Pain is so very isolating.
Mix that with being alone, and it is the recipe for a long day. I’ve been having too many of them.
Currently unemployed, and I am still in transition from one place to another. I have the grace of my family keeping me going, and the hope that things will shift and settle into place for me at any given time.
Two months is just a blink, I know. I’m so ready to get going with things. I’m ready to embrace my calling and to live my life fulfilling whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing. Now..what is it that I’m supposed to be doing again?
Therein lies my big question.
What am I supposed to be doing? I scream it towards the heavens. God, tell me what to do!
(and with a laugh I say, “Please?”)
It’s not easy like that. It never is. There comes a point where you just have to start going. Momentum is important. Like watching the dudes in those World’s Strongest Man competitions pull a cement truck with a rope. They key is momentum. Being super freakin’ strong also helps.
I’ve had so much time to sit around and think and think and think.
I often don’t feel very strong, at least what a person would need to pull a cement truck.
Being in between is a purgatory of sorts for me. Neither here nor there, awaiting some sort of judgment from the higher ups. And I’ve been that way for a while. Not just in Mississippi, but since that big shift occurred in my life.
Granted, I am making forward motion, very slowly. Some days I am left alone with a few voices in my head telling me I will not amount to anything, and that I will dissolve into oblivion. You should know by now that I’m being dramatic. I also know these voices aren’t my true self. They are though, the weakest and most vulnerable of voices that I acknowledge from time to time.
I have a place I will be moving to in a few weeks, and I am beyond excited to create a home there. It’s my own space. Something I haven’t had for a while, and that I consider a great privilege. I’m excited to be able to have a dinner party, plant some herbs, and ferment vegetables on top of my refrigerator. (Sounds like a proper bachelor’s pad!)
When I visited the space, it was currently occupied by a college kid. It smelled like two week old damp towels and Axe body spray, but I looked past it all and saw what it could be.
I suppose I do that with any space I’m given. I’m lucky that I’ve been given the tools to create a good space for myself wherever I am. Social interactions don’t nearly exhaust me like they used to because of this space I create for myself. Maybe because I’m more aware of myself in the larger scheme of things, and it allows me to connect without making it all about me.
I am doing a lot of work on myself.
Being alone, as much as it hurts sometimes, is good. It makes me feel strong when all other signs tell me I’m weak and lazy.
Put me in a place where this is love and an inch will go a mile.
Starting over. Hrm. Not quite.
Adding on, maybe. Readjusting. Stretching and moaning, with the occasional grinding of teeth.
Setting the broken bone is quick, but the healing takes time. Small moves, but substantial.
If any of you ever find yourself in the middle of Mississippi, I have a place at the table for you.
I’ll feed you something I’ve been wanting to try, and I’ll show you a southern sunset, which is most particularly beautiful in these parts. I’m not sure why.
I’ll be sitting on my back doorstep, barefoot with a hot cup of PG Tips and quiet tune in the back,
and it will be so good to see you.