I’m in a rough spot right now. Having a hard time staying positive and focused on moving forward. I suppose this is all a part of the transition. Being born is painful I’m told. Not sure how anyone figured that out, however, I know pushing a life into this world is no picnic, so I’d imagine it’s not just a ride down the birth canal and BOOM, here we are.
I liken the deaths and rebirths people experience, I experience, to coming into the world for the first time, it’s just more of a mental process once we’ve taken the initial breath of life. It’s no less painful, and more difficult to navigate away from.
When I get into these mental snits, I find it best to focus on something in my life that is not attached to any form of stress. Most often it revolves around books and poems. I hold onto something steeped in words and it provides a reprieve from the every day struggles of life.
Reading and writing have always been a means of escape for me, though much of what I read and write during these bouts of need peace of mind are focused on some pretty hard core subject matter. Irony?
Won’t You Celebrate With Me by Lucille Clifton