Road Block
Another day, another weekly visit to the shrink’s office. Hmm I wondered this morning how this was all going to play out, based on last night’s entry here on DS. Same old same old, I filled out the evaluation rating sheet. I knew right when I was filling it out that the outcome of my emotions were not good. I could see his face, my doctor’s, before even being in the office yet. His eyebrows moving inward and a puzzle look as he analysis my questionnaire. I could even play out what he was going to say and what I would in turn say back. Same old, same old: just another session, just a bit sadder.
After I left the office my thoughts still played havoc with my emotions. I drove home the same way I went to the doctor’s office and found that I didn’t even realize there was construction work going on. I am in such a daze that my mind didn’t even realize that the opposite lane of traffic was blocked and closed. Unaware of this obvious situation, I made my turn to realize that the road was closed to oncoming traffic. I started to cry. Yes, cry about not being able to go through. And so, here is my analytical poetic analogy for this incident.
The path that I must go to get to my home use to be so clear. Easily assessable to see the distance and the foundation sturdy enough to hold and support me on my journey. Perhaps a few minor cracks and bumps along the way but very travelable. It would get me there the fastest and I knew it well. Now that I no longer can think straight or see straight the road is blocked. It is no longer a road. Gravel, rocks, concrete, and sand are chaotically dispersed along the ditches. Signs of caution and warnings of hazard: wrong way, detour, road closed blocking my view to what once was the road that I must travel. My journey ends, my uncertainty of taking another road confuses me, the direction that I now will have to take is longer and out of the way. Sure it will get me back to where I want to be but will I get lost?
Of course I turned my car around and made my detour, still weeping a bit. I made it home without getting lost just some wasted minutes, which is all that happened. I really hope that that is what my entire journey is, just redirecting me and that I will finally make it home safe and happy.
After I left the office my thoughts still played havoc with my emotions. I drove home the same way I went to the doctor’s office and found that I didn’t even realize there was construction work going on. I am in such a daze that my mind didn’t even realize that the opposite lane of traffic was blocked and closed. Unaware of this obvious situation, I made my turn to realize that the road was closed to oncoming traffic. I started to cry. Yes, cry about not being able to go through. And so, here is my analytical poetic analogy for this incident.
The path that I must go to get to my home use to be so clear. Easily assessable to see the distance and the foundation sturdy enough to hold and support me on my journey. Perhaps a few minor cracks and bumps along the way but very travelable. It would get me there the fastest and I knew it well. Now that I no longer can think straight or see straight the road is blocked. It is no longer a road. Gravel, rocks, concrete, and sand are chaotically dispersed along the ditches. Signs of caution and warnings of hazard: wrong way, detour, road closed blocking my view to what once was the road that I must travel. My journey ends, my uncertainty of taking another road confuses me, the direction that I now will have to take is longer and out of the way. Sure it will get me back to where I want to be but will I get lost?
Of course I turned my car around and made my detour, still weeping a bit. I made it home without getting lost just some wasted minutes, which is all that happened. I really hope that that is what my entire journey is, just redirecting me and that I will finally make it home safe and happy.
Replies
Yes, you WILL make it \'home\' safe and happy. You are aware and proactive and \'moving\' forward. Only those that do not \'move\' forward are at true risk of remaining lost.
:-) Patricia