Herr, lehre doch mich

I think I've finally figured out the correct metaphor for how I've been feeling.

It's as if there is an elephant sitting on top of my soul.

And though I'd benefit from talk therapy, physical therapy, massage therapy, grief counseling, and many other varieties of therapy, what I could probably most use is a shamanic healer.

Is this just another bump in the road in grad school? Is existential crisis part of the routine?

There are books staring at me from across the room. Can I open them? What am I so afraid of?