The blond guy was quiet, serious, intensely alone even in a room full of us. He made no overtures and received none. He sat in the back of the room and watched us all, but somehow our eyes never met. I watched him closely and saw his face contort when others shared their pain and anguish. He would don his glasses to hide his eyes when his emotions overflowed into tears.

It was his emotions that kept me from approaching him. They were a force in and of themselves,  and they kept me out as surely as any brick wall. And his ponytail,  in a room full of men with short-cropped hair or shaved heads, his ponytail stood out.
He was different.

Click to continue reading “The Heavy Load”

Three routes around obsession:

  • The path my Higher Power shows me, when asked
  • The path my friends show me, when asked
  • The path that leads back to safer mental ground