Tag Archives: Introspection

LOST; and in search of my inner Lesley Gore

12 Feb

Have you ever been lost?  Truly in a spot of unrecognized territory?  I have.  Once, while vacationing on the island of Oahu, Hawaii.  I took my husband and two children on an adventure we will never forget.  I am an avid hiker, at least the Rivka I am most familiar with, I can say, is an avid hiker.  So to an unfamiliar trail I took my family, the call of true adventure my thrill.  We began our trek to the hidden waterfall with somewhat of a visible trail to guide our way.  And though at many times we were unsure if our chosen steps were leading us in the direction we hoped to go, we were offered a smidgen of hope from a random passerby to assure us our desired destination did, in fact, exist.  So while we had a successful venture to the pool of water I had longed to see, our hike back to safety took a wrong turn.  The rain began to fall…and fall, and fall.  And with it, the trails were completely washed away.  Banana palm trees lay fallen in the mud.   Our once familiar markers were sailing down the, now flowing, creek leaving us truly lost and in a place of unrecognizable territory.  Gone were the one or two previous people who kept us on course.  Gone was solid ground, only slippery mud and a husband/father with a guitar (because every hiker totes a musical instrument, right?), a wife/mother with a bit of fear lurking inside her, an optimistic boy, and a little girl who promptly spilled the rationed trail mix as if paying homage to the ritualistic offerings from the island’s past.  In that moment, flip-flop bedecked, we the Bent family were considering how it might feel to sleep in jungle-like surroundings with no food or water left for sustenance.  Yet plenty of rain and who knows what else!  We obviously made it out, thanks to the guitar and the little boy.  No questions please.

Well, here I am again.  Lost.

Where is Rivka?  An honest to goodness question circling within my soul.  Hello…anybody home?

Oh the logistics of my whereabouts are accounted for, but the “me” I am so familiar with seems to be missing.  I am not depressed.  I know what that looks and feels like.  I am not oppressed, I have been there too.  I am simply too pooped to come out to play.  Every day for the past three weeks I have awoke in the morning and begun my search.  Or I lie awake through the night unable to properly sleep, thus getting a jump start on my quest.  I am looking for my Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows.  I am hoping for the feelings of “everything that’s wonderful is how I feel when we’re together” to return into my view again.  You know, my Lesley Gore!

Yes I have been lost before.  However, I have never before been in a predicament of unfamiliarity as result of too much pressure.  I have been blue, I have been burdened, I have been overwhelmed, and I have been tired.  But being in a place of enduring the weight of too many difficult circumstances culminating simultaneously equating to a pressurized intensity unbearable to my body, mind, and soul, is new terrain.

Unable to speak.  Unable to write.  Unable to muster up the energy for thought.  Pressurized, and thus, vaporized.

I began to formulate an ‘SOS’ type text to send out to my girlfriends who I figured could handle a cry for help.  But even that weight felt too heavy to lift; end result, delete.  Prayer.  Ah, the Heavenward thoughts which unite the human spirit with the spirit of One.  Key word in previous sentence being, “thoughts”…mine are bankrupt.  Fill in the blanks.

As I sit here in my living room writing, post a three week hiatus, my husband enters into the room to inform me our plumbing has backed up yet again.  We have a root ball blocking our sewage flow.  Tomorrow the dig will begin, at least I will know where to find me…on another path leading toward shit.  I think I’ve written about that in the past.  Sorry, the color brown seems to suit me.  And a statement like that does echo the voice of depression, I apologize.  I am merely utilizing my literary license to invoke the melodramatic.  Truly, sewage problems I can handle…I know how to squat over a bag covered bucket!

Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows…the search continues.  “Lesley, are you out there?!”

P.s. It is a good sign that I was able to formulate a post.  Cheers to that!  Now may you please enjoy the song, and remember it’s that time of year again when the baby king hides out in a cake.  😉

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Who’s That Girl?

19 May

I have found myself, of late, with some extra time on my hands…actually, in my schedule.  Periodically I will have one day in the week, sometimes two back to back, where the square box on the monthly calendar is literally blank.  Now mind you, there is ALWAYS work needing to be done even when the scheduler is devoid of listed appointments.  Such as papers awaiting an organizational interlude, laundry (not just clothes, linens and towels too) in need of soap and water, walls so smudged they are doubling as finger-printing devices, dust bunnies multiplying as often as their animalia counterpart, weeds, weeds, and more weeds always awaiting their demise (though they are, more often than not, winning the battle), windows and mirrors longing, begging, aching for a nominal assertion of ‘spit and polish’, AND many more perfunctory tasks that if I don’t stop listing them now will, I fear, cause me to lose my reading audience.  For the mere listing of them will remind one, perhaps two-three-or four, readers of a mundane chore awaiting their attention as well.

Yet regardless of the ever present occupations, the ones that call to me regularly, there are days when the outside forces, which pull me from my domesticity, are quieted.  And when I come upon one such day, and in choosing to ignore the aforementioned “to do’s” , I find myself wondering…Who am I anymore?…

  • Do I still like swimming in the ocean?
  • Why am I not wanting to go rowing?
  • Why am I enjoying the quiet so much?
  • What do I ‘enjoy’ eating?
  • Do I like swimming?
  • Do I still like roller coasters?
  • Am I interested in finishing my undergraduate degree?
  • Where would I like to work if I had to go out and get a job?
  • Am I going to be able to handle old age?
  • Do I like gardening?
  • Do I still like hiking?
  • Should I keep my hair short, or grow it out long again?
  • Am I inspired?
  • If I didn’t live where I am living, where would I want to live?
  • Why am I not motivated to get my bicycle tires fixed?
  • Why do I always want to get lost in IKEA?
  • How do I avoid using words such as: so, all, got, and, but, etc.
  • When will I again be ready to read a novel, short story, or play?

The contemplations above are nothing compared to the strange phenomenon that comes over me when I spend the first part of the day piddling around the house.  The phenom being, I lose ALL motivation to leave it (it being my home).  In fact, I have had to drudge up some serious creativity just to execute a proper meal for my family–as a result of forgoing the trip to the grocery store because leaving the house was too daunting a task.  Additionally, I have had fantasies of visiting varying friends, on my ‘calendar-free’ days, only to lose the ambition when the day actually presents the opportunity.  And yes, I realize this past year has been a full spectrum run of events; but don’t you think I should be higher functioning by now?  Especially as I have been given several days of rest from time to time?  Especially as Cole is more capable and independent (in his self-care)?  Well regardless of your answer, I personally feel I should be at a higher level of energy…at the very least I desire a higher level of functionality.

Even so, with bereft vigor, I do what I must and is necessary to keep order and semblance of a productive life.  All the while unable to evade my own introspection…who’s that girl, running around with you?  And though I share my ruminations, you need not trouble yourselves in attempt to procure for me a resolution.  I assure you, I will find her.  She is not far off I think, only slightly derailed…perhaps a bit exhausted. 😉

P.s. My musings are inward focused and not to be projected, in any manner, toward any one individual outside of myself.

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