Things fall apart and suddenly you don’t know how you got there.
I mean, there have been signs.
Signs that you ignored or failed to register or perhaps were too arrogant and secure to recognize.
But then there it is. The reality of it.
Look it in the eye, baby.
Frankly, I haven’t had the courage to write. I’ve tried. I open the page and then get this whoosh of panic and dread, which is stupid because I created this space to have a safe zone. A place to land. A thing that belongs to me.
But what if you lose yourself?
Do people ever talk about that?
I think they don’t, because Holy Shit that’s a scary thing. You lose yourself, you forget why you’re here, you almost lose your marriage (which you thought was bulletproof, you arrogant tool). Your children don’t need you the way they used to. Your parents get old and scare you with their vulnerability. Or they die.
Man, what the hell?
But maybe, if you aren’t wallowing in the trash that seems like your life, you can find a sliver of grace. I’m counting on it.
You get up in the morning.
You try harder–
No, you really do. Because it’s so easy to be lazy, to fall into patterns that feel safe and you don’t even realize that you’re doing it.
You begin again.