I pulled in the drive this afternoon, feeling frustrated with the day, and thoughts heavy on my mind and heart. It’s difficult to work at something and see no physical result, no monetary reward for your efforts, and have it result in a void of emotional fulfillment.
Do you ever question your path? Choices? Do you question your why? Do you question how you got just where you are? I do and am, and it’s one of the worst cycles I get into. I think we all want to matter, and I want to make a difference. I’m tired of closed doors and ‘no thank yous’ and ‘not for mes’. I want to remain true to my cowboy boot wearing, ball cap sporting self and still push myself. I don’t want to wear office clothes and drive to the big city everyday, stare at computers, answer endless emails, and talk on a phone that weighs a hundred pounds. We all want to pursuit passions and have it reward us in all the right ways, but is there such thing when the “bones of your soul” aren’t good?
When I start feeling this way, I default to feeling like I’m failing. I see uncomfortable and similar patterns. I want to run away. I lack patience, and I want to throw in the towel. I want there to be reward for my effort and know that I’m not throwing that effort after foolishness for something that might never be. I want to go back to what was, my comfort zones, and my safe places and familiar faces. The problem, for me, is in the waiting, the patience, and the lack of faith.
I don’t have a cure for these overwhelming feelings other than to gut it out and get through the moment. I don’t know how not to let tears of frustration well up, and I don’t know how to fight back the lump in my throat. I don’t know how to overcome the palpable silence in the big, empty room.
So, I pick up my camera and go for a walk. I walk and think and wipe away tears. Today, I walked until I crested the ridge and found myself smack dab in the middle of a bunch of feral horses. I sat down in the sage, breathed deep, and pulled my camera up, and snapped picture after picture.
I thought about the “bones” of my foundation, and I realized it will never matter what job I work if I don’t get right with myself, if I don’t continue to try, if I don’t find ways to cure the restlessness, if I don’t learn to trust the process, and in turn, trust myself and the path the good Lord has put me on.
So, in the meantime, I do familiar things that act as a salve to a rough day. I pet the happy puppy faces that greet me at the door. I catch my wily and fat ponies, nuzzle them, brush out the gnarled manes and tails, enjoy the cool fall air on my face, crack a beer, crank the tunes, and strengthen the bones of my foundation. I get back to being the old me for five minutes.
Tomorrow is another day to try again, and all it takes is one foot in front of the other. When the bones of your soul are good, the rest won’t matter, and the best will come. I want to be ready when it does.