I started this essay asA�content for my book. A�It turned into something that needed to be published here. So, here it is. -Kara
Sick. I feel it again.A� I dona��t know if it is the antibiotic that I have been taking recently, or the jet lag, or possibly the fact that I ate an extra handful of animal crackers with almond butter along with the tortilla veggie wrap I chefed together in my hotel room home.A� This home is just for the night of course.A� I have many one night stands like this. A�In hotel rooms. A�Alone. A�This is how the life goes.A� Completely alone, or always surrounded.
I went to the gym hoping that would help my sick.A� I use that a lot- the gym.A� To help me, and to cope.A� It didna��t help. A�I still have the nausea.A� And, no- ita��s not the signs of pregnancy.A� Fact.A� I napped upon arrival also.A� That usually can fend away feelings of fatigue for a moment at least.A� Unfortunately, I woke thinking that I wanted to stay in bed forever.A� Or if that wasna��t possible, just to stay in this timezone long enough to feel better.A� Or to feel.
Since I was little, I have displayed an aversion to napping.A� The activity is now part of my adulthood life out of necessity.A� I cana��t survive without sleeping whenever time allows.A� This sleeping does not usually happen when I want it to, but not much happens when I want it to these days.A� Thata��s life.A� Life happens when it feels like it, and there is little control that anyone of us can exert against happenings sometimesA�[TWEET THIS].A� I still claw for any ounce of control that I can maintain in any part of my life.A� Ia��m not sure why I wona��t give up this futile fight for control.A� This is probably my vice, my need for control.A� The always present demon on my shoulder.
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When I was a toddler, the only way that my parents could manage to make me sleep during daylight hours was to strap me in a car seat and drive around.A� The problem is I hated car seats, so it really was Mom and Dad trading one horrible two year old tantrum for another.A� I would scream and fume as any adorable devil child would do over being tied down.A� Apparently balking at tie-down has been a long standing point of dissension.
I look at the text as I roll over on the fluffy white bed.A� A UK Grey shadows the grassy courtyard outside my room.A� It seeps through the shuttered windows.A� I welcome the grey.A� This message on my iPhone screen pushes the gloom aside, nosily inquiring-
a�?What do you want to do then?!?a�?
These words are followed by more than the necessary amount of apostrophes and question marks, flaunting its presence in my life and demanding its own answers. Well, I would like these answers too.A� Let me ask you this:
How can one so assuredly know what is wanted, while simultaneously remaining in a state of utter obscurity over what to do?
This does not make sense.A� I do not make sense.A� Why am I on these never ending searches to make sense of shit that doesna��t make sense? I need to stop this.
So what do I want?A� Maybe I want too much.A� I am told by that God Inspired Book to be content in all situations, but also to continue to reach for the prize. A� Well, Ia��m sure as hell not content, but that discontent has been, and is one of strongest motivators, because I don’t want to stay here.
Well, God.A� If this has turned into me talking to you, and if you are actually listening, ita��s quite simple what I want.
I want to snuggle alone in these white sheets, and fluffy pillows, falling into the beautiful dreams and hopes, and wake one day their realities.
I want to be inspired with creativity.
I want to do good.
I want to feel love.A� You know, that one kind? A�That last longer and deeper than my flight schedules.
I want to find acceptance.
And for some reason, this seems like too much to want.