This is my old office. Hi Waco peeps. Miss you guys.
I finally got a chance to move my office today. While I'm terrified how to explain the sound of a cappucino machine in the background if a student calls, the change of scenery is doing me good.
Since mid-May I've spent most days the same. In my pajamas 'til after noon. With a TV on in the background to break the silence.
And I know that sounds awesome. I figured it'd be a dream come true when I agreed to "work from home."
But it turns out the clicking of a keyboard, and a sporatic (very loud) phone ring are not enough noise to keep from going stir crazy.
I continue to learn this lesson the hard way, each day when I force myself out of bed. And to the coffee pot. But not to the shower. Much less the car.
Maybe not going crazy, in general, is a tougher task than I thought.
Anyone care to weigh in on this?
When I was younger I remember worrying a lot about people realizing I was weird. What would my friends think if they knew I still slept with a stuffed animal sophomore year of high school (and college)? What would my teachers think if they realized I misspelled "twards" every single time, or that I had to count dots to do math? What would the police think if they knew I failed my driving test the first attempt? Would that routine traffic stop become an arrest?
These were the kinds of irrational fears that consumed my teenaged self.
I always figured I'd outgrow them.
But lately, the stuff consuming my time and thoughts isn't much better.
It's like I exchanged one set of troubles for shiny, but still frustrating, new ones. (Sort of the same feeling I get whenever I upgrade my cell phone.)
Life is complicated. Adulthood is tough. Relationships are what you make of them.
These are some of the many thoughts that have been racing through my mind lately. And I don't guess any of that is bad.
But it's the constant battle of possibilities and fears, anxiety and excitement... that is draining on me.
There is so very much up in the air right now; so little is certain.
It's hard to know which direction is up, which is, of course, my roundabout way of saying I have no idea where I'm headed. What I'm doing...
Is life hard but working... or is it hardly working?
Ever have those days?
I want to soak in the beauty of fleeting moments. I want to remember that nothing is permanent, including this long, at-times awkward transitional phase we're in.
I want to be appreciative of the many people who are making our life possible. For my exceedingly gracious employers. For our incredibly supportive families. For Allstate, who (fingers crossed) will get us in a new car sooner rather than later... *Update. We're in a new car; that's a story for another day.
I want to enjoy my health. What remains of my youth.
To not take for granted one sip of this delicious iced latte (the hardest of drinks to master in my opinion) or the (scorching) sunlight I know I'll miss come Winter.
I want to sieze the opportunities being presented. And not waste time worrying about tomorrow, or the day after... knowing those days will come with "troubles" all their own.
But these things don't come naturally. Living in the moment. Living from gratitude instead of fear or regret... is not the way I generally work.
Worrying. I come by that naturally.
Freaking out about minute details. I'm great at that.
But looking objectively at life, not a forte of mine.
So...
I'm struggling.
I can see the choice - to pick this foreign idea of living in freedom over the familiarity of being imprisoned by my own fears - but I'm reluctant to make it.
This would become a ridiculously long post if I got into the research I've learned (heard on NPR game shows or seen on Criminal Minds) about imprisonment. About what happens to the human brain when it feels captured. Trapped.
Instead I'll stick to what I know.
I'm not an animal that would chew off an arm to break free.
I'm not even sure I'd willingly chip a nail, even if it meant a better life in the long run.
That is how badly I fear pain. How much safer I feel in a "sure" situation, even an AWFUL one, than I trust my ability to break out and make good use of hard-won freedom.
But I don't think the choice in front of me is to gnaw off a limb to gain freedom.
I think the freedom has already been purchased - with someone else's blood.
I simply have to accept what is being offered to me.
So WHY is that still so hard? Admitting a need for help.
Is it Stockholm Syndrome? Or just stupidity?
How I long to accept freedom with open arms and overwhelming gratitude.
I desire to live in it abundantly.
But I've got a long way to go. A very long way...
*This post was written weeks ago, while at a Starbucks. A lot has changed since then. A lot hasn't.
I wish I could tell you I've made great strides. Instead I have to report that I have tried. At times. To live in the present. To be grateful. And free.
But it's uphill. For sure. It's tough trying to rewire decades of thought patterns and behaviors. It's tough to go to bed one night a worry wart and try to wake up an optimist.
I'm still struggling. But that's a sign I haven't given up. And I guess I can live with that. I hope everyone else - stuck living with me - can deal with that too.
Thank you - all of you - for joining us on this journey, for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers, and for rooting us on - from near and afar.
Thanks for lending us cars. And offering us rooms. And meeting us for long lunches. And ... thanks!
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