14.4.14

Going Home



It's always a joy to travel somewhere -- to take time out of my busy schedule, the daily grind, and breathe fresh air. It's good to get away, to think on things, to slow down and process all those little tangled thoughts bouncing around in my head. Whether getting away means hopping over the ocean on a plane, or just going to a neighbouring city or town for the day, stepping away from daily routine is when I find myself again. It's easy to lose bits of myself here and there. I find often, my relationship with myself is similar to that of my dearest friends. I know my friends, I know what they like and dislike, and I know what irks them and disappoints them, what inspires and encourages them. And still when I haven't spent any quality heart to heart time with my friends, I lose that intimacy and knowledge of what makes them tick, because there is movement to those things, a sort of ebb and flow that morphs and develops over time. I'm not trying to sound mental, but my relationship with myself is very similar. I seem to lose touch with who I am and what my soul is all about when I don't spend quality time with myself. Maybe that's the introvert in me.

I live alone in a city full of people. At the end of a long day, I come home and shut the door behind me. It's quiet, and I'm alone. And even still I so often neglect to really 'be' alone. Instead of chewing on the bones of the day, and thinking on those things stirring in my heart, I drown it all out by watching the most recent season of Girls (yes, a whole season) and living vicariously through the quirky and fictional characters of the show.

I've noticed many habits forming in myself since living alone. It's so easy to become almost mechanical in my goings about. And I've learned to turn parts of myself off as if it's more convenient and less of a chore to be alone.

In the last month or so, I've decided that things really need to change. I've snuffed out my creativity, my spirituality, any light left in my soul for quite a while now and I'm beginning to feel the effects of it. I'm tired, and worn to the bone. I need to get away.

Instead of getting away to someplace new, however, I'm going home--to the town, the community, and family that I've grown up in. In a lot ways, I'm sad about this. I feel that I've somehow failed myself, that I should've done better at life, and given myself more reason to stay put. And in a lot of ways I'm nervous to come home, because it means giving up a certain freedom, accepting accountability and the truth spoken in love from the ones closest to me. I've decided to face my faults, to acknowledge my short comings and to work towards the things in my character that I want to develop and invest in. It's time for my soul to come back to life, for me to be intentional with my time. And to spend it with my own heart, and my own mind. As if those parts of me are an old friend, ready for reacquaintance.

I feel the tingling of blood flowing to my heart... this sensation that I'm coming alive. Little flickers of light in my eyes -- though it happens slow and discreetly.