On days like this I’m searching. Searching for something with which to fill this gaping void.
My phone beckons. Surely I’ll find something with which to quench my thirst for connection. Surely I will find something, someone, that will help satiate this gnawing hunger?
I look for a song. Something new. Not yet on my playlist. I search my favorite singers. I search my favorite topics. Nothing new. I search some more, try to listen. Nothing fills me up. Nothing settles this thrashing something in my gut. Nothing puts a hand on my heart and says, Here. You just breathe in this moment. Nothing says, Here’s your pain in words. Here, do you see how I get you?
I search blogs. I search all my questions, my desires, but I come up with the same regurgitated topics. The same platitudes. The same ideas my brain is already crammed with.
I know what healing is. And I choose to let the truth escape me. Healing is found within and not without. Yet, today I want something from without to reach inside and warm me.
I work on my website. I polish and add and spruce up every page. I try to solicit views, recognition. I post. I connect. But no one is looking. No one is interested. And what? Suppose I do get one like, one commnet — will that make me happy? Will that put my writhing heart, my unsettled insides, to rest?
Coffee. I've been nursing the same cup since the morning. This bitter brew, the one I can hardly down without wincing and masking it with some sweet edibles, which in turn make me gag, does that hold the answer to this ache?
No. I switch to pretzels, the only thing I can ingest on days like these.
I start to read a book, but the words don't even register. It's all a blur in front of my eyes, while I hide inside.
Work, volunteer work, house work. I shake my head. I can’t summon the energy to focus and will my brain to be productive.
Quick. The kids are almost coming home. Calm me! Do something! The anxiety inside screams.
I try. I inhale and exhale slowly. I will be present. I will be there for myself. I will quiet all the resisting forces and focus…
Eyes fling open. I can’t do this. I’m not settled enough to settle myself.
So I’ll accept it. I’ll accept that today, this week, I’m searching. I’ll accept that I’m in the throes of this unrest. I'll accept that this week I can’t find the tools with which to feel better.