But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness
like a heartbeat, drives you mad
in the stillness of remembering what you had and what you lost.
Fleetwood Mac, “Dreams”
The struggle continues. Pensacola keeps beating up on me. And I’ve grown tired.
Yesterday was a terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad day. Nothing catastrophic happened, but lots of little things piled up and I hit my breaking point. A recurring theme in much of my frustration is remembering what I used to be and what I used to have. I’m one of the many Americans with extensive education working in a job that requires no such experience or degree. I’m frustrated that years of hard work seem useless right now. I miss working for an organization that, at its core, cared for and promoted the wellness and education of people. Instead, I find myself in with an unpredictable schedule and exhausting work. I miss the reliability of a 9-to-5, and little things like wearing dresses and fantastic shoes to work. My co-workers were more like family, and I am at a loss without seeing them on a daily basis.
This is turning into a venting session. I’ll stop that now. The point: I’m (still) torn between who I used to be and where I find myself.
I spent a couple hours at the beach this morning, just me and my little green chair. I needed the time, the space, the quiet. Being by big water has always been refreshing for me, both mentally and physically. As I watched the waves crash against the shore, I was reminded of the words: “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls. All your waves and breakers have swept over me.” It is a verse that I am reminded of in times of struggle, when difficulty is overwhelming and relief seems non-existent, when life is chaotic. The search for hope can leave one weary. But it’s something worth seeking and trusting in.
I have hope that I will regain some of what I used to be. But I know that some circumstances are purely in the past, never to return. For those, I am thankful they are a part of me and will forever be. I want to be the happier, confident, feel-like-I-have-something-to-offer-the-world girl that I once was. Until then, just tell me everything will be alright – and help me to have hope that it truly will be.