Waiting for sand

I think I need a shirt that says, I SURVIVED 2011 and 2012. Like the ones they sell at Six Flags and Universal Studios referring to some seemingly life altering three minute attraction. I've been on a roller coaster of my own. My aunt said, “life is a battle.” I couldn’t agree more. This is not to say that there isn’t plenty to be thankful for and blessings to sing praises about, but I cannot remember a time when I was more challenged. My dad insists one day we’ll all laugh about it. I'll probably cry first, and then I'll laugh.

I sort of feel like a head that is just bobbing in the water. Often I feel like I am going under and then I pop right back up. It would be nice to stop swimming though, maybe even float. I am looking forward to the elation I’ll feel when my big toe hits the sand in a final kick and I'll know I'm almost there. 

So this is real life, eh? We should have all stayed in kindergarten when everything was better. Life was tailored to us for us. You could believe in fairies and talk about trolls and watch Family Matters on Friday nights with a bowl of popcorn and one candy selection from Blockbuster. I want my biggest problem to be figuring out my outfit combination for the first week of school. I want hot dogs in my macaroni and cheese and ketchup on my eggs and all that other gross stuff, because that is the cuisine of the lighthearted! Woo hoo, pour me some of the sparkling apple cider! No need for the hard stuff, I haven’t a care in the world except for beating Joseph Wiggington in monkey bars upside down contest and avoiding flip-up Friday. I want my most embarrassing moment to cap at the time I bought about 15 stickers that I covered my lunch box with, all saying “porn star” in various fonts because I thought it was a new kind of super hero akin to a “rock star.” I should have appreciated every fort, every sleepover, every dumb ringing bell, and pajama day a lot more. Because that was utopia and this is a lot harder. 

I wish my own life were a video game and I could tell my avatar, “jump Adrienne!” “Get that star for extra lives, Adrienne!” “Run this way Adrienne!” It would be much easier to be the one looking in and controlling than trying to run and think at the same time. 

Sometimes I genuinely can’t tell what kind of reaction I should be exhibiting. I am weighing my call to action on an ancient balance scale that seems to be constantly tipping this way and that. My inner sanity says, just stop. Chaotic thoughts and frantic gestures, surely are not the way toward making sound decisions. My inner go-getter says, push, and push hard until you get what you want. The only way to achieve the outcome you desire to is to make it happen by all means necessary. Where is that middle voice that should be the balance of the two? She needs to speak up. 

So until then I balance myself between the two. Sometimes I go nuts and sometimes I just stop. Staring out my window and watching sky scrapers get swallowed by fog is one of my favorite therapies. It’s like an urban aquarium. And you know how relaxing people find aquariums... Silence has become one of my favorite sounds. Sometimes I wish I could mute my ears altogether. It seems peaceful. There are times when the best kind of therapy is exuding the emotion you desire in return. Being loving is a gift in itself. It’s an invitation to peacefulness. It’s the best kind of double edged sword. Judith Guest said, “people who keep stiff upper lips find it damn hard to smile.” I believe her.