things have been hard lately.
there are moments where i consider running away
and not in the way i meant when i was seven,
where running away meant teepees and wild animals and subsisting off leftover rolls you stashed away in a sack
but in a very real, "might i build a boat and sail far, far away from this?" sort of way.
the sort of way that leaves no trace but a brief goodbye note and an image on the horizon.
i believe in honesty and i think that this space allows for it
and life isn't all daisies, though we wish it were.
raise a glass to lowered inhibitions, everyone.
it's very hard to remain stagnant
and there are days when my spirit feels trapped under my bones.
there are days where the raindrops sound like footsteps and, for a moment, i picture someone
coming to whisk me away to a place i've never even heard of.
i close my eyes and imagine being scooped up
and carried through those raindrops,
getting drenched by the sky,
and saying nothing, but meaning 'yes, this is alright with me' through grabbing tighter onto the person's shoulders and burying my head into their chest
because if i watch how we get to wherever we are going
i might be tempted to go back.
i'm very blessed.
of course, i am blessed.
i experience many first world problems.
i love my husband dearly. i love my dog. i love my family.
i have so much more than so many others.
i really do.
i don't intend to leave all of the lovely things behind.
i just want to escape my own world...
this dirty empire i've somehow created through connections and schedules.
there was a moment the other day where someone asked me if i was able to help them by running across the street from my house, quickly mind you, to lend them something.
i stared at that little screen for a few seconds
and i just lost it
because there was absolutely no way i could fit such a small task in my schedule.
i'm at a very real point in my life where i look around at every temporal thing i have
and i just don't care about it.
i don't care for these clothes
or the tv across from me.
i've fallen out of love with all the beautiful pots + pans we own
and the collection of books i've not yet read.
you could break into my house today and take all of it
and the part of my brain that stimulates tear production wouldn't light up one bit.
i realize this isn't even the tip of the iceberg in this life
and this sounds just like a commercial for cymbalta
but experiencing hopelessness, however mild or severe, is a very real part of life and it's important to share it however you find fit, right?
it's important to note in these situations the passion that remains inside of you
for even the smallest of things.
like where my thoughts wander during a commute...
usually to silly conversations in bed with my husband in the morning before either of us moves a muscle
or the sunflowers he left on the windowsill near my side of the room to burn the grey out of my world,
coming home to a very excited dog who cannot wait to tackle you out on the grass,
and even finding an old beanie you wore in high school that you forgot you had.
everyone looks for a community to share these thoughts with,
a judgement-free community ready to share in the experiences and create some sort of grievance pile in the middle and burn it together in a big, satisfying, metaphysical bonfire
and the truth is that most of us are too scared to pretend that there is that part of you that is capable of throwing sticks into that fire with people who feel the same way you do.
i guess what i'm saying is i hope to be brave enough to throw the first one down
because we are all here shuffling our feet
and all of our minds wander to those raindrop footsteps once in a while.
so raise that glass back up for love
and all the ups and downs we face
and getting real
and sitting back down in our seats when things aren't what we signed up for
and living the next day just a little bit better than today.
it's one hell of a ride, this life.