Posts Tagged ‘thinking’

I stood in the laundry room, pouring detergent into the dispenser at the top of the machine and realizing I’ve forgotten.  I forgot what it was I was thinking about.  I forgot the troubling thought.

I know I should just be happy that I forgot; that I don’t have to think it anymore, but instead it starts to bother me.

What was that thought I was thinking that made me mad?  Was it a family problem, a friend problem, a work problem?

Was I upset because I can’t find my black and white striped scarf, or was it something more serious than that?

I finish with the detergent and start on the fabric softener, still wracking my brain trying to remember.

What was I doing before this? What made me think the thought in the first place?

And then it hit me.

Oh yes, that’s what it was.

And while I was glad to finally remember what it was I had forgotten, now I was stuck thinking the troubling thought again.

Maybe I should have just let it be forgotten.

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I used to find comfort there, in my head, alone with my thoughts.  It was a place I knew, it was a place I trusted, it was a place I knew I belonged.

But then I started to get tired of it, and scared of it.  I began to think that it wasn’t the place for me anymore.  I was tired of thinking thoughts that were sad and tired and not the least bit helpful at all.

I got tired of thinking them, tired of talking about them, tired of writing about them. So I decided just to stop.  To stop being alone, all alone with my thoughts.  Instead I decided to be just the opposite, I filled up my calendar with things to do and people to see, anything and everything I could think of to keep from thinking.

In the beginning it was great.  I stopped staring out the window and got back into reading.  I burned through books faster than I have in months.  I watched tv shows when they were on, instead of clogging up my PVR with months of programs I would probably never watch.  I met up with friends I hadn’t seen in a while, flipped through magazines that had been gathering dust on my coffee table, I rummaged around in my long-forgotten craft cupboard and felt the creative juices start to flow for the first time in months (years).  I took some time to look up, see the world around me, slip off my shoes and feel the grass between my toes.

I tried very hard to convince myself this was the way to be; the way I should be.

I wanted to believe it.  I wanted to believe that this was the person I was supposed to be.  I wanted to believe I could be this person, the one who was less introspective, less “in my head” and more “in the world.”  Basically I wanted to be someone different than who I was; different than who I am.

But bottom line, that never works.  Wanting to change parts of me works.   Wanting to change a fundamental piece of what makes me “me”?  Not a good idea.

I started to miss who I was before.  I started to feel like I was watching what was going on, watching myself participate in all of these things without actually being part of them.  I realized I was faking it.

And while I may have gained a bit of peace, a bit of exposure to things I had forgotten I enjoy, all the things I gained didn’t outweigh what I lost.

Somewhere in the shuffle I lost the part of me that contemplates, questions and quite honestly, exists.  And, perhaps most painfully, I lost my words.

Because the part of me the contemplates is also the part of me that creates.  The part of me that questions is also the part of me that answers.  The part of me that craves quiet is also the part of me that whispers, that tells me to find the words and share them.  Finding the words gives me comfort, closure and a sense of peace that I cannot find anywhere else, not in any book, in any magazine or in any craft project.

So I will try again.

I will try to find a balance between the thoughts in my head and the life I live outside of it.  I will try to keep time for me, time to be alone and to be quiet, while also keeping time for others, time to be together and to be loud.

I will try to find a way to keep my toes in the grass without losing the words in my head.

I will try.

Wish me luck.

the grass between my toes

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I wonder if positive thinking really does anything.

I wonder if getting excited about the possibility of something happening makes the disappointment worse when that something doesn’t actually happen.

I wonder if the brightness of the excitement makes the darkness of the disappointment even darker. I wonder if it’s better to just have the disappointment all on its own.

I wonder why the birds in the sky are flying in circles. Did they lose their way?

I wonder if the lady beside me can hear that I’m listening to Justin Bieber on my head phones. If she can, I wonder if I care.

I decide that I don’t.

I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I decided to just ride the train all day, looking out the window, wondering.

I wonder who I would be if I could be someone different. Like that girl down there with the beautiful hair; I wonder what it would be like to be her.

I wonder if, right now, someone is wondering what it would be like to be me.

I wonder why I wonder about the things I do.

I wonder what other people wonder about.

I wonder if they have more answers than I do. I tend to have all of the questions; maybe someone out there has all of the answers to all of my questions and it’s just a matter of finding them.

I wonder if this is making any sense at all.

I wonder if I care if it makes sense.

I decide that I don’t.

Sometimes it’s just about the wonder.

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