It is August and we are midway through the month.
Soon, our side of the world is going to lean away and be farther from the sun. This means that cooler months will prevail and that sooner than we think, it will be the holiday season.
This was interesting to me when I moved through the grocery store last night. I had to get some last minute things and there it was. I noticed the aisles that were filled with Halloween decorations. I see this as an upcoming event which leads to an interesting time of year.
These are the months that are both the coldest and warmest of them all.
I say this for different reasons of course.
Either way, I am here now. Speaking of now – I am trying to find my way.
But my way keeps changing.
It seems that there’s a problem that comes with expectations –
The problem itself is obvious to me because, of course, life is not always what we expect.
So then, now what?
Are you going to tell me to expect the unexpected?
Well?
Is this a way of saying be prepared for disappointments?
Should I not get my hopes up?
But what if hope is all I have?
Hope – I love this word because aside from this moment of where I am in this place I call my head and aside from this moment between us in this place, which I am choosing to call my sanctuary or place of peace; I am about to face the day by myself.
This is uncomfortable. But it’s okay . . .
I can do it.
I was told that as we face the precipice of change or as we find ourselves in the driver’s seat in an unknown place and heading to an unknown destination and while using an unknown map with no landmarks in place to recognize our way; with everything being brand new and with all things too confusing to understand – in fairness, I say that yes!
The newness of this life can be a scary place.
This can be worrisome. This can be hard.
Fears can leap out of nowhere and mislead us in a way that we either fail to try or show up, or we fail to report to the tasks that we have to face.
There will be times and bouts with absolute loneliness. I know this is true.
There will be hopes which are too afraid to be hopeful because, of course, the webs of doubt are too constricting to let us breathe.
So, then how can we hope?
I am new here. Yet, I have been here before.
I am not unaware of what’s happening – or why?
I am working through this and at the same time, I am trying to find an easier way to better myself instead give in to that old familiar friend who we called, “Stinking thinking.”
That’s another bitch I deal with. . .
I am trying to maneuver myself to a better position. I am working and learning and at the same time, I am thinking and feeling. I am hurting too, which is to be expected at times like this.
Because, again, at the precipice of my change, I now find myself out of sorts. My expectations did not (or have not) met me halfway, at least not yet.
There is more to come. There will be more uphill battles and more low-blows and bitterness to follow.
I am about to embark on a day which is not unlike any other day. However, each day is different.
Each day, I relive or rethink a moment which took place in my past.
I say this because it is helpful to admit to these truths – even if the truth hurts.
I am moving through the stages of grief because, to me, whether I am accurate or not, the losses that I have willingly assumed are not easy for me nor have they come with any kind or gentle terms.
But – life is this way. Breakups and divorces are hard.
But necessary.
I agree.
I also agree that this is and was necessary. I agree that as I find myself where I am, I have to understand that this is only where I am for now.
I have to rid my thinking of tragic or lonesome finalities and rather than allow myself to be cornered by dead-end reservations, I have to allow myself to dare and dream and yes, I have to proceed.
I have to process.
I have to move forward. I have to remain consistent and persistent because in order to move ahead, we have to be vigilant. As in, always.
We have to endure. We have to recognize that there is still light ahead of us. There is still hope and yes, there is still time to pull off the greatest trick ever known, which to me – this means us.
I am awake before the garbage truck arrives which is interesting for me because as the dawn breaks and as my fingers poke the keyboard, I am typing to a soft brand of music in the background.
I can see the daybreak glistening through the blinds of my new place.
I can hear the garbage truck driving down the street which reminds me of my younger days, here in suburbia.
“I’m back . . .” I say to myself.
“It’s not so bad.”
“I just have to get used to this.”
I am still setting up my new place, which is nice.
A new table came yesterday to compliment my desk and accommodate my printer. For the record, I’ve become pretty good at assembling furniture that comes with no language (only pictures) and some misleading images to say the least.
I have some picture frames that need to go up. I want the walls to have coverage.
