Yes, I know muckiness is not a real word but it describes the dilemma I found myself in during most of last month, the month of May. The dictionary define the word muck as
1. moist farmyard dung, decaying vegetable matter, etc.; manure.
2. a highly organic, dark or black soil, less than 50 percent combustible, often used as a manure.
3. mire; mud.
4. filth, dirt, or slime.
5. defamatory or sullying remarks.
6. a state of chaos or confusion: to make a muck of things.
7. Chiefly British Informal. something of no value; trash.
For me, it was a combination of number three and six.
I felt as if I was in a marsh trying my best to navigate to the other side of wherever I mentally was. And, truthfully, I really was not sure where I was about anything in my life.
[I do not write this to gain sympathy. This is more of an account of a block of time in my current life.]
Disappointment about my lack of progress in my writing weighed me down. I sloshed through each day, sitting in front of the keyboard pulling words out of my brain. They cropped up on the screen one by one making sentences that surely could not have been mine. Yet, I kept banging on the keys. After a couple of weeks of this nonsense, I closed the files on all of my projects contemplating the idea of never facing another writing venture ever again.
May is a spring month where I reside. As it unfolded, it brought germs my body refused to resist. Yes, I got a nasty cold. This added to the muckiness of my daily life. There were times when I could not even write one full sentence without having to stop to use a tissue or two or three. I felt each step I took through the house was in sludge up to my thighs. Usually, when I get a cold, I sniffle and am slightly sluggish, with it lasting approximately three or four days. It is not a big deal by any means in my book of life. However, this time, the germs played havoc with me for over three weeks. It was just a week ago that I felt like I had what I consider a normal cold except for the time duration still dragging on and on.
While this was going on, I encountered a longing to be outside experiencing the warm temperatures. With May, reputably, being the time when nature is at its best and I did not have a fever, it seemed logical for me to spend a while out there. I sat in the lawn chair under the roof of the car port watching the rain fall out of the heavens. It did not last long though before the wind picked up, blowing millions of raindrops into the area where I sat. It was as if the wafting of wind were waiting for me to make my appearance every day just to drive the rain towards me that would ruin my few minutes of fresh air and serenity.
Everything has gotten a little better since the beginning of June. To say the least, I am relieved. I had begun to think I would never find contentment again.
I still sneeze and, sometimes, cough but I know it is just the after-cold junk. The words on the screen are beginning to look familiar to me again and motivation is not such a tug of war now. The rainstorms still dot the region where I live but I can enjoy more time soaking up nature without getting drenched.
Have circumstances ever made you feel lost?
“You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.”
― Shaun Hick