I was only a teenager for three years – in the cultural sense of the word – yet I managed to pack some pretty interesting stories and events into that shortened time frame.
I find that memories of these events, people, and places often resurface to help me understand issues I’m dealing with now. Who says your past can’t be helpful today? 

Like the time in my early teens when my photographer boyfriend and I scaled the fence at the limestone quarry in my hometown. We checked for guards from several vantage points and discussed the best locations for the shots we wanted to take. When it was safe, he went over the chain-link fence first; I passed the SLRs to him, then dutifully followed.

We hurried across the open expanse of crushed lime rock and dust that lay between between the fence and the safe cover of distant machinery and sheds. Scanning for  any movement other than our own.

The previous day’s rain had softened the ground, giving it a spongy feel. Occasionally we slipped, but weren’t too concerned – until I landed ankle deep in mud, then planted my other foot firmly onto the ground to save myself.
Instead of a sure footing, I sank knee-deep in thick limestone mud!

The sunctioning glutinous mud held me fast; it seemed the more I struggled the more it held. I called out to my boyfriend in a strange whisper/shout, as one does when trespassing. At first he laughed, then our predicament dawned on him.

I struggled to free my leg amid his version of ‘helping me’ while avoiding the mud himself. His help only frustrated me, pushed me off balance and made everything worse. I panicked, sure I’d end up sitting in the mud, my whole body slowly being sucked into a white oblivion.

I strained with all my might- but nothing.
What are we going to do now? (other than get caught, that is.)
The thought of the guards arriving in a convoy of  SUVs topped with flashing orange lights gave me the extra boost I needed and shllooop! out it came.

You know when a moment in your life comes back to you as a snapshot?
My snapshot was me standing there in that open expanse, my leg bent in the air, caked in cream mud – without my shoe!
The sloppy hole where my leg had been was already folding in on itself. My shoe was down in there somewhere, and I wasn’t about to stick my arms in there to find it.

Fast forward quite a few years and I’m feeling out of sorts.

I’d been trying to describe how I felt in my morning writing mediatation. I wrote about feeling flat, stagnant, but it wasn’t until I wrote the word ‘stuck’ that I remembered the day at the quarry and thought about what I had to let go of, to become ‘unstuck’.

Some of you are aware I recently broke my leg, and nothing makes me feel more stuck than physical recovery. Invitations came and went as I told myself, “Next time.” and “When I’m feeling stronger.” Opportunities seem to parade by while I remain suctioned to the mud of recuperation.

My work in progress, Crown Of Fire, is in its final editing stage. During this phase there seems to be a lot of essential work being done, with nothing to show for it. While this wouldn’t classify as being ‘stuck’ it certainly has a nothing feel about it – like treading water.

I’m busy doing stuff – but I’m not getting anywhere!

Using the quarry analogy, I needed to accept I’m only feeling the sensation of being stuck.
* No one can pull me out of the mud, only I can find my way out – with or without shoes!
* Even the great ideas of others, although well-meaning, might actually put me off balance.
* That day in the quarry reminded me I’ve often got to let go of something before I can get loose.

What was I hanging on to that was keeping me stuck and frustrated? What was my metaphorical ‘shoe’?

It was my idea of how it should be; instead of how it was.

My idea of what my recovery should look like.
My idea of how quickly I should reach my editing targets, and my idea of how long I should wait for my editor.

My impatience with my slowly approaching goals was causing me to feel stuck, when I wasn’t really stuck at all.

There is nothing wrong with any of today’s situations, only the way I view them. I simply have to use the choices I have wisely.
I can choose to be upset about something I can’t change – and cause groundless stress and drama – or I can choose to stop demanding it be something it is not.

Pain surely arrives in our life when we decide something or someone should be what they are not.

So you see, right now I’m not stuck.
I’m resting and recovering.
I’m treading water.
I’m editing.
I’m sliding across the mud.
And I’m waiting.

And it’s perfectly okay.