Lost and Found

I've been hiding and searching, contemplating, wandering, jumping from manic energy to listlessness while this new medicine takes effect.  Trying to make sense of my life, when nothing makes sense anymore.  I always imagined that at thirty years old I'd know who the hell I was, confident in my identity. When was I supposed to have this all figured out?  Is there a manual they forget to give me, The Age You Finally Feel Like An Adult.  I haven't read it.  I do have a well worn copy of Well, Shit. I Didn't mean to do that...Again.  I've lost bits of me along the way.  Little pieces chipped away here and there, until there's nothing left holding me together except stubbornness.

I've been doing a lot of staring out of windows, staring at my hands, watching terrible movies and clinging to my husband and friends. Bobby's absolute confidence and unending patience with me has been the bridge that has carried me over the worst of myself.  Bambi, Jennifer, and Sara have been the sounding boards, the hand holders, while I knit myself back together.  Without their encouragement and laughter this journey would be lonely and ridiculous. 

I admire the confident people, who always seem to know who they are, what they want.  They calmly navigate rough waters with nary a hair out of place.  While I literally and figuratively stumble through my life, they don't even break a sweat.  I cannot relate, at all.  

I don't believe i'm supposed to figure everything out.  I'm always going to be a little off, a little lost.  Always burning inside, never calm and quiet.  There will always be a riot in my head, my heart will always be too full. The trick is figuring out how to feel wild and grounded at the same time.  Is there a way to master this?  Time will tell.

So here I go again, again.  And again, and again...