Musings from the laundromat: Puzzled
It’s hot in here today – they’ve turned the A/C off and left the fans to stir the fabric softened air. And it’s busy. I almost didn’t come, then found $3 worth of quarters and decided to.
There’s a small child humming ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ (or maybe it’s the alphabet song? Why DO they both have the same tune? Who got away with that? If Coldplay put a song out with that same tune, they’d be called out on it immediately.)
She’s skipping and spinning her arms around like a windmill. It’s adorable in an ‘Okay, it was cute to hear the first five times, but please now teach the child to hum in tune’ sort of way.
There is a man in a wheel chair who everyone is feeling good about being nice to.
Bras hanging shamelessly from a distant laundry cart.
Husbands and wives helping each other fold.
Chatter and the swishing sound of water and …. (It’s SO hot – regurgitated air now – it’s lost its fabric softener charm).
I love to watch people. Such an assortment today.
Even with such a varied group, I still feel out-of-place.
Like I came from a mismatched puzzle box – never had a chance at being a complete picture, just endless edges and corners.
Years of different clumsy thumbs (my own included) trying to press parts of me into other parts and places with no success.
I’m the girl at the table typing away – observing.
The girl who eviscerates herself before you all – hoping to purge some of the septic thoughts I have. Hoping to share some of the beautiful ones.
And meanwhile, there’s an old man in cowboy boots and a cowboy hat standing chewing gum in front of me.
Does he feel like a mismatched puzzle?
I think that if I knew I wasn’t the only one …
I can’t be. But everyone else seems to be able to just get on with ‘normal’ life, whatever that is. And when I broach the topic of this never easing darker side – I’m almost always told to look at the lighter side.
As if I don’t.
I see a kaleidoscope of colors. So vividly. The darkest of dark and the most pure and bright of light.
Taking the garbage out this morning I smiled at a small rabbit in a bush nearby the dumpster. Watched it hop away to the vacant lot when Butters announced with a bark that she had spotted it too.
Daily barrages of good and optimism and evil and pessimism fill me. I see it. All.
I find myself thinking more and more about just being done – dying – whoa! It’s ok. Those thoughts are countered by a morbid fear of dying so – no worries there.
But this is truly how I feel lately.
Like, there’s nothing more in store. That hamster wheel mode again. Groundhog Day.
I’m mediocre at the things I love to do. And that’s okay I suppose. I at least try the things I love.
Like this – this blog. It’s been
Chicken Debauchery Soup for Soul. For me anyway.
Clearly it’s not enough though.
I don’t know how to fill the increasingly dark empty spot inside me. I don’t know if there is enough light to capture and place there.
I’ve looked. Under religious rocks and in spiritual crevices … philosophers, therapy, steps and meditation. Serving others – serving humanity – having hope – trying ‘one more time’ to offer my heart.
Haven’t found it.
I have to find it though.
When I said I almost didn’t come today, it wasn’t just due to money. I had to literally tell myself out loud to shower. “Come on! Shower. Let’s do this!”
I just wanted to stay in my room.
Away from the barking dogs and crazy neighbors. Away from the passing cars, drive by glances and endless dirt.
Just to be in my nest and … be.
I’m becoming increasingly agoraphobic. No joke.
This is why I share so much – maybe a part of me is afraid if I don’t get these thoughts out – I’ll be emotionally agoraphobic too. Something needs to feel comfortable leaving the safety of my walls. So let it be my thoughts.
Little humming child just walked by with a stuffed bunny almost bigger than her. Both of them in pink. Wheelchair man is reading – he is a handsome, older man. I’d love to know his story.
The bras have been removed from the metal bar of the folding cart – the chatter has subsided I have 13 minutes left on my dryer and then I can go home.
Lock the door and tidy up before curling up with Butters in my nest.
When I’m there – doing that – I fit.
Posted on November 9, 2014, in Musings from the laundromat and tagged agoraphobic, cowboy chewing gum, humming child, musings from the laundromat, puzzle pieces, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, wheelchair man. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.