If only I could bang my head against a brick wall. But is this wall similar to the one in Divergent? A sturdy border that keeps the obliterated world out of harm’s reach while creating a pseudo feeling of a peaceful village…that is until reality is recognized?
I want to yell and pound me feet on the ground while having a slightly toddler-like temper tantrum by rolling the bedsheets around my body like a cocoon and screaming obscenities into the hotel pillows.
But I’m not.
I want to.
But I’m not.
Maybe a little?
We picked up our lives and moved 800 miles east (the main reason you haven’t heard from me lately). I guess that means I’m now a North Easterner? A Phili-gander? Either way, our Midwestern life is behind us. There’s more traffic. The houses are five times the price of my former home. There is no grid system, which means GPS is my new best friend. Of course, my other new best friend is the front desk guy, whom I don’t know his name, but yes, we’re best friends. I wonder if his favorite color is orange too. Hmmm.
Things just haven’t gone as planned. It’s not our first move. Hell, it’s our fifth state. We’re practically pro’s, right? Except, here we go driving into the insanity forest again. Our whole house was poorly packed and loaded (a mistake I found on accident…longer story), the apartment we were supposed to move into was slightly less than desirable, and now I live in a hotel.
The pool is heated to bath water, which is perfect on a ninety-degree, humid day. There is only one elliptical machine in the fitness center and it groans as though it’s letting me know the fat doesn’t fall off by itself. I got yelled at for smoking on the balcony. And going up and down stairs with eighty-pound dogs on five-foot leashes is such a treat, especially in the rain. Good times!
Anyone want to scream with me?
It just so happened that while I was wallowing in my own self-pity, my very good friend, who is in a cancer battle, posted a lengthy poem by John Roedel on social media the other day. The gist of the poem states that when we feel broken and nothing seems to be falling into place, we must remember that these pieces aren’t meant to be put back together. Those broken pieces are The Universe’s way of letting us know that we are shedding old ways, old habits, old things we no longer need because we are growing. The bottom line is that were aren’t changing, we are becoming, becoming what we are meant to become.
This poem, yes, brought a tear to my eye. With all the bad that is going on in my life, I realize that it’s really not that bad, is it? My household belongings are just stuff. Getting around town is a never-ending adventure, but an adventure none the less. We have a roof over our heads, a pool to lounge around and enjoy some vitamin d, and our home is where we all are; two people, two dogs. We are safe and best of all, Julia, my big orange jeep, is causing a ruckus with her Jason mask on the passenger headrest and her dragon eye for a grille, which led to my neighbor stomping the grounds, preaching the word of the Lord, all while calling me a witch and a demon. (True Story.)
It could be worse. But, I’m glad it’s not.