Waiting for the Alarm to stop Ringing
Its 651...Apparently I had set my alarm for 650. Lucky for me, Taylor set his alarm for 5am. nothing like hearing the sound of a puddle being made to wake you up early. So now I'm sitting here blogging, listening to the alarm go off and wondering how long it will take to stop. Most alarms ring for one minute then quit..not mine...we're working on three minutes now. I know it shuts off at some point, but i wonder if that point is before or after I lose the sanity to listen to it.
I've been in a bigger transition lately than just a physical one, which, if you've been reading my blog for more than a year, you know is the reason this site was started; my half-hearted attempts at becoming a triathlete. I finished that tri...and five half marathons and attempted the full marathon and now I'm in charlotte. I'm away from all the people who motivated me to keep trying for the next big thing and i've lost the will for endurance. It makes me wonder if those races were my idea, my dream, or someone else's that I just went along with so that I wasn't alone. Seeing myself outside of it all, i'm starting to think the latter.
These last few weeks I've been working really hard at living here in Charlotte. It seems as though, after answering several hundred prayers about my work situation, that this is really where God wants me to be...and I've realized that the last 18 months, I've not lived here at all. I've lived in a pseudo commute with my head, stuff and money here, and my heart, friends and family in a different place altogether.
While this is a fine option, and something I've become really good at, i know its not what I'm supposed to be doing. Far be it from me to say that I'm reaching the place where I'm doing what I'm supposed to be all the sudden (try to convince my house, my dog, or that customer I failed to call back anything different), but In the last few weeks, I've been trying to be HERE.
The alarm is still ringing.
Transition is really difficult. When I was younger and moved everywhere it was somehow easier. Lunchrooms, recess, neighborhood kids, parents, siblings, they all made moving easier, because you ended up stuck with the same people all the time and naturally made friends. Being 30 and doing the same is a much different beast. Especially when you are as proned as I am to stay at home and sleep. I've slept away a good year of my life...and probably the best year..29...my very last trip through my 20s was spent napping. And now over half of my first year in my 30s has gone the same route.
There's something about this place my life is in that just makes me incredibly awkward. It used to be that I was just slow to warm up; that I would be shy and reserved until one day after being tired of being quiet I would explode into a giggling mass of hilarity and saucy observation. Something has happened to me somewhere along the line that has left me a big dull dud.
I feel really far from myself; who I was, who I am, who I should be. I feel like it's going to take another year to just straighten out this cluster that I've become. Could I survive another year of living the way that I do? Working 8-10 hours, then coming home to a neglected puppy and getting jealous of the hip-happening lives of the Golden Girls before I convince myself that I should go to sleep, only to wake up and do it all again. Weekends are a hollow blend of denying the need to clean my house from the lazy tornado I live as through the week and reaching awkwardly out to a few familiar faces at a friendly church.
I don't know if this is a funk...or a chosen path, or destiny or just a phase, but it's making me ill.
As I typed that last line, foggy phrases from Man in the Mirror starting rolling through my head. Good old Michael. Maybe I'll just go listen to that song and pretend its my new anthem.
oh and...I gave up at 13 minutes and shut the alarm off myself. stupid thing.
I've been in a bigger transition lately than just a physical one, which, if you've been reading my blog for more than a year, you know is the reason this site was started; my half-hearted attempts at becoming a triathlete. I finished that tri...and five half marathons and attempted the full marathon and now I'm in charlotte. I'm away from all the people who motivated me to keep trying for the next big thing and i've lost the will for endurance. It makes me wonder if those races were my idea, my dream, or someone else's that I just went along with so that I wasn't alone. Seeing myself outside of it all, i'm starting to think the latter.
These last few weeks I've been working really hard at living here in Charlotte. It seems as though, after answering several hundred prayers about my work situation, that this is really where God wants me to be...and I've realized that the last 18 months, I've not lived here at all. I've lived in a pseudo commute with my head, stuff and money here, and my heart, friends and family in a different place altogether.
While this is a fine option, and something I've become really good at, i know its not what I'm supposed to be doing. Far be it from me to say that I'm reaching the place where I'm doing what I'm supposed to be all the sudden (try to convince my house, my dog, or that customer I failed to call back anything different), but In the last few weeks, I've been trying to be HERE.
The alarm is still ringing.
Transition is really difficult. When I was younger and moved everywhere it was somehow easier. Lunchrooms, recess, neighborhood kids, parents, siblings, they all made moving easier, because you ended up stuck with the same people all the time and naturally made friends. Being 30 and doing the same is a much different beast. Especially when you are as proned as I am to stay at home and sleep. I've slept away a good year of my life...and probably the best year..29...my very last trip through my 20s was spent napping. And now over half of my first year in my 30s has gone the same route.
There's something about this place my life is in that just makes me incredibly awkward. It used to be that I was just slow to warm up; that I would be shy and reserved until one day after being tired of being quiet I would explode into a giggling mass of hilarity and saucy observation. Something has happened to me somewhere along the line that has left me a big dull dud.
I feel really far from myself; who I was, who I am, who I should be. I feel like it's going to take another year to just straighten out this cluster that I've become. Could I survive another year of living the way that I do? Working 8-10 hours, then coming home to a neglected puppy and getting jealous of the hip-happening lives of the Golden Girls before I convince myself that I should go to sleep, only to wake up and do it all again. Weekends are a hollow blend of denying the need to clean my house from the lazy tornado I live as through the week and reaching awkwardly out to a few familiar faces at a friendly church.
I don't know if this is a funk...or a chosen path, or destiny or just a phase, but it's making me ill.
As I typed that last line, foggy phrases from Man in the Mirror starting rolling through my head. Good old Michael. Maybe I'll just go listen to that song and pretend its my new anthem.
oh and...I gave up at 13 minutes and shut the alarm off myself. stupid thing.
Comments