Changes. They happen to all of us, whether we like it or not. What’s that saying? “The only constant is change”? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, as I try to navigate the swelling of the waves in the ocean of my life lately. “Don’t rock the boat too hard,” V said the other day. “You’ll tip it over.” There are days when I want to tip it over, when I want to dive down, down, down into the icy deep and just stay there where it’s safe and quiet, where the crashing waves don’t batter and toss me about.
Sometimes, my life feels like that: turbulence punctuated by lulls before the next line of waves.
This is my retreat, my refuge, when life feels overwhelming. When I feel like I can’t manage another bump, another nudge from life trying to prove it’s bigger than me and will beat me in the end.
It’s quiet here. Peaceful. I call it the Treehouse, and when I wake to this view, listening to the birds singing and squirrels chattering outside, I feel safe here, up high in the trees.
Yes, I know it’s an escape. I know in some ways I am running away when I am here. Running away from that old life, running away from fears and anxieties and the despair that still haunts me, that dogs my steps and bites me at the most unexpected times.
But in other ways…it feels like I am running to something.
Running to myself, to this new version of me, this me I never would have known if all of the before hadn’t happened.
It’s okay to like this new me, once in awhile. To lay here on my bed and look outside, and let the peace of the trees fill me, quiet me, grant me space to breathe. At moments like these, it’s my favorite view.