However, not even the lush beauty of bright orange and red leafed trees lining old cobblestone streets could stop the increasingly ever-present pain I carry.
It seems to grow worse by the day, perhaps even the hour. Carrying this pain, like a sack of coal strapped to my back is utterly exhausting.
My usual GO GO GO spirit while traveling and sight-seeing was slowed by the heaviness of the sadness, the weight of the pain. It is such a shame too, I was very much the intrepid traveler. The thrill of being and exploring a new place got me higher than any drug, made me feel like I was on speed times 10.
Will I ever savior that natural high again? Revive my zest for life? Maybe. Hopefully. Right now it feels as though I want to drill a hole in my brain to stop the constant reel of thoughts passing through one lobe to the next, continually reminding me of my failures, my losses and how they are affecting me everyday in almost everything I do.
I walk around with this burden and visions. Of getting hit by trucks, planes I’m on plunging to the ground (sorry fellow passengers), my car swerving and crashing into a pole.
This is new-ish territory for me. Moodiness is an evil I have fought my entire life, but the bad states would last a month, maybe two at most. If a needed to look for work because school ended or a contract came to a close, I would maybe bathe in self-pity for a week, holed up in my room watching Top Chef reruns over and over and over until boredom overcame me then a burst of adrenaline hits through me and I was back!
Six months. It’s been six months since I lost my job and I am still waiting. I am still mourning. I don’t even know what I am waiting for. The moment the slightest bit of hope enters my psyche and I envision the future I want, begin go get ready to work on making it happen – I remember. Yes. I recall that I had it. I had the golden ticket, I’d worked hard for it, waited a long time to find it and then it was lost. ALONG with the opportunity to have that chance again due, much like the accused “witches” of Salem, I now am tainted with a blackened work history.
I am in an arts and crafts studio with no scissors. The irony.
Grant me life.
I cannot live in limbo much longer.
~ the, now must carefully edit, lest the watchers accuse me of witchcraft! audacious amateur blogger