These past few weeks, days really, have been difficult. For reasons I don’t claim to understand. ‘Tis the season. I suppose. I don’t know really. This year has just been hard. Harder than I remember, but then again, I seem to say that every year. So again, I just don’t know.
Monday was hard. As hard as I think its been this year. And I left. For a few hours. It was just that feeling that I have given, and given, and given, and now I have nothing left to give and yet they still need more, and I cant give anymore. I am empty. Yet they need more. More of what I don’t have. Frustrated and overwhelmed, I jumped out of an almost stopped, but not completely, car and let the driver take off.
I went to a place I often went, years ago.
A wet, windy winter afternoon, and I sat on a log. Pushed back in the woods, on the beach. And watched and waited, and yelled and swore, and did a bunch of thinking and sorting.
And at the end, I wasn’t any closer to understanding than I was when I got there.
They need me. They need me to be there, and yet I cant be. They need me to be santa, to be happy, to smile, to laugh, to tickle them and be there for them on bad days. They need me to tell when to shower, and push them to get their homework done. They need me to tell them to set their alarms, to eat breakfast, to get out of bed, to get in bed. They need me to teach them. To show them. To pave the way. They need me, and yet I cant be there. I cant give them what they need, and its frustrating.
To want to tell them no to their NEEDS. Not wants, but needs.
After sitting there for about an hour, I got up and attempted walking it off. Plan A wasn’t going to happen. Plan B wouldn’t pull through. Plans C-G were totally useless and anything after that I hadn’t thought of yet. I was hopeless. And had no plan, not backup. No nothing. Just a list that kept growing of things that need done, and needs that NEED met.
I walked to the waters edge. And thought about the last time I was there. Feeling the waves pull so strong. Remembering those feelings. Those dark thoughts that were so vivid. The water crashing on the rocks. The cold air. It was all too real. Those thoughts, those days. Those wicked ideas that entered my less than sober mind. I let myself relive those moments, and relive those thoughts. I let myself go to the dark, secluded places. Just for a moment. I fantasized. I wondered how long it would take. If I could pull it off. How long would I be there and so forth.
And then I picked up a rock. And threw it. And another. And another. Until I was done throwing my fears, worries, and anticipations into the crashing waves.
All my doubts, fears, broken dreams, frustrations and failures. Everything that had me mad, and upset, and down and sad. I threw it into the waiting waves. I yelled in my mind, and threw them as hard as I could and when I was done, I laughed. Because after exhausting myself I couldnt do anything else. While wondering what anyone watching me would think. Knowing I had atleast a car or two passing by, an onlooker casually looking my direction.
And with one final toss of a rock, I headed back up the beach to face another day.
Leaving behind me in the rolling waves of the rising tide, the weights around my neck. Leaving them to sink to the oceans floor, and eventually wash up on the shore. Where someone will find them and take it home. Or where they will sit, for years to come.
Rocks, resembling my life. Waves representing my past, present and future. Tossing them to the wind. To the waiting sea.
I always knew there was something about the ocean I loved.
I don’t think I would make it without it.