For a long time, I used this space as a safe place to sound off and order my thoughts, to mend the rough mental path I was on. At one point, I totally found my way through the darkness and, I think, with some work, I'll get there again. When I reread those posts, I stumble through all those life changing realizations, only to come to the understanding that I am not happy. Not now. Not today.
Well, that's depressing to see in this Georgia font so plain and out there.
Allow me to follow up with an amendment to that unpleasant factoid, I do have happy moments - sometimes often, sometimes many, but at the core of my everyday life, I am not happy. I am exhausted and worried, frustrated and lost. And honestly, I think this is how a lot of people feel. I do not think I am exceptional in my uncertainty or unique in my weariness. Quite the opposite, really. I think I am like most people. I am bumbling along, not sure what I am doing, trying to make a better situation for myself, holding out hope it will change, and I am making the right decisions. I don't know, though, not for sure.
The funny think about happy moments? Those glimmering moments of happiness and freedom, the shiny spots in an otherwise scuffed and worn out life, are enough ... for now. Eventually, they will stop being enough, and I am hoping I can find my way back to peacefulness before they cease helping me out of bed and putting me to sleep.
This is not a red flag. One does not need to send the cavalry to help, or post me care packages, nor do you have to fret over whether I will be okay. Because isn't that what we do? We push and pull through, we figure it out and solve the puzzle, we work through it.
It's like boiling water. How you set a pot on the stove, turn on the heat and think to yourself how much time you have before it boils. You go off to fold the laundry, sweep the house, or open a small business, and when you come back those miniature bubbles are forming, and you think, "Boy, it takes a long time for water to boil, I'll go finish up a few other things." So, you set to it, trying to get as much done as you can, even though you know there is a pot on the stove, and it is going to boil. I mean, it's a certainty, barring the electric being shut off, or you running out of gas, if you have one of those types of ranges - you know that water is going to boil. Except, somewhere between driving a thousand kilometres a week, working six of the last seven days, and trying to prepare for the unpreparable (not a real word), you've forgotten about the pot and, low and behold, it's boiling over, the water spilling down the sides and hissing out its anger on the unforgiving element. You run for it, to take it off the heat, salvage the water inside, but sometimes it boils dry and you ruin a perfectly good pot.
Well, my water is boiling over. And this post is me running to shut off the heat and save a perfectly good pot. As I sit here in my truck, parked at the side of the road, watching the sun and smelling the ocean, I know life isn't terrible, but that doesn't stop it from feeling terrible at times. Sometimes I simply hate self reflection.
