13.09.2026 Diary XIII Staring at the wall

13.09.2026 Diary Page XIII

Sometimes the most happens in the moment when we look as if we are doing nothing.

Today I stared at the wall.

I do not know for how long. Five minutes, twenty minutes? You know by now that I do not feel time, so I cannot even guess. What I know is this: at some point I sat down, my eyes caught on the wall and I stayed like that for a while.

There was nothing on the wall. No picture, no stain, no shadow. A flat, light-coloured wall.

And I looked at it.

How it looks from outside

Afterwards I thought about what someone would think if they saw me at that moment.

Sitting there blankly. Doing nothing. Wasting time. Maybe they would ask “did something happen?” Maybe “don't you have anything to do?”

I had moments like this as a child too. In class, at home, on the way somewhere. Suddenly I would get stuck on a point. “Where did you drift off to?” “Are you listening to me?” “Daydreaming again?”

I was a quiet child. I did not make a mess. But I drifted off. For years those driftings were described as “dreaminess.” After the diagnosis I learned that some of these driftings were about attention, and some were about other things.

But today, looking at the wall, I did not think about any of this. I just looked.

What happens inside

Afterwards I tried to understand what was happening while I stared at the wall. Because I am not sure that “nothing” was going on inside.

Sometimes staring at the wall is a freeze. There is so much to do in front of me that I cannot tell where to start. The brain sees all the doors at once and cannot open any of them. A kind of short circuit. This is called task paralysis. I know what I need to do, I want to do it, but I cannot start. And my body, meanwhile, stares at the wall.

Sometimes staring at the wall is an overflow. The day has been very loud, I have talked a lot, made a lot of decisions, looked at screens a lot. The mind fills up and at some point needs an empty surface. A flat wall may be exactly what it is looking for. No stimulus, no demand, no question.

And sometimes staring at the wall is thinking. The wall becomes a screen and things turn on it that even I cannot see yet. The pieces of an idea, the echo of a conversation, the weight of a decision. Then suddenly I get up and I have solved something, without knowing how I solved it.

I do not know which one it was today. Maybe all three at once.

Not everyone who stares at a wall is in a void. Some are full, some are frozen, and some are thinking.

Being ashamed of staring at the wall

What made me think was not my staring at the wall but what I felt afterwards.

When I got up there was a small shame inside me. “What were you doing all that time?” “You could have finished that in the meantime.” “Look, you've scattered again.”

I see staring at the wall as a loss. As proof of inefficiency, of disorder, of lack of discipline.

But today I asked myself: is it really a loss?

If I had frozen, the wall was telling me something: there is too much, pick one. If I had overflowed, the wall was telling me something: stop, some space is needed. If I was thinking, the wall was working already.

In all three cases staring at the wall gives me information. Maybe I can listen to it instead of covering it with shame.

Looking at a screen and looking at a wall

I noticed one more thing.

In those moments of staring at the wall I did not reach for my phone. Usually I do. The moment there is a gap my hand goes to the phone, I scroll something, read something, check a notification. The gap fills at once.

Today it did not fill.

And afterwards I felt lighter. If I had spent those twenty minutes with the phone, I would probably have stayed with the same tiredness and a few new stimuli would have been added on top.

Maybe staring at the wall is a form of rest that an overstimulated mind finds by itself. And looking at the phone is a habit that takes that rest away.

I am not saying this as a scientific claim. It is only that today it happened this way for me.

Noticing the freeze

For the wall moments where there is a freeze, I want to remind myself of something.

When I notice I am frozen, telling myself “come on, get up, start” mostly does not work. On the contrary, the freeze deepens as the pressure increases.

What might work is a smaller question: “What is the smallest thing I can do right now?” Opening a single file. Writing a single sentence. Listing the tasks in front of me on a piece of paper. Without tearing my eyes completely from the wall, just one step.

And this: sometimes the way out of a freeze is movement. Getting up to drink some water, opening the window, walking a little around the room. When the body moves, the mind stirs from somewhere too.

What the wall said

While looking at the wall today I had no definite thought in my head. But now, writing this entry afterwards, I think the wall told me something.

Slow down.

Do not fill every gap. You do not have to produce every moment. Sometimes looking at a flat, empty, silent surface may be the only thing the mind needs to pull itself together.

And this too: do not be afraid of looking at yourself. When you look at the wall you are also looking a little inside yourself. Even if you do not understand right away what is there.

Tomorrow I may stare at the wall again. This time I will try to look without shame.

And while looking I will ask myself a single question: did I freeze, did I overflow, or am I thinking?