New Shores

I’ve been without a computer for weeks now. It sits, carefully packed, in a box from our move. As my family and I have been rearranging our lives so completely, I just haven’t had time to make that box a priority, so there it sits for the moment. 

Right now, I’m typing this entry from my phone; not ideal, but serviceable enough to work out the maddening anxieties that run like a naked wild man streaking through public hoping, for a moment, to feel alive.

Put your clothes back on naked man, I could do without the building sense of dread.

We find ourselves in a new home, in a new state, much different from that which we’d grown accustomed. I’m still doing the same work I’ve been doing for the last 12 and half years, only from a new location. It’s one of the perks of my occupation: move around a lot, long segments of time spent abroad – away from those I love most.

To be honest with you, I wish I had the money and the opportunity to settle down; plant roots. I am grateful for what I do, don’t get me wrong. I have done a lot of good here. I have been a source of comfort and strength for those in crisis – and on more than one occasion I’ve been a literal life saver.

Still I wish I could step away, give my family a home, and enter into the teaching profession I have longed for since I was young. I guess at age 33 I expected to have settled. Rooted.

I’m not ashamed of my situation. As I said, I am in a line of work where I help the hurting, lost, scared, and confused. It’s work I’m proud to do every day. Perhaps the grass simply looks greener on the other hill. Perhaps I believe there is better I could be doing for my own family? 

Until I figure it out, I’ll keep pressing forward doing the best I can. I’ll continue to write with the dream of being published, I’ll continue to work to take care of those who cross my path, and I’ll strive to do all things for the love of my family.

Enough of the self doubt. Time for work.

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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