The Mean Reds

Has it ever seized you? That quiet numbness of being alone and full of ennui at the same time? Like being trapped underwater and you can't breathe but you don't die either.

I'm feeling that way right now. Suspended is a good word for it I suppose. It's times when I feel like this that make Lent seem like such a formidable challenge. I'm alone a lot, so the idea of cutting myself off from all my usual distractions at a time like this fills me with dread. What if I just find more nothing instead of the something I need?

I think though, that during Lent my solitude, ennui, even my angst will serve an actual purpose. My hope is that it will push me out of the known and into the possible. I can't call where I am right now my "comfort zone" because I am often uncomfortable in it. But I know this place well, I've made camp here, trying to content myself with the beauty on the horizon.

What if there's nothing inside of me to get me out of here? What if this is all I really am?

Don't begin to prepare an answer, a pat, certain, well termed cliche to refute these questions. That is precisely the point. Not to shy away from the terrifying possibility of what I have always wondered could be. Face the question with both eyes open.

Could I truly be something empty and tired and lax, living to old age but repeating the same year after year after year, or could I expand, flourish, and fill to something that moves with the seasons? Could I be more than all the suppressants I pump in to numb myself out?

I've been waiting my whole life to begin.