Life is not for the claustrophobic.
It's especially hard if you wear the weight of it on your shoulders. Take it from someone who knows, it'll press you deep into the ground, encapsulate you and keep you from moving and shaking it off.
Every time I get another e-mail with bad news, sad news, troubling news, bitter news, heartbreaking news, my chest tightens. There's another dumbbell added to the load. Another straw slowly breaking my back. I'm numbed and at the same time resigned to it. I sink an inch deeper and struggle a little less. This morning I read the e-mail and cried, I felt the tears falling down my cheeks and simultaneously opened my next assignment.
The world doesn't stop.
I can't afford to.
I'm only acknowledging it now because four days ago I made myself. And that's what is truly sad. Whether ninety-six leaving a gloriously appreciated life behind or twenty-three and tragically lost to us--life is ... there. It happened, it's beautiful, it's frustrating, it's terrifying. It goes and comes as it will, and it leaves us behind choking in the dust.
Today I'm going to work in my stomping boots. Because I can, today. I may not be able to so chose if and when I want life to happen, because it will, but I can decide how I react. So I'm acknowledging this crazy day by stomping.
Come stomp with me.
Meet Rebecca
- Rebecca
- Amateur blogger (yes, there are professionals) who started with a travel blog that quickly degenerated into blabbering. Along with a life goal of surfing with Eddie Vedder, attending BlogHer is now on my list.
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