of truth. No conclusions offered. No certainty promised. Still on the ledge. Still watching. Still working the rubble. Godspeed. Optional Short Versions (for profile headers or bios) Short bio (Facebook / site header): Threshold work. Pagan-rooted, process-driven. Documenting collapse, clarity, and the refusal to rebuild what failed.

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