Sea Sponges

I have been endowed with the abhorred necessity to over-think life. When combined with an abnormal amount of sensitivity and sponge-like receptivity, I often find myself overstimulated, confused, and frustrated. Life can be pretty cool. Like the beach. There are all sorts of people at the beach. Some of them really know how to soak up the sun and relax while snacking on ice cream cones. Some of them swim fearlessly out in the deep making friends with sharks and dolphins alike. Some build sandcastles or play volleyball. Some just show-off. Then there are those toddlers who waddle precariously to the water's edge until a wave knocks them over. They cry, gargling salty sea water, rub sand off of their behinds, and then get right back up....only to face another freaking wave. At some point, I have been all of the above. Yet for some reason, the moments when the waves knock me over are the ones I seem most to remember. I mean, I've had my fair share of ice cream, but somehow it's the salt taste that remains behind. Of course, you can't settle for that. Though it's possible to allow the bitterness to remain in your mouth, even your body has the natural reaction to swallow it back. I could let myself go and enter into a downward spiral where nothing matters and everyone can go screw themselves. I've been there before, but it is nothing more than a frightened attack on my very necessity as a human being to care. I realize that much of adult life is (or should be) a return to vulnerability and innocence. As a toddler, this was simple. Our trust was not yet tarnished and so walking to the ocean's edge was easy. It's after your trust has been damaged that the choice to be open and free seems risky. It requires strength. Where before it was wide-eyed and innocent curiosity, it is now the willful decision to stand bravely facing the water in full knowledge that it may knock you over. It is accepting my sponge-like tendency to absorb life. If I remove this inborn characteristic, I may be freeing myself from the risk of danger but I am also removing any chance for wonder. Yes, a stranger's frown may leave me upset for hours, but I love the way someone's genuine smile makes me feel lighter than air. So, the waves are inevitable, right? Then I intend to face them and feel them fully. Perhaps time will never lessen the sting of impact, but I hope to discover something cleansing in that.