This year, I want to learn how to get outside of my head. I spend most of my day processing. I have a tendency to over-analyze, pick-apart, worry myself into a tightened throat of anxiety. I have a fast-paced day job. I come home and I spend my nights learning and writing and playing a game of “what-if?” My head is never quiet. I don’t know that it ever has been. I don’t know that it will ever be. My strategy– because I always have a strategy even IF it implodes– is to get outside more. To move. To run. To DO. I went hiking today and I almost, ALMOST, got there.
To the quiet.
I got to splash through puddles of drenched pine needles and sway along with towering pine trees that leaned against the wind. I listened to creeks babble and spill over, wiped water and sweat and dirt from my face. I slipped along red clay banks, struggled to find my footing — my laughter swallowed by the sound of the rain beating against the forest floor.
What I am most interested in learning is how to not be so fucking terrified of the uncertainty of life. To stand in the present and not question that this is not the image I had in my head. In my heart. Certainly, this task is easier accomplished when I am melting into insignificance, somewhere in the wilderness.
30-something Mississippi queer. Bleeding heart with a soft spot for honesty and oversharing. Conquering corporate America and my own insecurities– one day at a time.