Coming Back

I have yet to figure out how to stumble down the lane of “What to say, and what not to say.” It’s one of my weaknesses. I will tell you that much. While my words fail me, often, and usually when I need them the most, I am accustomed to saying what I want, when I want and how I want. So it may seem strange, coupled with the fact that ½ my income comes from writing –that words are evading me lately.

Then again –it might not seem strange. I really don’t know anymore.

The thoughts that flood my mind are not those of conversation starters, and rather would be classed somewhere, firmly, I believe in the camp of “Conversation killers: What not to say.” It’s just a theory tho, I could be wrong. I have been before.

A little over three weeks ago I threw my hands in the air, boarded a plane –and 18+ hours later landed in a foreign country. You see, that to me –is easy. I can plan, arrange, schedule and prepare for a trip across the world in less than two weeks. But I cannot, for the life of me, find the words to sum up, accurately, without stepping on any toes, offending people, or scaring my own words into hiding, just what the thoughts are that race through my head these days.

Some would call me foolish. Stupid. Insane. Those are words I am ok with. Words I am comfortable with. I know how to be foolish. I can be stupid. And Insane is fun at times. But the real stuff? The downright hard, nitty gritty that keeps most up at night yet bores me to sleep every time I consider pondering it (coping much?)? Well that sends me into a tailspin.

Maybe it was foolish, stupid, and insane. It probably was. But traveling to be is my reason. Most have a reason: Their family, their job, career, future. Things that will go somewhere, mean something, give something back to the world. Me? My reason is traveling. Which is truly ironic. But is. It just is.

I thought maybe at some point on the trip –my words would return, but by the time the days had come to an end, writing was the last thing I wanted to do, but the only thing I had to do which meant that the only writing I did was for work. And a travel book I keep just to document the insane moments of the day. Most pages are filled with angry rants about who annoyed me that day. But it all means something. To someone.

To round the trip off I spent the night visiting the kids before flying home to greet reality head on.

It sucks, in many ways, returning.

But it must be done.

Reality needs facing. Things need done.

And as much as I don’t want to write about it: Things need said. Hard things. Things that I dread saying for fear of making them any more real than they already are. Because somehow not saying them will make them that less true. And maybe if I can distract myself with all things lovely, this too will pass.

So back to reality. Back to writing. Back to facing this life that is very much mine, and very much real no matter how very much not I try to make it be.

I need to write.

I need to write for myself. For my sanity. For my release. Because as much as travel is my reason, writing is my release. And reason and release go hand in hand.

I have long since said that the reason I don’t write as much anymore is because I have reached a point where the things that impact my life, are not mine to tell. The kid’s lives are very much their own, and I is not mine to intertwine with. And as much as I want this small paragraph to be true: I have discovered it is just a cover.

A cover to hide the unbearable, and unthinkable. A mask that will hide what I don’t want to uncover. To conceal those things that are so real that I wish them not to be, and instead look to the shiny things in life and attempt to forgo the fact that there are very real, very hard problems. And while looking at the shiny things is great, there is a balance. And I need to re-strike that balance, and write.

Because the only reason I don’t want to write has very little to do with unveiling some secrets that will destroy the kid’s lives, or upheaval the paths they are on. And has everything to do with me not wanting to face reality, and choose to believe that hiding is the best option.

It’s time to strike that balance, find the courage and face the reality that is very much mine. No matter how pleasant or unpleasant it may be.

But until then, I will look to the shiny things in life, and remember an amazing three weeks that easily rate as some of my favorite.





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