Where would I be without the fall season? Where would I be without the rain, the wind, and the hot coffee sitting on my desk?
Lost, that’s for sure. And not in Seattle.
I don’t think I have felt this kind of inner satisfaction in a long time. The kind that comes from somewhere deep and lovely inside me, where no hate or disdain or even restlessness can touch.
I started writing that early Monday morning when I got into work. The day had started out so promising, but the clouds have left and even though it’s cold out, the sky is clear once again. I don’t know why my brain sometimes operates in ‘opposite land’, but where would we be without the rain to renew us?
I called a therapist that day. As weird as it is to type that out, I don’t see it as a personal failure. I am about as in touch with my brain as I could possibly be, I know myself inside and out, forwards and backwards. I know myself so well that I know when it’s time to start talking about what’s been bothering me. I also know that I don’t want to talk to people close to me, because even with the best intentions, they won’t give me what I need. I don’t want to be talked down, or talked up for that matter, I want to be free.
Whatever that’ll look like.
Where I go from this second, onward, I am not entirely sure. How do you explain to people how much you’d love to drop everything and go somewhere new? How much you’d like to start a new life somewhere, especially when nothing in your current life is actually wrong? I can’t explain that mindset, because people don’t understand it, but I have reached the point where I actually do blame them for not “getting it”. And that isn’t really fair. And that’s why I called.
I wish September could last forever.