Personal Chaos: Life Does Not Always Seem to Make Sense

Some days make sense: you get up in the morning, you know what you’re going to be doing. You might not like it, but it’s just a part of it.

Other days don’t make sense. No matter how much you know on a rational level that one day bleeds into the next and that time moves forward, it seems as though you bounce around. Moving forward means taking five steps back, running in a circle until you stop but only because you fall over then getting up and stumbling through, trying to figure out where you are, who you are, what you were trying to do and where you thought that you were going to end up.

That’s what chaos does: it tangles things. One day you’re scared stuck, the next day you’re moving forward despite the fear and though it’s big and you feel imperceptibly tiny somehow you know that you’re moving (and that can be scarier than whatever it is that you’ve been afraid of).

One post you say you are running away. The next that you are letting go of fear. Doesn’t make much sense.

Running away. Letting go. They don’t seem to make much sense, I suppose. But time and thought isn’t always linear and what makes it to the page isn’t always in the order that’s anything but real in that moment.

Sometimes running away is letting go - especially when you’re surrounded by chaos - because sometimes running away from the fear means running toward the things that scare you the most.