Anxiety – Mandy Davis

You’ve probably heard the song “Pompeii” by Bastille. It was apparently a global hit back in 2013. But for whatever reason, it didn’t make it onto my radar until a couple of weeks ago. The first time I heard it, I thought, wow, what a great song. So upbeat. So catchy. Then, a couple of nights ago it came on, and my husband Tony, who likes learning everything about everything, asked if I knew what this song was written about. A breakup, obviously. Or depression. Something like that.

But actually, as Tony explained, it was written as a conversation between two people who were buried in the Pompeii volcano eruption.

And the walls kept tumbling down 
In the city that we love. 
Gray clouds roll over the hills 
Bringing darkness from above... 
How am I gonna be an optimist about this? 
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

Here they are, their entire world being buried under layer after layer of molten rock, and they’re trying to figure out how to find the good in the situation–as if finding this good could somehow fix the unfixable.

Continue reading “Being an Optimist”

I hiked alone today. Not alone alone. There were the people who threw a stick in the river and the dog who jumped in after it. The woven-poncho wearing twenty-somethings who were disappointed they couldn’t actually enter the old abandoned mine. The grandma, the granddaughter, and the little girl’s young mother who never stopped talking. The girls carrying fluorescent hula hoops. The couple in galoshes. The man with the country music blaring from his backpack. I wasn’t exactly alone.

But I was.

Today was the second day of my solo retreat at Turkey Run State Park, a retreat I’d planned in an attempt to get a bunch of writing done on my novel, and to, you know, fix my life and stuff. I’m not exactly sure what wisdom or clarity I expected to gain in a day and a half, but whatever it was, I wasn’t getting it. I didn’t feel any better at all. In fact, I felt the same. Or maybe even worse. And if I wasn’t feeling better here, if getting away from regular life wasn’t fixing my problems, then what was the point in staying? I should probably just pack my stuff and leave early, like first thing tomorrow morning.

Continue reading “The One Who Retreated”