Word Vomit Things

Word vomit

This is the first blog post I have so far that doesn’t have a title before I write the post.  I’m sitting here, with my moody music on, just wanting to feel the keys beneath my fingers and the emotions pour out.  Gosh, it’s been an emotional week.  Does the full moon mess with anyone else? Just me?  It’s nice to have a scapegoat; don’t take that from me, please.

I am currently in this oddly comforting place amidst a massive hurricane of emotions.  I feel like I’m in the middle of this dirt path.  Over my right shoulder, the place I just came from.  It’s a place of new beginnings, joy, heartbreak, growth, self-discovery.  Over my left shoulder, the place I’m headed.  It’s unknown, frightening, exciting, filled with potential.  And me?  I’m smack dab in the middle of the two.  The final page of a chapter is in the process of turning but it’s just not quite there yet.  The next one? Oh it’s promising, but we haven’t gotten to that part of the story!  We have some loose ends to tie up here in this chapter.

You know that feeling you get on a roller coaster?  I get it every time I go on Supreme Scream at Knott’s Berry Farm.  You hop on the ride.  You strap in. They walk around, checking your straps to make sure you’re not going to fall to your death on their shift.  Your heart begins to pound and your breaths become a little shallower.  Those palms of yours, yep, they’re sweaty.  Oh crap, you think as the ride begins to slowly climb.  What. The. Heck. It slowly creeps upward and the people below you grow smaller and smaller.  You start to feel a little dizzy and your stomach is in knots.  This is it, you think.  This is how I go.  You start to realize just how high up you are.  Some kid on the other side of the ride is crying and the dude next to you is swearing up a storm.  Some dingus screams prematurely as the ride slowly comes to rest at the top.  Right there.  The longest limbo there ever was.  Those 4-7 seconds at the top, where you realize how far you’ve come and that the drop ahead of you is inevitable.  Your heart is pounding.  Your stomach is turning in anticipation of the free fall.  And then, you fall.  The ride drops you and you scream, because what the heck else are you going to do? As you reach the bottom, where the ride catches you, you let out a sigh of relief.  Your hair is a mess and your smile is creeping onto your face.  You look at whoever is with you and the ride and exchange a exhilarated glance. What a rush.  

If you’re anything like me, you hop off the ride and immediately want to get back on again.  That thrill…that’s the good stuff.  It’s uncomfortable.  We question it.  Everything in our physical being says, “THIS IS BAD” but our hearts and souls scream, “YES I LOVE THIS!”  I know, if you don’t like roller coasters you’re reading this and thinking, “what kind of freak is this chick?”

I don’t truly believe our hearts are made for boring, safe lives.  I think we long for adventure.  I think, at our core, we desire to be a part of something exhilarating and risky.  We all want a story worth telling.  We all want to get past the free fall and be able to say, damn, what a rush.  I think that’s what I’m feeling now.  I feel as though I’m at the top of the ride, waiting for the drop.  Oh it’s exciting but man is it scary.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my plans. However, as of late, I’ve been trying to plan my life less (not my day-to-day life, though…let’s not get crazy).  I think there’s a certain magic in the excitement of allowing yourself to be surprised by life.  Trust me, I know the surprises we get sometimes are the equivalent of getting socks for Christmas.  It’s like, seriously? This is what I got?  We feel entitled to so much more.  Side note: can you tell I grew up in a middle-class white home in the ways I’m complaining about getting socks for Christmas? I acknowledged how snobby it might sound so you can extend me some grace, thanks.  Gosh, this post is turning into just a word vomit session, but it’s flowing right now so I guess I’ll keep going and try to bring it all together.

Sure, sometimes we get socks for Christmas.  Sometimes life says, “hey you! Here’s some crap to deal with.  Have fun!” Every day at my job, I see parents who had plans for their families, parents whose current life is likely vastly different than the life they thought they’d have when starting a family.  You know what I also see?  People who are rocking the heck out of those Christmas socks.  I see people that made lemon drop martinis from the lemons they were given and they’re throwing a freaking party.  I see people taking life head on and saying, watch me go.  That’s how I want to be.

How does the latter part of this post relate to the beginning portion about my path?  No clue, honestly.  It’s some rambling about limbo, emotions, future excitement, past grieving, roller coasters, martinis.  I haven’t the slightest clue.  It’s word vomit at its finest.

Cliff notes version of this blog post?  Embrace the excitement and rush of movement towards the unknown path in your transition out of limbo.  Allow your heart to pound, your soul to grieve, and smile to widen as you feel the thrill of taking that plunge, leaving behind the feelings of doubt and fear.  Wear the damn Christmas socks.  Drink a lemon drop martini.  I don’t know.  Just be awesome.


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