WriteOnFightOn Life Lessons,Other To be found again

To be found again



To be found again


It’s September 11, 2019 and I’m 39.

I’m in my writing room–writing– because that’s what I do and because the last few days have been hard.

My children started at a new school. Cindy started a new job. And I am back in the classroom teaching. Our schedules are packed with soccer practice, play practice and homework. As a family we move with breakneck speed from one day to the next. But above the chaos of the immediate day hangs, at least for me, a feeling of–not sadness, not loneliness– just a drifting feeling. Like I lost the foothold I once had. Like I’m floating in a current that’s pushing me along from day to day.  A weightlessness. A powerlessness. A lostness.

The anniversary of September 11th has something to do with it. It always does. So much courage and hope and love never to be seen or felt again. So does the recent death of my friend. So does returning to the classroom, beginning a new school year, looking at all these young faces while still carrying the weight of the death of a student this past in May. So does the writing blocks that have recently fenced my writing. So does seeing my children climb on a school bus for the first time, watching that bus trail away, and turn a suburban street corner.

Do you know the feeling? The lostness? The feeling everything is happening too fast to process, to make sense of what’s happening around you?

My writing room door swings open and my youngest son, Dylan comes running in. Smiling. He’s wearing his Eagles football jersey.

Dad, are we going to watch the Eagles game today?

Yes.

Dad, it’s the first game of the season.

I know.

Dad, you need to put your jersey on like me. 

I will. 

Dylan turns and I listen to his footsteps patter down the hall.

In moments of lostness, when life is running wild like a child down the hallway we need to tell ourselves, warn ourselves, yell at ourselves, like the running child– too slow down.

If we run ourselves out of control–we lose our balance, our way, our happiness, our love.

In these rushing moments it’s imperative to remember we have choices. That we can take a break, take a deep breath, call a friend, relax on the couch and watch a football game with your son.

We can be in control.

Sometimes we need to take the hard action of slowing ourselves and allowing ourselves just be.

So we can be found again.

Be well,

Jay


Living with a rare disease is difficult. There are days I want to give up. Days I foolishly wish to heal and be made whole again. This is why  I celebrate my worst day ( and why you should too)...


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