As I sit here in the shower, with the luke warm water pounding a
steady beat into the back of my neck and a head bent down, I wonder
how many of my mourning moments happen in the shower. Too many
lately.
I feel pressure so great I can't get away from it.
I used to feel pressure like this in college, with finals or
semester-end projects due. That was different though. It felt
like the weight of a great pile was burying me and I couldn't breath
freely until I had dug myself out one small piece at a time.
This doesn't feel like weight, it feels like I'm doing 90 through the
mountains, hugging the edge of a cliff trying not to kill all the
passengers in the car. And everyone else with me is looking out the
side windows, amazed at all the beauty they see, but all I do is look
ahead and sweat.
I can't shake the fear of driving my future off a cliff. It follows
me, dogs my steps, and steals my joy. I'm white knuckling the wheel and
I can't let go, not even to see the sunset.
I have a personality prone to worry and have used routine,
unknowingly, as a coping mechanism for years. No matter how frayed
things get around the edges, going back to my routine on Monday will
set it all straight. No matter how far I wander, I never wander too
far from my routine. it's there at the end to comfort me. But now it's
all going away. It will never be exactly the same again. I have no
security blanket, I'm just holding on to the wheel.
It's at times like this that I recall the phrase that is so often my
mantra: 'the only way out is through.' in the midst of deadlines bearing
down on my head and the fear that I will not have the time to complete
articles, or worse; will turn in something poorly put together, I just
think: 'the only way out, is through.'
I sit back and remember all of the tests I took, the articles I wrote,
the papers I finished. I would think to myself: 'in two days you'll be
done, you will have turned this in. you'll be collecting a grade or a
paycheck and it will all have gotten done. It always has.' I always
have.
so now I suppose I'll say to myself that in two months. I will be
sitting on my couch in my new home. Surrounded by all of my clothes
and pets and husband and I'll be flipping on the TV trying to find
something new to watch on Netflix. I'll look at the clock and
calculate what time I need to be in bed to get up for work because I
will have a job. And lets say I'll have a friend here too. Just one, I'll
set my sights on one friend to start. Maybe she'll drag me
into watching some crappy reality TV show I hate and insist that we
live tweet each other while watching the Bachelor. Or maybe she'll be a
lazy alcoholic who's already passed out by this time of night. who's
to say, but she'll exist and I will too in this new world.
