Monday, September 01, 2014
Pockets and Bubbles
I have not ridden my scooter in over a year. I cannot get it to start. It has a flat tire. I bought a new battery for it. It tries to start but it just makes the noises and does not catch and sputter to life.
Every night I drive home and it just looks at me. Happy, inviting and pink but, no life.
That is how my life has looked for a while now....happy and inviting on the top side but paddling like hell underneath and not getting anywhere.
I have not had any real time to breathe for a long time now. I guess that has been a good thing. I have gotten a lot of things accomplished for the outside and I have done it well. All the while, getting more and more numb.
I stopped chasing joy.
I have always had a very good charmed life. I know that at the very core of my being. There was just a few rough patches but, I would not change them for anything. I am a happy person. But, numbness is fickle and it sneaks up on you. It steals your joy. Instead of chasing it like I normally do when it is slipping through my fingers, I just watched it leave.
I was numb enough for awhile that I did not care. I was content to be in that place where I did not feel anything. I lost myself and some other people during that time. I worked, took care of what I needed to for mom, slept and ate. The giant blue bubble around me just got smaller and smaller. I stopped being able to sleep. I became prickly and on edge. It got harder.
Then I began to notice something. There were small pockets of joy. The would show up and I would suck them in like I was going down for the third and final time. Those small pockets saved me even before I knew that I needed saving.
They came beside the ocean...with the rain falling down on me and the waves making background music.
They came listening to my co-workers laugh.
They came when Camille hugs me.
They came when tiny baby girl was in my arms.
They came in a Dr. Who episodes that make me laugh and cry.
They came in lunches and suppers across the table from a good friend.
They came in the hug of a clown.
They came with unexpected kindnesses.
They came sitting at the dinner table with my kids and grands and hearing V give thanks for me being there.
They came on a Saturday morning wrapped in a sheet in front of a camp fire surrounded by women who know me even when I think I am hidden.
It seems like joy chased me when I was too tired to chase it.
I am very grateful that the pockets are getting bigger.