The sound of settling
I am sitting by the river for the second day in a row. I hear the steady hum of cars on the pavement, chatty folks and families, and not much else. There is a yoga class going on to my left. The trail bathrooms are locked.
I started school again yesterday. I am taking Chemistry, which is divided into a lecture and a lab, and Intermediate Algebra. These are foundational courses that I have not taken in over 10 years. Emotionally, I feel myself swirling. There is some fear I am rolling around in, coupled with anticipation, excitement, worry, nerves… but I’ve made a few friends already. Part of me worries I might be in over my head. And yet, I feel content. Present.
I have reason to believe that a reset button has been pressed. I am staying curious about whether it’s an internal one or an external one, but maybe it’s both. I have returned from a long weekend away, camping under the stars of West Virginia, playing a whole lot of baseball, and I am feeling… different.
This reset I’m talking about, it couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed a little shakeup. My life has been feeling samey, constricting and tight, and I have felt quite lost in the sauce of it all. For all those reasons, I couldn’t be more grateful for the restful time away. The weekend in itself, as an exclusive entity, is one I would re-live over and over again in a closed circuit. It was equal parts beautiful and trying, gorgeous and healing. It surpassed all the expectations I had going in, and I was admittedly very nervous about how it would go. This is partially because leaving home has, in recent years, grown progressively more disregulating, so it did not come as a surprise that I was nervous. The surprise came later, when I realized how safe I was. Now - that is not to say it was all perfect, but I hold awareness for the tough parts. There are lessons here.
Apart from the beauty of the weekend, I see where the experience has gifted me validation and affirmation. This comes in various forms. My physical ability to hit the ball, to be fast, to be fearless, to get knocked down and then get back up… My social ability to thrive in groups and sparkle, to stay dedicated to my sobriety, to bounce and flit around and move with the rhythm of what is maybe my heart. I feel these things, and I see them reflected back to me. My time away in this huge community of people who showed up for the love of the game and for each other offered me a big ol’ mirror. A precious, unexpected reminder of who I am. And that’s the end of what I’ll say about it. The rest feels quite sacred, and so I will hold it in what is certainly my heart.
Returning, I have a greater sense of motivation, I feel capable, and I feel full. I know I’m not a quitter, and I know that I am skilled and adept at shifting and adapting to difficult situations. These are assets, and I am choosing to stay conscious of these despite my mind’s tendency to think only of what I’m Incapable of. I am capable of just as much, if not more than, I am Incapable of. Quote me on that. (And I mean that because I will probably forget I said it.)
By adding more time outside for the commute from my home to campus in the center of the city, I am spending less time in my apartment. I am socializing more. I’m walking a lot, yesterday and today opting to commute home on foot, about 2.5 miles. The weather has been gorgeous… the sun is out. I feel my vitality, I think I mean to say.
Adding more structure and routine to my weeks in the form of taking classes and staying on top of a homework schedule, on top of working full time, is going to be a challenge. I am about to get very busy. However, I have an inkling that I will thrive this way, as I always have in times of pressure and busyness. Lack of structure is when and where I falter.
This is why I’d like to venture a hypothesis — after all, I’m going to be implementing the scientific method a lot in the coming months. There’s something to be said about a hypothesis needing to be stated as law. Maybe if we say something with our whole chest, even if we don’t entirely believe it, it will come true. I wonder. But anyway, here it is:
September is a new beginning, or at least it could be.
The wording needs a little work. I’m working on finding the confidence to believe this reset is for real. I’ll have to run some tests. An experiment or two. I’ll give some thought to what that might look like. In the meantime, I feel glad to be writing again. To be leveling out. I am grateful that what feels like a rhythm is overtaking me.
It is true that when I am thrown out to sea without a buoy in sight, I am most vulnerable. I struggle. But I don’t stop kicking. I know how to stay afloat. Now, as I get organized and feel deeper into what is lighting me up — what I am truly present to, I see that buoy floating toward me. Here, in this place, with its anchors, with the sun, and with early morning walks through this city, I feel the wind blowing in a different direction. It feels a bit chilly, but it’s refreshing. And if I stand very still, I can hear the sound of something like settling.
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