Freedom in a Puddle

The gentle breeze of the lonely autumn morning ruffled my hair, like a mother’s gentle caress of her newborn’s cheek. But lost in my thoughts, I walked on. Through the forest, over the rocks, around the streams. I kept going. What my destination was, I didn’t know. But I knew that if I ever stopped, I would have to confront the Thoughts. They haunted me, day and night, a parasite, sucking my soul and life out of me. And the worst part? I couldn’t ignore them. The Thoughts weren’t wrong, they weren’t evil; they asked simple, one line questions: what was I made for? Who made me? What can I really be sure about, what do I have to hold on to in this ever-changing world? But sometimes, the shortest questions can be the most haunting. And so I kept walking. 

Every step I took, I imagined myself nearing a dead end, a shattering realization that all of my fears, my doubts– they had all been true. That the Thoughts had been right all along. I didn’t know what possibility I hated more– spending even a second more in this miserable hell of uncertainty and vagueness, or the crushing epiphany of reality. What would hurt more? The truth, or the absence of it? Reality, or the nightmare that prepared me for it? Would I rather learn that my existence was simply a coincidence, a background extra in life’s movie? Or would I rather stay ignorant, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts, voicing my deepest fears? Suddenly, I was jolted from my thoughts with the unpleasant sensation of wet, dripping socks. I would have groaned if I had any emotion left to express– I had stepped in a puddle. Shaking my foot out, I was ready to go back into my familiar cave of depression when it hit me – I had felt something, for the first time in so long. Such a small experience, just stepping in a puddle, had broken the Thoughts’ grip on me, if only for a moment. I had chosen to interrupt them, silencing them to focus on the external world. The sensation was, in a way… comforting. 

It reminded me that regardless what the Thoughts told me, I was here, today, alive and breathing. I was real, capable of making memories and having experiences. I didn’t know the answers to the Thoughts’ persistent questions, and maybe I never would. But I knew that regardless of what the answer really was, it never stopped me from experiencing that unpleasant sensation of wet socks. Regardless of the reality, living in the moment was a choice. And I was going to honor that choice. Stepping in that puddle may have ruined my shoes, but it set me free.