"I was sick of letting the world run me so I decided to run the world."
~~~
Isabelle Cane was taken from her family at 6 months old, leaving behind 7 older brothers and a twin sister. In the 12 years she's been away, Izzy has faced hardships no chi...
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Stability is relative. Just like happiness or Success it is a carefully balanced scale of perspective, different for each person who seeks it. Stability it's something we all strive for, and something most spend their entire life clinging to.
It comes and goes like wind in a sail, either propelling you forward or pummeling you back. Like the earth spinning on its axis just shy of too far left, a person's stability often feels like it will fall apart at any given second. Stability is fragile. And mine is broken. Stability in every aspect of my life has always been fleeting. Unreachable. Unattainable. Like a handful of water, I've never been able to hold onto it.
In myself, and in my life, I've always craved the idea of stability and all the things that come with it. But stability is not something most of us get to choose. Me least of all. And though I wish for it and pray for it, I doubt I will ever be fortunate enough to hold it in my hands. Instability is everywhere in this world. In an emotional sense, as well as a physical one.
The motion of the plane was starting to make me feel sick. With each dip and bump in the air, my stomach rolled with anxiety and discomfort, making me wish I'd taken Tyler up on his offer to drive all the way to Georgia instead of flying.
Flying was faster, and I had assumed it would be easier, which had seemed like the logical choice when I made this decision a week ago, but now, I would give almost anything to feel my feet on the ground once again. I'd never been afraid of flying, but the instability of the flight itself mixed with my already overwhelming fear and anxiety was proving to be an unfortunate combination. My fingers were digging into the armrest with so much force that if I opened my eyes, I was sure I'd see indents in the leather of the seat. I was grateful that Logan and Tyler had both been so gracious, and allowed me to over take almost all of the shared space on either side of me.
Though Logan had offered to give me the window seat too many times to count, I'd insisted I'd be fine in the middle seat, and now I didn't regret that decision, seeing as I was too worked up to even open my eyes, let alone appreciate the view.
We'd been on the plane for two and half of the three hour flight, and I had yet to be able to relax for even a second since we took off. But to be fair, I hadn't been able to relax for a lot longer than that, since this vacation started. We'd left the cabin in Vermont early this morning, before any of my siblings-with the exception of Nolan who drove us to the airport-even woke up. I hadn't slept a wink last night.
After an exhausting few days of what felt like endless celebrations, with my birthday and Christmas all tied into two short days, I'd thought I'd be able to crash as soon as my head hit the pillow last night. But after a few hours of tossing and turning, too anxious and worried for our impending trip to Georgia, I'd realized that was not the case. I had been wide awake when Logan came to get me at quarter past six, and by the look on his face when he saw me, he could see it too.
The plane lurched downwards one more time. My body seized up in discomfort, but I didn't make a sound. Or I thought I didn't make a sound. I'd somehow convinced Tyler I could manage the flight without my hearing aids, so truly, I couldn't be sure of how long or quiet I really was. Gentle fingers wrapped around my wrist and detached my nails from the leather.
