What does one do when they’re lost?  Guides would say “stay put” if you got lost in the wilderness; adults may instruct children to “find an adult” or maybe even “call home” (though this does require the knowledge and availability of a phone).  What about being mentally lost?  So many times, we think in the physical, but can’t fathom the non-physical.  This is one of those times.

I guess in this case, mental lost-ness (it’s a technical term) for me demands “write” but writing is also “retreat to safety” for me.  Odd juxatposition, at least it seems that way for me.  I’m lost, so let me stay in one place, but “anonymously scream into a void that may listen to my cries.”  I guess this gets me back on the scent of acorns leading me back home; or just puts me on the track to new ones, and I rediscover the old ones later.  That seems to be this journey.

I’ll recap my last “mental hurdles” and try to make sense of em.  Burn myself out to sickness, yet get praised for my output.  Continue on as “normal” and get slightly better physically for a few days.  Mentally fear I am not doing enough for the praise, start the burnout again.  Get “well enough” to maintain and then get hit in the face with a possible way out.  Here’s the thing, it’s a good way out.  It’s basically what I’ve been working towards for a while.  Come to terms with “burn yourself out to earn this chance” and cary on.  Continue to burn myself out, become so unaware of my pain, I find new bruises and back into sickness.

So let’s make sense of some of this and relate it to why I’m even typing right now.  My normal is burnout. My normal is “pedal to the floor” and “I’ll stop when I run out of gas.”  It’s an unhealthy place to be both mentally and physically.  But yet it’s comforting.  To me, this means I can keep on trucking and overcome a physical weakness, at least for a while.  I selfishly take pride in the fact that I can say: “I did this while feeling like garbage.”  But yet, here I am, mentally lost, happy, scared, annoyed, and semi sad all at the same time.  Re-watching old familiar tv shows, putting time into mundane tasks to avoid thinking about the scary things, happy to be in the situation, and hopeful it turns out well.

I guess that is the comfort.  The reason that when we are sick, we remember the things that made us feel better.  For some folks, tea, others, noodle soup, and still others, it was catching either The Price Is Right or Springer when their younger selves would have been in some school class.  I suppose that’s exactly why this is the catharsis that it is.  When I write, it all goes by as passing noise, I fully focus on the words in front of me, written or typed.  I remember that through words, I’ve planted forests and homes for many squirrel-kin.  The physical acorns may be lost to me, but I am oh so thankful to know they have served a purpose outside of my own.

I’m still ill, still in pain, still lost.  Yet I am hopeful.  I’ll use this as a starting point to finding myself once again.  When I can find my heading, I’ll start that next leg of the journey.  Where one trail goes left, I’ll machete the new path to the right.  Time marches on.  I won’t allow myself to get lost to the past.  Thanks for your time.  Mayhaps this lets you determine what your own “what do you do when you’re lost” and use it to your advantage.

-LostAcorns