Idle Asheville

on

When I woke up this morning, I really had no direction or desire to point myself into a direction.  It’s the first Saturday in a long time that I don’t have a plan.  My OCD doesn’t allow for much down time, even though it’s necessary AND I actually enjoy down time on occasion.  It’s definitely been a morning of reflection, wondering if I’m on the right track, thinking of ways to get on the right track, and hoping my temporary insanity is in fact, temporary.  The unsettled feeling I’ve had since moving to Asheville is even more unsettled than before, and the question mark looming over my head is inflating.  If nothing else, I might be able to use it as a flotation device when the water rises above my head…because it’s coming.

It’s hard to see the forest for the trees, and even harder to wrap my head around the fact that EVERYONE is struggling.  I don’t know if I should feel relieved or sad, because everyone I’ve come in contact with today is STRUGGLING.  It’s the way of the world, I guess.  I’m definitely not naïve, but I’ve failed to remember just how hard life is for everyone.  I’m not the only person having a tough day.  I’m not the only person finding it hard to get out of bed sometimes.  I’m not the only person struggling to find meaning in unfortunate circumstances.  We are all searching for ways to adapt to this thing called “life”, and every day we are taken to a different place.  It is what it is.

My dad and I have rarely had moments of true, emotional conversation.  This changed during the time my mother was sick, and after she passed away, and we thankfully had an opportunity to share our heart.  He has always been the quiet one, allowing my mother and I to be outgoing, loud, and animated.  He always internalized his feelings, never really allowing us to see his true emotion.  He just didn’t say much, and I never really understood why, but that was my dad.  This morning, we had a real conversation.

My mama was the talky one.  She always had an opinion and could be counted on to discuss my feelings.  I never saw my father as an emotional outlet, because he just didn’t have the ability to comprehend that stuff.  So, in an effort to let him in my life more, I asked for his advice…and it was actually pretty solid.

So, here I am, with a question mark over my head, a question mark in my heart, and a lot of coffee in my body.  Idle hands on a Saturday in Asheville can be trouble, but I know trouble well.   And I’m good at it.

One Comment Add yours

  1. PJ Ruddy says:

    You are spot on . We are all struggling with life. I have PTSD with Social Anxiety d/o. I try to take the good with the bad. I have found that the bike is always good therapy even with bad days on the bike it’s better than being stuck in my head. I will be pulling for you, hang in there and don’t stop.

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