“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” — Douglas Adams
Did I mention I have fears? I might have mentioned that once or twice.
Did I mention I have become something of a recluse, a hermit almost, over the last couple of years? Did I mention my social skills, never great to begin with, have essentially atrophied to zero? Did I mention that? Did I mention that I – I who once hiked completely across the Grand Canyon in fourteen hours during temperatures up to 125 degrees – I have become almost comatose and out of shape during the last couple of years. I don’t guess I mentioned that, did I?
Did I mention that my brain went into hibernation a few years ago and no matter how I poke it and jab it, it just doesn’t seem to want to wake up. I probably didn’t mention that either.
So, no matter how much this scares me, I know this is something I have to do if I want to live because, really, right now I might as well be dead. I eat. I sleep. I breath in. I breath out. But I’m not living.
I go for days sometimes without seeing anyone, without talking to anyone. And then, that string of days is usually only broken up by going to Wal-Mart and talking to the checkout person. If this all sounds too pathetic to you, think how it sounds to me whose life it is!
So, that is why, if there needs to be a “why”. There is still a spark in me that just refuses to lay down and die like a good little senior citizen. I am going to get out there in the world. I am going to get dirty and uncomfortable and tired and hungry, and yes, I know this old body is going to hurt – maybe a lot.
It is better than dying here in this sterile house alone though. I fear that even more.