Friday, April 5, 2013

stuck like glue


It's been some time since I've really gotten into the thick of it here.  The words wouldn't come.  They hung heavily in the air and the weight on my shoulders has grown over time.  I thought perhaps it was a fleeting sensation.  Something easily cured and overcome but, countless days have passed where I've felt restless.  unsettled.  uncomfortable.  agitated.  Nights when I dream the most vivid dreams that we're living in Virginia.  It feels like I'm there.  Really there.  Then, I wake up only to find myself in the same bed, surrounded by the same furniture, yet in a bedroom in a farmhouse in the middle of the cornfields of Illinois.

I don't feel like I belong in either place anymore.  neither here.  nor there.  We go "home" to Virginia and it doesn't feel like home anymore.  It feels like a house.  in Virginia.  where we once played the game of life.  Where our friends are still our friends but, I feel like an outsider.  So I long to be in the cornfields again and eventually, we return.  And when we return, I don't feel at home here either.  I long for the curvy roads and the mountains of Virginia, and the people who say y'all and car-a-mel.

I listen to the radio and no song, no tune, no genre of music cures my restlessness.  I listen to half a song and I hit Scan.  Change the station.  Change the tune.  Change the station again. 

I thought a trip with Thelma would help cure this ache.  So we gallivanted through the hills of Kentucky and West Virginia, playing tourists for the weekend.  Don't get me wrong, it was an outstanding weekend.  I thoroughly enjoyed our talks over coffee, meals together and our time in the car.  However, I returned home with the same agitation in which I'd left.

This discomfort, it reminds me that this is not our home.  Not our eternal home.  Yet, I still ache for that feeling.  The warm, fuzzy feeling that says it's all okay but, I know this is God's plan.  That he's stretching me.  Days pass and with them carry the sting of pain and some, the stain of tears.

Now.  I yearn for a job, to get out of this house, a summer trip "home" to cure that pang but at the same time, I dread a job, that trip.  I'm sure those things wouldn't cure this state of mind.  I can't make sense of these feelings.  They hold me captive, clinging to me daily.  They ride along while I run errands, they talk over top my friends, they point out things that normally wouldn't bother me, they pocket my joy, strangle my content.  and I stand, feeling powerless.  defenseless.  vulnerable.  weak.

Yes.  This is the place in which I deposit my thoughts, my feelings.  excitement.  joy.  sometimes but mostly not, distress.  sadness.  unease.  some times madness.  Myapologies.