Mental Health| Finding Peace| Writing| Positive Changes

A Place of Peace

Healing when I fight my anxiety once again and find another place of peace to write

The calm, steady ripple of water. Its silvery surface is repainted by reflecting every light and every color that surrounds it, creating the illusion of an identical world to ours just below it. “As above, so below.” As I stared down from the boardwalk at it, I had to wonder if water was what inspired that philosophy.

The timeless life-giver, the boundless serenity. Of course, it would be present in one of the places my mind can finally clear. A place of peace, a simple wooden bench on an old boardwalk, surrounded by cypress trees, swamp ferns, mosses, quiet, and water.

And in this particular place, the water is still. It had flooded in from the river during the last rain, giving a reprieve to the life that depends on it. Giving my mind something to focus on and to finally put it at ease. Only occasionally interrupted by the occasional dragonfly hopping across it.

I had been struggling to write for a couple of weeks already. It wasn’t so much writer’s block as just the chaos of too much on my mind all at once. The voices of my anxieties, insecurities, doubts, and wonders all mixing together into a cacophony of white noise with no purpose or direction. I had tried to force my way through it. That had always just been my quick-fix for it. Grit my teeth through the anxiety and just do what I need to.

Quick-fixes, however, never really solve the problem. What I needed was a change of scenery. Which meant getting out. I had several ideas of where to go and what would actually help. Places I knew I would enjoy sitting and writing and would find much needed peace. But there was the small complication of getting there before the doubts in my head and the wounds still healing from the previous year got in my way.

One of my favorite parks was at the top of this list and today I finally decided I was going to do it. I was going to grab my laptop, some water, some change, and I was just going to go. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t plan it. I grabbed what I needed, told someone where I was going for safety purposes, and was out the door.

I hadn’t come to the park before to write. I met with friends, I walked around, I daydreamed. Yes, I would come to the park to do everything else. But not to write. Despite the fact that there were so many days during 2023 I told myself I was going to. I knew I needed a change of scenery.

I knew I needed to get out of my house and rejoin the world, even if only in small ways at first. 2023 had been a very difficult year for me, giving my anxieties, all those nasty voices in my head, all the fodder they needed to keep my hand off the doorknob and my head in the safety promised by home.

However, 2024 is going to be a different year. I made myself that promise as I watched the fireworks on New Years Eve. After losing so much during the previous year, my relationship, my job, and very nearly my life, I have had a lot of healing to do. While I may still be waiting for the wounds to finish closing, I refuse to let my anxieties continue to have their fun.

I took me a while to get out of the house today. I found myself stalling inside everything else I needed to do. Household chores, getting dressed, taking care of the dog. It’s easy when the excuses are productive ones. But that is also a betrayal of myself. I’ve never taken the easy way out in my life and I’m not about to start. No. It’s the beginning of another year with so much hope on the horizon.

I have been given such an amazing gift through my writing and I finally have the courage to share it now. I have the promise of new friendships, new possibilities, and exploring who I have become with these scars newly forming. Most importantly, I know I am not doing any of it alone.

With that, I finished the last of what I had to do, I grabbed my laptop, my water, and some change, and I marched out the door before letting myself think about it. I was going to go to the park. No matter what doubts told me to stay inside and hide, I pushed them aside and got into my car. As I drove, I could already feel the voices growing weaker. I had to focus on the road after all, and with that, there wasn’t as much room for them.

I got to the park, left the car, and took a little time just to walk. I hadn’t set any plan for this. I couldn’t think about it. The minute I did, I would open the floodgates. So, I didn’t know where I could sit and write. But I knew I would find something. And as I walked by the towering oaks and cypress, passed palms swaying in gentle cool breezes, and listened to the songs of birds growing louder as the sounds of traffic grew softer, all that anxiety finally left.

I found that wooden bench on the boardwalk in a place called “The Cypress Dome,” and it’s well-named. There isn’t much that can be seen through the small army of brown, grey-white, and green popping up through the shallow water, standing guard while dragonflies dart across the surface and tiny fish scramble just below.

My mind cleared the instant I sat down and took everything around me. Another soft breeze meandered lazily through the mosses and leaves; the sparse wisps of clouds overhead lumbered by in silent surrender; a squirrel darted between a few branches, casting quick shadows.

And I finally began to write.

Thank you for reading! For more great stories, please continue to explore this fantastic publication: Hope*Healing*Humor. You are bound to be inspired!

One author I have recently found who could use a little love is Robin Faraway. Her stories and poems are so heartwarming! Take a look at her story “The Magical Spoon”. Enjoy!