Friday, November 15, 2013


I keep wanting to talk to you guys.  I keep thinking of things to tell you, ways to share what is in my heart, how I spend my days, the things I love and the things that hurt me.  The science is right (of course).  A body at rest stays at rest.  Inertia is incredible. 

The longer I don’t write here, the harder it is to come back to these pages.  They feel foreign.  The act of publishing becomes filled with meaning, as if the words must be particularly special now to warrant so long an absence. 

What if I don’t live up to it?

What if my words are just words after a long absence?  No more brilliant or filled with epiphanies than any other words on these pages?

Fear is such a bully – so comfortable stepping into the driver’s seat and taking the wheel whether you asked or not.  Fear will pick the whole route for you if you don’t shove it out the door and slide over.
* * *

Hey guys.

I’m here.  Living day to day.  Some are good.  Some are bad.  Most are a mix, and I’m practicing practicing practicing - like scales on the piano - gratitude.  Sometimes I forget.  I’m late for work, and the house is a disaster, and there are still boxes, and another person tells me my job is ruining their life, and I am overwhelmed.  And I don’t want to practice anymore.  I want to scream and cry and eat ice cream and cheese puffs and feel miserably, inconsolably sorry for myself.  And then it starts to flurry and I catch a downy woodpecker nibbling on the suet my dad hung outside my kitchen window and my wife’s chin fits perfectly in the curve of my neck.  And then I remember. 

These are my days. 


Rita@thissortaoldlife said...

I started to write, I have been there, too--but then I realized that I am still there. Here. Where you are, even though we are geographically miles and miles apart. I think we are all there, all the time. I think that is the truth of adult life, one that can never be contained in the idea of happily ever after. (Maybe of child life, too--but I'm not sure.) I wish someone had told me--really told me--that grown-up life is a constant effort to stay afloat. To be OK. That there will always be the times (moments, days, weeks, months, maybe even years?) when it is nearly impossible to practice. But also that we always do rise to the surface again, the waves that cover us also push back up.

I'm glad to hear your voice here. I think more of us need to share these kinds of truths with each other.

Katie said...

Rita, thank you so much for your kind (and might I say, eloquent) comment. I always feel a combination of sadness and relief when people say things like that. It's like I can't get rid of the part of me that wishes one day I would wake up and things would suddenly, miraculously be easy. But then it's nice to know that it's not just me.

Jasmine said...

Katie, whenever a blog post of yours appears on my feed, I want to read it first. You know how people say "I'd love to listen to him, even if he were just reading the phone book"? Well, I feel that way about your writing. You get the heart of things and explain them eloquently. Please let us in, to hear your musings, however insignificant they feel. Your voice is beautiful and inspirational.

Winnie said...

Such a touching post! I had a week like you wrote about (cheese puffs and all!). But seeing your post and reading the end on how you take stock of the good (and great) things really hit home. The past month has been brutal with work, and home emergency repairs one after another. I was ready to hop on an Amtrak to "anywhere". My hubby just grounded me with quiet and calm and my niece asked to spend some "fun" time with me and I felt better. I hope more of your days are good, but that your bad days are few.

Katie said...

Jasmine, I was so touched by your comment. Thank you for reading and for being part of my community.

Katie said...

Thank you, Winnie. I hope you're still feeling grounded and finding ways to bring in the good. Of course, if you need a little Amtrak vacation, there's nothing wrong with that! :)

tori said...

I know that you posted this a long time ago now, but I've failed at following blogs as completely as I've failed at posting to my own blog, so I'm only just getting to it. And it's perfect. Its timing is perfect, its sentiment is perfect, and it's really nice to hear your voice. xo!

Anonymous said...

Awe, thanks Tori. That's always nice to hear. - Katie


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