Blank spaces vs. Dark places…

photo-1461301214746-1e109215d6d3I was chatting with a girlfriend last week and I mentioned something, over a steaming cup of tea, about how sometimes I just get caught up, in my head, in a bad place where insecurities, fears and other kinds of nonsense dwell. I only dove into such topics because I thought this was a fairly normal thing. She, however, said she could not relate. When I asked her where she went during her dark times, she mentioned nothing. Blank space. This is something I cannot relate to. It’s not that either of us are wrong as much as it’s odd to simply not be able to relate. At all. Period. I find myself uncomfortable with such puzzles, truthfully.

Chw is away on business quite a bit these days. Gen and I are making the most of our time with movie nights, a trip to the Tigers’ game with friends, toe nail painting and lovely cups of steaming goodness. These are beautiful days and, as I’ve mentioned perhaps more times than you welcome, I am savoring these moments as they are fading quickly. Then, however, I crawl into bed exhausted, after a really great day. I have the best of Monday morning intentions until horrible dreams of those insecurities and fears hijack my sleep and morning finds me battle worn. Suddenly my Monday morning pot of tea feels more chore than simple pleasure and I am left with a pretty uncomfortable perspective on things and that slappingly painful reminder that no one gets it. This isn’t true, I know. Apparently some people retreat to blankness and don’t have these crappy dark corners full of boogie men or other such frustrations inside their mental space. (Psychologically speaking, this is beyond fascinating to me, FYI) There are plenty who do get it though, and this morning I’m unsure whether we are the lucky or unlucky ones of the bunch.

Today I am stuck in one of those corners. After a night of dreams where insecurities and fears tormented me, I woke to ache for reassurances that will never actually come. There are wounds and scars of truth and life-lived-horror which these wicked things were born from and I am, in many ways, forever altered. These things that I have lived my life as a daughter, as a wife and as a woman believing I needed, will never actually be mine. I have come to terms with this, but it is a daily painful reality. I try to dive into routines and tasks but the dark cloud from my night and the intensifying of these things is there, hovering. I hate those things which stalk our thoughts and follow us. I don’t want to live pretending, in a false reality where everything is ok, but I don’t like this either. Today is unnecessarily heavy and I find myself, at ten in the morning, wishing already for bedtime so that I could start again.

I went for an early morning walk, loving this crisp air and making the effort to acknowledge that the season I love and all of the things about it which warm my spirit are here. I am grateful for a thousand different things this morning. It isn’t an attitude adjustment that I need, and yet…

I hope your Monday is shaping up much more optimistically…

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