It can take two hours and thirty-five minutes of driving to mentally unpack two weeks.
Two hours and thirty-five minutes buckled behind the wheel watching a summer sky burn and flicker through deeper shades, racing to see who will get to rest first.
It’s been days on days of fighting injustices at work. Of cheering friends on through incredible new stages of life. Of seeking and chasing what aligns with my values.
But underneath what’s good and true and solid is another side.
I’ve uncharacteristically started looking for spicy foods. Just to feel my lips burning.
I downloaded a dating app and deleted it in less than a day, way uncomfortable and wigged out.
I’ve been struggling to eat alone, oddly numb about it.
At the first sign of fear or doubt, I’ve been running face-fucking-first through every opportunity. As if to prove to myself I can create stability through sheer willpower. Instead of waiting to see if something will be unbearably painful or scary, I’m forcing myself to go through haphazard boundary checks.
Sometimes it works out fucking brilliantly and I find a new job that is everything I’ve been looking for. However, clearly, there are also costs when it doesn’t pan out to success: insert the above weird and unhealthy shit.
I haven’t figured out how to move on after losing one of my longest ride-or-die, be-there-no-matter-what kind of friends. The kind of trust that was years in the making (and seems daunting to create again).
I’ve been unknowingly measuring how connected/loved I am by how useful/helpful I can be to friends and family to distract from my cravings for more deep connections (and fear of not being able to build more).
There’s a point when driving in the evening where the sun sits just under or around every possible sun visor adjustment – even if I squirm and rest my weight in a weird way.
Similarly, that’s what acknowledging the messy, painful parts of this journey feels like.
Especially out loud.
Let me know if you can relate to any of this – I’d love to hear more of your story.
