This is Major Tom to Ground Control

“This is Major Tom to ground control:

I’m stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way,
And the stars look very different today.”

I recently told someone that I felt as if I needed a commercial break from life. And it’s a ridiculous thing to even think or say because it’s simply not possible.

We never have the opportunity to cut to a mental, physical, emotional, or financial commercial break in the middle of a tense moment.

We don’t get that pause to grab a snack, go to the bathroom, or find the perfect blanket we can wrap around us for comfort when the show resumes.

When these feelings rise up (which, sadly for me, they often do), I always feel a lot of shame around them.

Shame for wanting a break. Shame for wanting a pause to gather my thoughts. Shame for knowing that someone else somewhere else has it so much worse than me in this particular moment. Shame for recognizing my own limits. Shame for even wishing that I could have the opportunity to refill my emotional stores because the world is constantly telling us it’s all gas, no breaks, and if you can’t do that with a smile on your face, then there’s something wrong with you.

The funniest part is that quite often, this desire for a break comes up not in moments of crisis but in moments of peace when my head is finally above water and I just want to be left alone for a moment to look at the horizon, to feel my limbs move through whatever is holding me up, and to figure out where I end and the rest of everything begins.

Does it make sense? Who knows.

Sometimes, I think sharing our words and experiences on social media, books, podcasts, or videos is a balm for the rest of the world to look away from themselves for a moment, point a finger at someone else, and say, “What’s wrong with you?”

Clearly, I’m doing my part.

I have no idea what’s wrong with me, you, or that other guy over there.

I’m not disturbed by my disturbances, and at my core, I actually really love some things about me that I’m sure everyone else wants me to “work on.” I’m also pretty sure there is enough space in the expansive universe for all parts of me, even the parts I don’t particularly love.

And on that note, the stars look very different today.

“Though I’m past 1000,000 miles, I’m feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell my wife I love her very much (she knows).”