Sock Drawer

When you're finally alone, truly in the silence no TV or phone or friends or anyone, and not even your dog is around, you discover something unfortunate about yourself.

You are a stuffer. Your mind has become like an overloaded sock drawer with no matches. Like the overloaded sock drawer, there are one or two mismatched socks peeking out of the not fully shut drawer in the dresser that is your mind. You've been stuffing issues like you've been stuffing socks, telling yourself you will get to them later and later never comes.

There are at least two dressers in this apartment. Possibly more but I haven't explored all the closets yet (no knowing what may jump out at me, or what I may find).  I generally only need two drawers and one drawer is holding my extra pillowcases. You know, in case of emergency. I decided that time alone is time enough to unload my overloaded sock drawer and neatly compartmentalize the issues I've been conveniently stuffing. The empty drawers will do nicely.

So I am changing. I'm giving myself some time laugh and time to cry over the mismatched socks that are my fears and hopes and worries and regrets. I'm matching the pairs and throwing out the odd ones, done hoping the match will show up one day (in other words, I'm done hoping I'll understand "why", I'm just letting go).

People, in general, fear to be alone for this very reason. But our overstuffed sock drawers make up the scaffolding of our lives. I think ignoring them prevents us from living fully. If Peter Pan has taught us anything it's that Living is an awfully big adventure.

So this week, I'm leaving the small town zombies and would be predators to each other. I am unpacking my sock drawer and making sense of life.