No need to explain

It could all be summed up in a few words.

My life: and the inability to move on from the past.

I lay here tonight, thinking of all the reasons why I need to keep it in & to myself. I see the road. The road that says “This isn’t that bad” “Just one more will be fine.” I see it slipping away. Because while most times I am able, able to keep it together, sometimes it comes out on its own – unexpectedly it rushes to be freed.

I have taken to writing on paper again. Something about watching the words form from a pen in my hand that flies smoothly across the paper – maybe it’s the control. The knowing that I AM in control of this oh-so-small portion of things. Things are changing. Too fast. I need time, yet have none. Need answers, yet have none.

Im where I wanted to be – why am I not happy?

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One comment

  1. I used to wonder that about myself. Why am I not happy? Through out my life I have thought a lot of “if I only had this or that, then I would be happy.” And I have done a lot of “if only they would do this or that, then I would be happy” thinking too. And of course I have thought a lot of “if only I could do this or that, then I would be happy” thoughts. But when my mom died I stopped looking at happiness as having things or doing things or looking at others and wishing I was them. I stopped looking at happiness as something that comes from the outside. I looked inward at me. My mom was gone and she had been my life barometer. You know the old “if mama ain’t happy then nobody’s happy.”

    In my family I have always been and continue to be the odd duck. I have never done things just because everyone else has done it or is doing it. I don’t do things just because that is the way our family has always done it or the way someone else wants it done. And I certainly have never done or not done things because of what others might think. Basically I have always tried to be true to me – my own values, my own way. Why? Because when I do I feel good about me. Of course that meant that my mom wasn’t always pleased with me because we were really very different people.

    When she died I realized that I had lived for 45 years only thinking that I was not the kid my mom wanted. My siblings followed in a straight line, I took the round about way. It turns out she admired my spirit, my trust in myself, and my desire to do the right things – my way. That is when I realized that she could see that I knew right from wrong, that I owned my actions and I was a kid she was proud of because I grew up to be me. She let me be me because being me made me happy.

    Look inward Dave.

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