Sunday, June 23, 2013

A Concert for the Disconcerted


Dictionary.com describes it this way:

dis-con-cert-ed [dis-kuh n-sur-tid]
adjective

  1. disturbed, as in one's composure or self-possession; perturbed; ruffled: She was disconcerted by the sudden attack on her integrity.
  2. bewildered or confused, as by something unexpected: The class was disconcerted by the instructor's confusion.
I would describe it like this:  It's been a hell of a week.

Blogging is difficult when my head and my heart are occupied elsewhere. I sat here yesterday looking at a blank "compose" screen for a long time, giving up on it because my thoughts were too scattered to post even a simple Saturday Song Selection. 

This morning I awoke with more clarity, able to uncork my feelings and let them flow, understanding that I don't have to be strong every minute, that bending like a willow can keep someone from breaking. Also, in between writing the last sentence and this one, I've had phone calls from two of a few special people who are my rocks: I know I can always count on them. Furthermore, if I imagine myself standing in a circle with those people, I can look at them one by one and identify their rocks, too; they each have a supportive network of others to look out for them. That's how we roll when it's our turn to be rocks.

With that in mind, I'm giving myself permission to post a Saturday Song on Sunday this week, because I now know exactly the right song to fit the situation (even if you don't like country music). If you ever find yourself feeling as though someone has tossed a nestful of angry hornets into your lap and you don't know where to swat first, remember that the people who are your rocks want you to know this:


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The song is "I Won't Let Go," by Rascal Flatts.
Thanks to DieHardCreations for posting the song and its lyrics on YouTube.

6 comments:

  1. Dear Linda, I'm so sorry you are struggling. Please know you're in my thoughts and that I'm always here if you need an ear or a shoulder. Take care of yourself, my friend.

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    1. Thank you, Annette. I knew that about you already, and it means a lot. Yes, I'm struggling, but please don't be concerned. Several small "hornets" flew at me at once, but the big mean ones--the ones that worry me most--are buzzing around the face of someone I love. This morning I had time to take a breath and reflect on the situation, and the lack of clear-cut solutions made me feel woefully inadequate. I felt more like a pebble than like anybody's rock. But ... that was this morning. Right now, at bedtime, I'm feeling very much like a rock again. Thanks for caring.

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  2. I hope all is well with you. It's been a helluva week here too!

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