Out of Sorts

I’ve been feeling out of sorts lately.

I think the winter blues are settling in.  I just want to hibernate, basically.

In a way, I am hibernating.  I haven’t been keeping up with blogs I normally read, or even always commenting when I do.  I haven’t been calling friends as much, or emailing those who are too far-flung to call.   The weather has not been conducive to going outside in weeks, at least, not when I’m permitted to be outside and not chained to my desk at work.   I have particularly not been nuts about the idea of doing my weekly shopping.

By the time I get home from a stressful day at work, all I want to do is go climb in bed with a book or DVD and a plate of dinner, or drown myself in music.  Coincidentally, that’s also how I want to spend the weekends.

At the same time, though, I’ve had upswellings of hope.  I hope to finally move out of my parents’ house and my hometown in May.  My heart wants one particular city, and I hope to make an exploratory trip there in April.  I’ve never been there, but, from where I sit, it feels like I know it, like somewhere deep down in my bones, I know that city.  I hope, that when I do make that exploratory trip, I find it to be my home.

On the flip side of the hope, however, is doubt.   Sometimes I am able to dismiss it, but sometimes it settles in for a while, right alongside the hope.  I don’t have much job experience under my belt, so I worry about my ability to find employment in an ever-more-challenging economy.  I wonder if I’m making the right decision, sometimes, in even contemplating the move I’m hoping for, which is across the country from where I am.   I wonder if I have the courage it will take to make it living wholly on my own, or even ample logic and skill.

Once my so-called gremlins get on a roll, they can be particularly vicious.

I keep telling myself to trust.  I am trying to trust that I’m being drawn the way that I am for a reason, and that, since there’s a reason, I will find my needs provided for and everything will work out.   This, of course, goes against the way I was taught to think, and, therefore, it is a struggle.

It’s just…I have this pervasive sense that there’s more to this life and this world than what I’m living and seeing.  Or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking that this is not all there is.

Either way, I have to find out.  I can’t just stay put and not even try.

This was not what I intended to write, and I’m not at all sure it makes sense, but at least it’s honest.

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