Can I share something with you? I'm a little down. I have been for a couple weeks. Even to the point of having a hard time blogging with any real passion. Because I've realized something that has sort of hit me in a hard way. In a hurtful way. Something that never really occurred to me until now.
Here's what I think.
I think some people are naturals. Just naturals.
They wake up in the morning and they just step into the water, like ducks, and swim around...comfortable, knowing, casual...calm...collected. A sixth sense...an innate sense of what to do, when to do it, and how to make it wonderful.
And maybe they do have their "moments" - but they're few. And even those moments are met with steady gaze and togetherness within, which in turn breeds peace and then happiness to those around them. A gentleness that begets more gentleness.
I'm not a natural. No. Not one bit.
And I'm ashamed of that. A lot.
This does not come easy to me at all. The swimming. It's not gentle or collected. It's chaotic. A constant struggle to get it somewhat right. To make it better. To get from one day to the next.
I wake up each day and waddle into the water...running back out because it's cold, easing in a minuscule portion of my body at a time...clumsily spilling myself into the murky unknown. Shivering. Miserable at times. Afraid. Cold...
Everything in me sometimes cries to get out and find another pond, but it's too late for that. And anyway, this is the pond I wanted. Want. ahem.
But it's easy to forget that when it's still dark out and I'm being forced into the water before the sun has come up, and wading out waist-deep like a buffoon who has lost her way. Scrambling...feeling around for something to hold onto. Watching all the other ducks, even swans, gliding past with ease and peace. Envy engulfing me. Anger and jealousy. Share the wealth, why don't you? Throw some of that my way? At the very least, try not to stare. I know I'm a mess. I know what this looks like...me sinking in my own mud. But look away...please.
Still struggling and getting myself caught in the thickness of my own struggle. Pulling and pushing myself to make progress and to be like the others.
But I'm not. Not like the others.
Instead I'm frustrated. My mold doesn't fit. It's all anxious and irritated and tired. All the time. Stretched. Worn down.
And it's young. New, even. But still...fragile and tired. A disappointment.
Not natural. Instead like forcing a horse to drink...finding that needle in the haystack.
What happened? Did I miss it? The boat?
Where is my own innate sense of what to do, where to go, when and how...and all that goodness and calm?
I'm feeling like a big let-down. A big clumsy bird in a pond of swans and ducks. Standing out everywhere I go because I'm stretched and cold and tired.
No one is more disappointed in me than me. No one could be.
I thought all along that I would be a natural.
It doesn't come easy.
I'm in the water...it's cold, it's murky. I don't know what to do or where to go...it's just dark and lonely and the other ducks pass by and look over at me with pity because they don't understand how you could want to be a duck your whole life, practice for it and work so hard for it...and yet
not be a natural at it.
If it walks like a duck...and quacks like a duck? It might just be trying really hard to be a duck...
And for me? Trying to be a good and natural
mom duck is making me weep...