Pieces of Me

I am like celery kept in a refrigerator. 

I start off each week strong and then I fade.  Not externally - you wouldn't notice anything different by looking at me.  But if you picked me up...by Friday, I am a piece of celery several days past its prime, limp and wilted, a victim of gravity and inevitable deterioration.  It's always on Fridays that I think about running away to someplace quiet.  Maybe to a cabin in the woods.  Or to a silent retreat in India.  Or to an uninhabited mountain in Nepal.  Someplace alive.

You know I started blogging in earnest all those years ago because I was tired of telling the same stories about my life over and over to different people.  It seemed much easier to write out my life in one place and then anyone who was interested could check in when they wanted.  And of course that's not what it's about anymore.  That's not the way the internet works anymore.  I am back to telling stories.  I have so many stories and I just talk.  I get so terribly tired of talking...

I get so tired of talking that sometimes I physically slump over.  Like days-old celery. 

I'd never trade where I am now for where I was a year ago, when every aspect of my life seemed so bleak and without potential.  But I will admit that there are some challenges to being around large numbers of people on a daily basis that I did not anticipate.

It's not that I look around me, at the life that I am currently living, and think "there must be more than this." 

Not at all. 

I think the opposite.

I think that there really and truly is so, so much less...

Picture source.