Cracks in the Sidewalk

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I used to think I was a ‘Recovery Blogger’.

A person who rambled on about not drinking.

About addictions.

But then I realized, that’s not at all what it’s about, or what I know.

Like, not even close.

I realized that beneath that…there’s something more.

Something that connects us all (sadly).

Some innate fault in our common human nature (or in reality, the world we live in) – and its that common thread that ties us all together, despite our differences, our borders, our habits, our incomes, our health or sickness or childhoods or successes or our failures; despite our races, our skin tones, sexual preferences, careers – you get the idea.

We all struggle. No matter who we are.

I think my writing is more about our common struggles.

It’s more about being human.

It’s about trying to be alive.

Trying to stay alive.

To feel alive.

To find a place where you feel safe and like you belong; a place that gives you a real sense of purpose and connection, which helps to give purpose and meaning to our struggles, and a place that helps us all realize that there’s nothing weird or wrong with ourselves, because we all share this feeling.

Whether some people like to admit, or not.

It’s not about not drinking, or all the baggage of mistakes (that I am getting so much better at unpacking and never dragging along with me – but I did make a deal with them all, that I would share their stories one at a time, over time, in hopes that in their unpacking and release someone else somewhere might find a little piece that fits them just right, tries it on, and maybe finally feels seen.)

And that trying to feel alive and trying to be alive looks very, very different to each of us.

After all, how many of us wear the same prescription of eyeglasses? How many of us are so alike that a shared, new perspective can put it all into perspective? How rare is it that you can borrow someone’s else’s glasses and by sheer luck and chance, everything somehow comes into crystal clear focus?

The world doesn’t work like that (thankfully – because it would also be horribly boring).

It’s about being that little airborne seed, that breaks away and catches itself in the wind, tumbling along some crooked, broken sidewalk in some small dusty town, and by providence and luck (and fate) it happens to rain, just as it thinks it’s doomed forever as it falls into that dark and ugly crack in the sidewalk that has put more mothers than we could ever count into wheelchairs because of broken backs caused by angry, resentful (or oblivious) children, and turns into this miraculous little flower, or weed, or most importantly – happy little bit of life – thriving exactly where it shouldn’t.

That’s what it’s about.

What this is all about.

It’s about that flight to the crack in the sidewalk.

The waiting for the rain. The terror of facing the end straight in the eye; of that swift fall into exactly what you were trying to avoid. And, hopefully, the subsequent rain that washes it all away, somehow, and gives you a chance at being brought back to life again.

It’s about finding a place to grow.

A place where you feel you belong.

A place where you can be more than just a seed in the wind, and be a little piece of life surprising you where you’d expect there to be none.

So that is all for today – short and sweet.

Cracks in the sidewalk aren’t all there to trip us up.

Sometimes they’re there to offer us a place to rest, a place to regroup, a place to wait for the rain so we can grow into something we weren’t ever sure we’d become, giving purpose to our directionless and haphazard tossing about for so long, riding winds we had no control over.

And hopefully, in the end, we’re able to bring a little joy to others, in return.

And then – then you can finally grow.

Photo banner ©Ben Zank