The forest for the trees

Sometimes it becomes hard to see the forest for the trees. Ever been there? When you seem lost in a quagmire of confusion and uncertainty. I move in the dark, unable to see the present or future on my own terms. It's fuzzy and foresty. Between those trees are bright stars but the view is blocked by branches and tree trunks and forest. And I can't seem to see my way to the clearing and those beautiful stars.

Last night I tossed and turned in bed until 230 am. I resolved nothing, I mused about everything, I sighed and cried and read and shed blankets and fussed and mussed. Fuck I hate nights like this. Lots has happened in my life recently but I have not had time to process it all. Work is too busy, life is too busy, I have no time for settling down on the forest floor and looking at those trees and smelling that beautiful smell and saying yup this is the forest.  Those are the trees. There they are.

My photography and my reading and my writing and new relationships and my self are all up there on those branches and I can't reach them tonight. I am floating in a bed of pine needles on a forest floor with things in the way of my view. These 230 am musings confuse me and muddle my sense of who I am and what I want to be. They trip me up over the truth of what I need versus what I want versus what I can have.  They leave me feeling like I am eight years old again.  It used to be clearer, now it is not. Kind of like this post, not really clear is it? Can't really see the forest for the tress eh?  Welcome to my world.

Life is really funny like that. When we reach for stars and that view of the beautiful forest and get blocked by the trees at every turn.

As with everything in my life these past three and a half years since Terry died, I wait for the change, I try to process it, I try to stay patient and calm the fuck down.  But sometimes it doesn't happen and instead you have a sleepless night in Dartmouth and a blocked view of the forest.