Slow Going

I am getting through the muck that is getting past a miscarriage. I say “muck”, because most days lately, I feel like I’m walking through the world in slow-motion. My feet feel heavy, like I’m walking through a muddy, mucky swamp or something. The world just seems to be zipping past me at light speed, while I trudge along.

I have to analyze my life plan. I have to re-evaluate my future. My whole existence has changed, and getting used to that is going to take some time. It takes a lot of energy, just to focus on that. So, it would stand to reason that the rest of my life would move a bit slower.

I don’t think I’m depressed, though (well, not anymore). For the past few mornings, I have woken up with a sense that I have been granted a new day to go out and do things and fix things and get my life back in order. I’m no longer afraid to face the world.

My confidence and my whole world view were completely shattered. But, I’m managing to pick up all the pieces, put them back together (albeit in a new way) and take a few steps forward.

It’s times like these when one can be amazed at their own resilience. You hear about other people’s misfortunes, and you think, “I can’t even imagine what I would do if that happened to me.” But, the truth is, you manage it somehow. You reach deep down inside of yourself and you pull out the courage and the strength you need to get by. And you look forward to all the tomorrows you have ahead of you, instead of fearing them.

Reputation

So, for three summers during college, I was a ride operator at an amusement park.

Ahem. No, not a carnie, those people travel. We were in the same, permanent spot. Haha.

So anyway, one of the rides I worked on was the diesel engine train, which was a blast to drive but also one of the more technical rides to operate in the park. And everything had to be timed just so. There were a ton of crossings that were operated by hand, so there was a lot of whistle signals and walkie talkies and the whole process was down to a science.

There was this one particular crossing near one of the entertainment stages, and at night it was tempting to go up and watch the show for a minute, to kill the boredom. But, you had to have your ears wide open for the whistle, so you could open the gate.

One night, a girl didn’t hear it, and the train crashed into the gate. Which was like a BIG deal. MAJOR deal. She didn’t lose her job, but it was not pretty for her record.

Anyway, she recently friended me on Facebook. And she’s all grown up now, just got married, is a graphic designer, sells handbags, lots of interesting stuff.

But, to me, she’s always “the girl who let the train crash into the gate”. I just cannot shake it.