Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Pillars & Meadows

Oh, the solitude of home, the simplicity of life with dogs, and the serenity of my blanket.

I am overwhelmed. I get this way from time to time. I get very selfish and anxious and testy. I struggle with the balance of giving myself but also saving a little bit of myself back. I mentally commit to so many things in my mind, and when my physical world cannot live up to my mental commitments, I feel like a failure.

My job is stressful. I have a lot of bosses. I have a lot of random duties. I like it, because I tend to get bored very easily. There is a certain level of security in having so many responsibilities. There is an excitement with new ones. But the truth is, I get overwhelmed from the pressure of it. And I get overwhelmed from the pressure of life—bills, the recession, the family health problems, and obligations. Every now and then, I just get . . . . . . . overwhelmed.

These are the times I find it hard to be social. I find it hard to be the person I want to be. Because I just want to hide and lay low and weather the storm. I know it will pass. I know things will change. Age and time have shown this to be true. But it’s being a lone pillar that wears me out. I’m standing alone.

Through the wind.

Through the rain.

Through the blazing heat.

Through the fires and tornadoes.

If I fall, I fall alone. So I don’t allow myself to fall. And if I show the cracks in my structure, I could be a target for bored vandals. So I stand strong. Hiding the soft, sandy interior underneath the solid surface of stone and mortar.

And every now and then, I become emotionally spent. I find myself in a state of shock, where little by little, different parts of me shut down. I know it’s a safety mechanism in my brain. It’s a way to keep going by conserving energy.

I’m sure most adults feel this way. After years of weathering life, we are thankful for what we’ve overcome, but also tenuous about what we have yet to endure. We bellow “how much longer?” to an invisible God. But magically, we endure. And the storms pass. And we find ourselves walking through a meadow with sunshine warming our backs to counter the coolness of a hearty breeze.

I’m waiting for my meadow.


Naida Lee said...

hope you find your meadow soon. and i hope it's a long and lush one.

Jeff said...

I can't remember the last meadow I was in... I think I stepped in a fresh, steaming pile.