The Art of Running Away

Fanatical thoughts keep racing through my mind.

I picture myself dressed in black leather. Heavy black boots. A shiny, Dearth Vader helmet. And I'm riding a black motorcycle through a beautiful, sunshine-infused landscape. I'm meandering through small, rolling hills, and I don't stop. I just keep going. Far, far away.

Another thought-stream has me quitting my job, selling this house and moving to Denver. To take a few months off, breathe deeply again, and figure out where to go next in my life. Sure, we would eat-up the profit made from the house, but sometimes, isn't that what the money is for?

I'm trying to determine if I need to make this move "immediate" in order to save my life. I feel as though I'm dying in so many ways. The question is this: Is this a natural process that one goes through to separate from an existing life and launch a new chapter...or am I really dying? Before my sister passed away, I thought I was going through a normal separation process. Now, I'm not so sure. I have a newfound fear deep in my heart that is fueled by the lack of permanence in this lifetime. I am stunned by the uncaring, injustice of life. I am bewildered about why it was my sister Ann who got diabetes, and not Denise or myself.

And I am viscerally and soulfully saddened over the death of my sister.

I want to run away and be overwhelmed by all things new. To ease the pain and fill this gaping hole in my heart.