Unravel

Where a single word with two meanings reminds me, eventually, of my early morning sensory overload.

One little simple word, used in such opposite ways.

“I unraveled the truth about why I was so unhappy.”
“As a result, the constants in my life began to unravel.”

We humans… always trying to find a way to undo what we’ve done. Always trying to spin a yarn that leads us to a different end product. This need to reframe in order to survive is reflected in just this simple word.

There is a certain sense of peace I get from knowing that overtime I can change my perspective on things just by willing myself to do it. The proverbial half glass question, the grass is always greener debate, the harsh truth about both sides of any coin.  All of these things are under my control, even when some one tries to console me by telling me they are not. I just have to own reality, and promise myself not to unravel as I stare it down.

This morning, walking to work, I noticed the buds on some of the trees were unraveling into lush groupings of leaves, and looking around the intersection at which I had paused, I realized the humans around me looked so at ease. Springtime brings out a sense of lazy delight in those who worship sun and water. Meanwhile, I am clinging to my memories of golden, ice chilled leaves. Others shed their cocoon while I am wrapping myself in a blanket against the air conditioning, tugging at the fraying ends, watching the tips of tassels begin to unravel. And I wait. Waiting for the first pumpkins on the sidewalks of grocery stores, the first biting breeze to push my hood back from my sunglass-covered eyes. I am the vampire of Summertime, hidden in my deepest insecurities,  sorting through the sweaters I will need to replace by September.

And as everyone else hides in their blankets to avoid the grasp of autumn, I wrap myself up and step outside, riding an arctic current straight into Winter.

 

 

 

 Unravel

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