Tag Archives: understanding

Secrecy

Oh, I can’t explain. When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvelous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one’s life.

-Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Tagged , , , , , ,

Motionless

I really thought today would be better. I thought I’d be smarter, more confident, more motivated.

I woke up wrestling the same demons that plagued me days before. Right now, as I reflect, I’m trying to draw out what has been helpful these past two months. I’m also been weeding out what has been hurtful.

I’m so thankful for a husband who allows me reflect and recuperate. During all of this “sabbatical” he’s willingly slaved away so we could still survive. He is truly one of a kind.

Also, I’ve realized a month away from busy and obligated is probably the most helpful time frame. Now that I’m counting down month two of not working so hard, I’m to the lazy, apathetic stage. What once had a purpose is now very much irrelevant. Yes, one month is healthy. Any more than one month is just plain lethargic.

I have a few money-making opportunities in the works. I am also waiting to see whether or not my efforts toward a certain something have been in vain. My gut tells me no way. My impatience fills me with doubt. Soon, this waiting game will be over…

 

Tagged , , , , ,

A Constant Fog

They were holding hands as they entered the fog. His grip was tight on her petite hand. We can do this, she thought. As long as we cling to one another we can do this. As she was allowing all of her doubt and insecurities pass, she noticed his grip loosening.

“Sweetheart, what is happening?” she asked.

“Nothing babe. I just heard something, I might need to check it out; see if everything is ok. Wait here.”

Before she could respond, his hand slipped away from hers. She had to stay still, to stay calm. He would be back any moment. Though the fog was thick and pressing, she noticed something standing a few feet ahead of her. She knew it wasn’t him, but for some reason it seemed to draw her near. She stepped toward the figure. “Stop!” Her mind screamed. With a deep breath, she ignored the impulse. He’ll be back any moment. It wont matter if I take a few steps ahead.  It appeared to be another person, another man. Maybe he knows the way out of the fog. Maybe he can help us.

“Hello,” she feigned confidence, but her voice reflected her unsure reality. The man extended his hand to hers. She reluctantly accepted his offer. Her mind immediately interjected, “What are you doing?? How will he find you if you’ve wandered? He is your protection. How can he protect you this way?” She silenced her thoughts by reminding herself that he walked away from her. His hand slipped away first.

There was something strange about the grip this man, this thing, held on her. She kept giving a little more, taking a few more steps. She kept silencing her mind until she could barely hear it screaming at her, until she could barely hear it at all. She continued to battle and justify, whispering things like, “he abandoned me, remember?”

Meanwhile, this figure kept leading her away, further and further from where she once stood. The fog has only become thicker, more dense. She can taste it. It is suffocating. Despite all of her attempts, the figure does not respond to her or her questions. It only continues to lead her deeper into what she cannot comprehend. She meant to find freedom and she is only more deeply entangled. Then the something stops. It drops her hand and simultaneously disappears.

At this point the fog is too heavy. She falls to the ground. “Where is he?” The sobs begin to rack her body as she realizes she is the problem.

If only he would speak. Then she could find him.

If only he would motivate himself to look, to search, to fight. Then he would find her.

If only he would cling to her as tight as he did when they entered the fog, then they could survive this; together.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

2013

Fresh. New. Possibility. Adventure. Alive.

I can almost feel these words as I think them. The psychological and ideological approach to the new year is not new, nor is it realistic, but it sure is fun. It’s fun to imaginatively pack up 2012. A memory just the right size to put in that box over there and, here, this one will fit too. That one memory gets shoved into the “never again box.” The NA box will be thrown out completely, burned, and hopefully we’ll lose sight of the ashes.

On NYE we construct new boxes. We fold them just right, we decorate them too. These boxes are created in the form of wishes, dreams and resolutions. These boxes are always much better than the used, sometimes ugly boxes of the years past. I realize I’m a day or so late in constructing my own box for the new year, but I wasn’t feeling the drive to create until now.

Mine is far more abstract than it has ever been before. The rules which dictated my dos and don’ts are loosely embraced this year. I’ve flung aside the brown cardboard that told me exactly how my experiences should appear and exactly what I will do to create them. This year’s ideas are merely suggestions.

Some suggestions I will paint on the outside of the box include: creatively existing, less do-ing/ more experiencing, a transition into better health, allowing myself to live by my own advice and learning to feed my soul.

Near the close of 2012, I shed the thought that my life had to seem a certain way. I too sensitively listened to everyone’s plans and thought I had to have my very own plan (and it had to look like every other plan). Sometimes my life will look radically different than anyone I can name, and that is OK. This epiphany birthed the choice to quit my job and purposefully not focus on the inevitable question of, “what’s next?” This decision has ignited so much feeling of freedom within my being. This decision has allowed me to entertain the world of possibility that lies ahead. I don’t want to be slave to the “have-tos” and I am embracing the “want-tos” and the “wouldn’t it be amazings?”

I know this year will be chalked-full of adventure and I cannot wait to share the “what’s next?” as it evolves into existence.

Here’s to a less complicated and more holistic new year. CHEERS.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,