I would have to say, for the last year and a bit, things have felt just a little bit off for me.
That’s not to say that life has been bad. Work has been great, writing has been going as well as can be expected, and I’ve had some great times.
It’s just there’s always been something that doesn’t feel quite right, and like your tongue trying to pick at a piece of food stuck between your back teeth, my mind keeps going back to it.
It happens on a weekly basis I would say, and without a real warning, I’ll just wake up in the morning and everything will just seem a bit heavier. Work will take more effort, writing is strenuous and just the act of moving from between the warm sheets to the shower can seem like learning to walk all over again.
This past weekend I think I finally started to figure out what that “something” was.
I still don’t know what it is, so don’t expect some magical, life-changing revelation to be revealed here. So, if you came for that, you can stop reading now.
As a general routine, I try and get back to visit the family in Kitchener on weekends that I have off, however, I decided to say in Oshawa this weekend.
I spent Friday night working at the pub for a few hours before heading home to sleep. Saturday morning was filled with coffee, reading and sleeping, before I realized how gorgeous it was outside and headed down to the lake.
I walked along the shoreline with my camera slung over my shoulder. Lakeview Park is only a short stretch of beach before the land juts out on a short peninsula and things become too rocky to walk anymore.
I made it all the way to the end and sat atop a picnic table someone had dragged down from the park proper and left resting among the dry stones. The table was buried almost to the stools, so I sat atop it and looked out over the lake.
There’s these moments that only come with the changing of the seasons. A somewhat warm breeze felt near the end of winter, or the dry smell of leaves that comes as summers fades to fall. It’s in these moments that I always have these serious seconds of clarity.
It’s like my brain, realizing that if something as large as the season can change, if Mother Nature can roll over and warm an entire continent, than definitely any issue I have can be solved in some way.
If you look back in this blog you’ll find several times that I’ve written about the changing seasons and the impact it has on me. It’s these moments of clarity that I’ve been trying to describe, but could never really put into words before.
In each of those entries before, I talk about how much better I felt when I knew the seasons where changing. I still feel that way now, but there was something else.
Previously, the changing seasons always helped me to overcome something, whether it was making a big decision or overcoming a block in my story.
This time around, there was nothing for the moment of clarity to solve.
It was this realization, the fact that maybe I’ve actually solved the problems, or gotten myself into a position in life that I don’t have any serious issues plaguing me, that I was so surprised about.
Sitting on the cold wood of the picnic table I tried to figure it out.
We become so wrapped up in our own personal bullshit that it almost becomes a part of us, the problem tries to pass itself off as personality.
However, I think as our minds finish dealing with that issue, getting over it, passed it, solving it, whatever, it can take a little while for you to actually realize that it’s gone.
It’s seriously ironic that the lack of anything to feel unhappy about can actually make you unhappy.
I sat there for about 20 minutes thinking about this, as I did, the tide slowly started to creep its way up toward the picnic table. The water rushed underneath, the liquid purring over the grey stones, before receding again.
I took advantage of one of these breaks and hopped off the table, making my way back to the park, thinking about my plans that night.
Thanks for reading,