We have now officially entered the Dangerous Months on the Cape. These are the months that drag on, each day laughably short but every week shockingly long. Little rituals are created to keep us sane — trivia on Wednesdays, live music on Saturdays and dinner parties any night of the week so that we can all get comfortably drunk in an attempt to mask the fact that the Cape forces us to behave like sixty year olds.
99% of the time, I love it, and embrace my inner old lady. The past few days, though, my mind has been in a fog. Post holiday-funk meets winter blues, with a splash of writer’s block.
Funnily enough, the weather has been matching my mood exactly. Yesterday, it was so foggy and eerie that the beach disappeared into the mist and the water was as smooth as glass. It was so piercingly quiet as I walked down the shore that I could hear my thoughts like a crowd of 16 year olds on the subway on a friday at 4pm. “SHHHHH!!!” I felt like hissing. Amidst the thoughts, jumbled up in 20-something year old angst, are questions that returns to me again and again: What am I doing? What do I want? These are the questions that feel as unproductive as demanding that a toddler “stop crying.”
One thing has become clear: the process of learning; learning what I really want, what I need, what makes me tick, isn’t a walk in the park. One day I think I have it all, and the next, my mind is like SIKE! and I’m left feeling cross-eyed and completely confused. But as Anais Nin says, “You live out the confusions until they become clear.”