Maybe I am crazy. What other explanation can there be?
I think I am a wanderer in my heart and in my feet. I am a square peg trying to do the "right" thing. I have a wonderful husband and two wonderful kids and I have done things, some of which I'm not proud, because it is important to me to enable their dreams.
If I am honest, though, it has been at the expense of my dreams in some way. I have put on lead boots to hold me down, keep me rooted here where no one truly spreads their wings.
I knew, too, that this was happening. That niggling sense in the back of my brain told me. Every day I am here I am counting the seconds, counting the minutes. I'm sure I could go to a psyciatrist and get a diagnosis- bipolar, depressed, manic, flat out crazy- whatever. I could go on medication that would make every thing alright.
I think that is why I am sick, because I have the shackle- however golden it may be.
I know in my heart of hearts, though, I am a wanderer. Sometimes I wonder if I will pack a bag and disappear.. The thing is, I have met other people with wings, wanderers, runners... and I've seen their wings wither, their feathers fall out, until maybe they don't even need the shackle to hold them down anymore.
I try to tell myself that my wings are there, intact, that I will find that day to stretch them wide and leap. I imagine soaring but know it is not time for that right now. For now I try to placate myself with helping others spread their wings. I WILL fly again. I just hope my wings will wait.