Of The Things I Miss: Me

Me. I have been missing. I apologize. I get into this cycle where I write as if my life depends on it and then life somehow interferes and I am left to somehow intertwine my love for letters back into my reality. Most times I feel lost without it. Writing that is. To be completely honest, I have been feeling lost these last few months.

Since I graduated high school I have worked. I was 18 years old with a job, trying to pay for school books (although I didn’t buy many) and somehow manage to write papers that would satisfy the desires of those receiving a pay check that we both can live off of; all the while I was steadily working. I must admit, my pay has always been above the “struggling college student/starving artist” scale. I, for the most part have been pretty stable. I guess. Not to say that I haven’t experienced hardships, because I have. It’s not like my tuition was paid for nor have I always had a clear idea as to where I was heading. There have been many of days where my footsteps have only been guided by a flashlight and the silent whisper of prayers only to be heard by one. I too have experienced what it feels like to have to be wildly dependent on my parents for food and shelter while in my adult life. It was as if I reverted back to infancy, yet my developed mind allowed my inner voice to stroke my pride. Pushing forward and bottling things away, when all I actually needed was time to grow. I engulfed myself in my own thoughts and feelings while trying to stay on my feet and still maintain a level of independence that my whispering ego told me that I must have at 21.

Yet, years later I suddenly find myself laden with that same ole’ flashlight and lip quivering prayers. Finances haven’t been too much of an issue (‘I don’t do broke well’ as one of my friends so solemnly reminds me), however while my pockets do not suffer from malnutrition, my spirit does. And this friends, is the plight of a creative being.

These days I find myself stationed in a cube, enclosed by 4 walls that at times feel like bars. I feel like I need to break free. I am in a building with large windows, ones that give the illusion of nature’s skin soothing breeze, yet it is laden with artificial air that somehow freezes me like the arctic and congests me in the same breath. My back hurts, not because of strenuous labor, rather because of the sedentary position my being resides in as the hours seem to greet me with goodbyes and whispers of ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Tomorrow is a day that I never look forward to as routine often drains the life out of me creating restless nights and even less than energetic days. Yet, I smile.

I wake up in the morning and prepare myself to listen to another’s depths of despair. I problem solve, resolve and piece together puzzles as others seem to be lost in a maze. I am the Olivia Pope of many people lives yet for some reason I can’t seem to recreate my own path so that it forms a straight line. I was thrown a loop, a curve ball in life and somehow the ball is still coming in slow motion toward me and I haven’t been able to pull out my catcher’s mitt and get back on track. So I remain still.

Listening to the words of a great friend who often reminds me that I am exactly where I need to be in life. I replay those words in my mind as I often seem to convince myself that I should be doing more. I try to remember that I am more. And although I seem to be moving in no particular direction; I am moving. Motioning myself with the hopes that one day my flashlight will find that path that I seem to have lost some time ago.

Of the many things that I miss, I miss me. I miss basking in words as if they birthed me. I miss truly enjoying the freedom that words provided me as I created how things should be and etched them in deceased trees to be remembered in my history book.

I have been missing. I apologize. But, as I stand here with my flashlight I ask that you all grab a flashlight as well and journey with me as I embark on a path that leads me back to myself.