I have some sorting to do. This is not just paperwork to sort through. These are ideas and plans which I have to address and manage for the sake of my own heart. I need to improve. I need to exercise both my mental and physical nature.
I have a meal which I plan to make today.
The meal itself will be consumed rather quickly. However, the prep and the care and actual cooking of this meal will take a long time. All day, in fact.
But that’s good. Food is nurturing and the ingredients matched by my hands and the care of this is an act that translates to self-love because it’s not just a simple meal. And, it’s not the meal itself.
It’s the meaning behind it.
I’m starting off with some country style pork ribs. These are boneless which means I’m going to cube them. Then I will brown the meat with some diced onions.
I’m going to prepare this with 1 cup of red wine and 2 cups of apple cider. I’ll need a cup of broth and some salt and pepper to taste. I have some garlic cloves (about 3 or 4 to be exact). I’ll add in a little cinnamon.
I have some carrots. I have some baby potatoes and they’ll go in too.
I have some baby bello mushrooms, which always do nicely with this.
I know because I have done this before.
This is a stew that I used to make a long, long time ago.
But like I said; this is not about the stew.
Not at all.
No, this is an attempt to find a sense of personal independence.
This is a way to defy my fears and the moments at hand which I have to defend myself from thoughts that can led me astray.
This is a means to an end or better yet, this is a way that I can celebrate the day – even the day itself is sad or unfortunate, or if I am unhappy or not feeling well or if I am alone; then fine.
Let me do this. let me take a stab at it.
The ideas of replacing thought with action are the only ideas that seem to work for me.
Otherwise, I find myself lost in my thoughts or allowing my mind to play tricks on me.
And I tell you – it’s a bitch when we overthink.
It’s a bitch when we play those hurtful scenarios over and over again in our head which, of course, none of this is helpful. No, this only hurts – and as for my thinking that’s happening at the same time while uncomfortable changes take place – you can bet your ass that the mind can be a terrible place to be.
I am not brave nor tough nor am I anyone other than me.
However, today seems more like a new beginning. It’s like had mentioned before. I am in the driver’s seat of a new trip with new maps and no landmarks to help me find comfort.
Life is an easily escapable thing . . .
What I mean is life and people can slip away from us – that is, if we are not mindful of them and their feelings or their importance, things can happen that shatter our connection.
I can see where I made mistakes. I can see where my past, regardless of my intentions were interpreted differently. As I look to negotiate a new path, I can feel the wreckage of my past as it breathes down my neck.
All I can do is allow time to do its job. All I can do is let the seconds add into minutes. I’ll have to let the minutes move into hours and hours into days because eventually, time does heal.
People do move on or (and most importantly) we can reconcile and heal better than we were before.
I know it.
Pain can improve or, if anything; at least we can adapt and learn new ways to live without picking the scab and refreshing the wounds.
I want to heal. I want to improve.
But more, I want to get through this process without taking on more damage. Better yet, I don’t want to damage anyone else in the process either.
Life’s a bitch sometimes, I get that.
But so is collateral damage. I don’t want to damage anyone or anything anymore.
Comprende?
So – today, I’ll keep busy. I’ll make my dish.
I’ll pick up with my cleaning in my little place.
I have to deal with the last of my furniture which is on its way.
I’ll have to pick my wash and then maybe – I’ll hang some pictures and make this place more of my own.
I hope the food comes out nice.
I’ll make a few plates and put them to the side just in case someone decides to come over – and not that anyone will. But still, I was told to expect the unexpected.
So I will.
I don’t know what time dinner will be.
But I can be flexible.
Besides, I have a brand new television –
a nice couch
I have all the channels I can think of.
I have a few snacks in the fridge too – just in case.
Oh, I have a few extra pillows if you need –
Or, if you want . . .
you can use my chest if you’d like
and find comfort here.
Soon . . .
The autumn is going to appear.
It’ll be soup time
And Montauk is a pretty drive if you have the time for it.
The Written Addiction 