Yesterday, during my long run, I was just a few blocks away from my house when I broke down into sobs. A broken computer. A phone call across the ocean to someone whose’s laugh I wish I could watch. A unknown future. A fumbled past. All of these brought forth emotion I’ve been trying to tuck under and but it’s strength was too much in that moment. Like in Lesotho, running allows me freedom from myself. Fearing that one of the passing cars would stop and inquire at this clearly upset woman, I made my feet move, one after the other. Eventually, my head cleared and faith was restored. I’d be OK, for now.
Today, hours of applications broke me. The possibilities seemed simultaneously limitless and limited. I don’t know what to do and, if I did have a clear cut goal, I am not confident I could chase it. Tears came again, but I knew what I needed to do to stop the thrashing pain of doubt so I grabbed the leash and took Cuddy for a walk. Thirty-five minutes later, we returned home – a soppy-foot puppy and a woman with a little more hope.
That’s how my days go – close to complete devastation and then a fleeting moment will remind me that I’ll survive. I’ll be OK. I’ve always longed to be a person who didn’t need a plan and could drift, knowing she would find what she needed. Maybe not what she wanted, at least at that time, but what she needed. This is my chance to allow the wind to lead me and find reassurance in something greater than myself. It’s terrifying and part of my sadness is that I am not sure that I can be that person, but goodness I want to try.