Some days I just wish I could get away from here. Not away from my city, my family or my home, just away. I don’t know what I’m searching for, away, but the concept of away just intrigues me. I don’t even know where away is. Its an enigma. A shining beacon of different-ness, is away. Here, right now, is not always a happy place. Here involves bloodwork and sore hips and emotional turmoil. Away looks picturesque from the outside- all rolling hills and glistening trees. Away is a perpetual summer. Away means intrigue and fascination. It allows for relaxation, in my mind. I don’t know how to get there, is the sticking point.
Because I’m a little blurry on the details, away remains fleeting. Away and its promises crop up when I’m panicking. If I could just get there I profess, I could beat it all. I could rise above and magically feel whole again. I would be able to escape it all, by getting away. By retrieving my sensibility and latching on- away.
Away is, however, only a dream. If I were to truly sit down and hash out the realities, I’d see that when I reach away it would become here. And here, I am but subject to my own fluctuations in motivation, in recovery and in wellness. Here is mundane. But it is here that I must recover. It is here that “real life” takes place. No, here is not sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. Here, there is war on the radio and sadness in the songs. Here is concrete, away is a floating cloud of enticement on the horizon. This is me, here, doing real, difficult work. Climbing up a mountain of my own creation, not to the dangling carrot of away but to a better here.