When The Rhythm of Life Is Disturbed

Editor’s Note: Some of you may have noticed and wonder why some bloggers are talking about NaBloPoMo 2013. It stands for National Blog Posting Month, frequently abbreviated as NaBloPoMo and it refers to the practice of blogging every single day during November.

One week ago I was packing my car with the few remaining pieces of my apartment and preparing for the 1,500 some odd mile trip back home.

Almost ten months earlier I left the family behind to take a new job and to begin forging a new life for us, far from home in a strange new land where we would get a fresh start.

It was a hard but necessary move and one I made with limited second guessing and a do what it takes attitude. When I arrived on the new frontier I did my best to lay the foundation for a fruitful and fulfilling life on the Ponderosa. Back home more than a few people teased me, asked me what a Jew does in Texas and I teased them right back.

Teased them right back because I was one of the few who was actually born in Los Angeles. My dad was born there too and I had grandparents who had moved there at a young age so my roots are almost 100 years old in LA.

And  I knew more than a few members of the tribe who could say the same about Texas and more than a few transplants that had been living there for decades.

The Long Ride Home

The trepidation I felt leaving L.A. went away many months ago and so I was somewhat surprised to realize that it was back, but that this time it was because I was going back to what was supposed to be familiar.

Twenty-one hours in the car gives you more than a few moments to think and I did quite a bit of it. I worried a bit about whether the uncertainty I felt meant that I was a man without a state because nothing felt right to me.

Texas wasn’t quite right without those kids and LA wasn’t quite the same without Texas. It was disconcerting and I wondered if it was just nerves or if I would drive back and discover that the gut was truly unhappy.

And then I got here and confirmed that nothing feels quite right.

I am on a seesaw and it is irritating the fuck out of me.

Yeah, I sometimes swear in my posts.

Been amazing to be back with the kids, missed them far more than I ever said but I am off balance now and frustrated because I haven’t been able to find the rhythm of life I knew.

The Notebook- One Week

I keep reminding myself it has only been one week and that I need to give myself time.  Keep reminding myself of that and then I hear Dylan singing Subterranean Homesick Blues, “You don’t need a weatherman, To know which way the wind blows” and I hear something else.

I hear those echoes of the future and feel something I can’t quite describe. Reminds me of a moment from the summer when I sat on the couch in my apartment watching The Notebook, belly full of steak and a heart that was…happy.

When I think of that moment the discombobulated feeling goes away and I start to feel centered. Reminds me that though I feel a bit like I am in hell now things will adjust.

This is a temporary moment in time and we just need to roll with it.

Give Me A Date

I want a date. I want to know precisely when that rhythm will be restored but I don’t have it yet. Don’t have that date but I have the feeling, that warm spot in the belly that says relax and all will be worked out.

It is not easy to listen to. Not easy to let go of trying to control what you can’t, so I am just doing my best to manage it. And somewhere along the way I will find that rhythm of life again.