Why Sideways?

My life has been consumed with constant movement. Always moving. I can remember times as a child running through the canyons near my childhood home in New Mexico, sharing my days with the trees and rocks, my closest friends on some days. Within my home, my movement was psychological. My mind could take me to whimsical and peaceful places. Places free of mental illness where parents were parents and kids were kids. Within my infinite daydream world, worries dissipated and burdens were no longer. Yes, movement helped me survive. I felt that if I kept moving, I might outrun the villain constantly following me, teasing me and beckoning me to stare it in the face. Yes, my Mom's mental illness was always there, behind every door, around every corner, in every box. If I could only outpace it, it might disappear, even for just a short while.....

I've realized I can't outpace the monster of my mother's severe mental illness. I must see it for what it is and was, and focus my movement on letting go, loving completely, and living in the present. I must stop running and start simply 'being.' I'm not perfect, you know, and I may not always be moving in a direction towards healing and wholeness. So, I relinquish control and know, at times, I will be walking sideways.

                       A watercolor painting of Los Alamos - the landscape I escaped to in my childhood.