Yesterday was a good day. I had lunch with my co-workers, spent an hour with my therapist, ran important errands and fixed a kick ass, healthy dinner. Not only did I not buy any wine at the grocery store, I didn't even want any last night. A and I watched more Dexter and I went to bed feeling relatively happy and healthy.
Since when did my life and how I felt I was able to manage it become a "one day at a time" thing? It boggles the mind.
I used to dream. I used to look forward to things. An idea would grab hold of me, wrap its arms around me and woo me. I'd spend most of my waking time thinking about it and wanting to live in its glow. These things weren't always exotic, although sometimes they were.
In the beginning, it was the dream of becoming a mom and all that that entailed. I researched pregnancy and natural childbirth as if I were the first female to ever experience such miraculous events. It consumed me for years and I happily and willingly rode the wave of maternal longings. My life WAS my kids and it was lovely.
Once becoming a mother was a dream realized, I began tackling hobbies. I dove into scrapbooking, which became a love, and then, to lose the post baby blubber, I took up running. Oh, how running changed my life. I set goals for myself and challenged myself to accomplish them. I ran half marathons and eventually a full marathon. I pushed myself and I succeeded.
As the kids got older, traveling with friends to see 'our band' was thrilling. I was fortunate enough to go to places I'd never been before. But the joy was in the details too. Things like choosing the wardrobe we'd pack, selecting the perfect 5 star hotel, going to the concert, the laughs. It was all such amazing fun. Despite the fact that I don't do that as often now and am not sure that I will be able or interested in doing it the future, the friendships I made through that time in my life are incredible and lasting. I love those women.
But then, something happened. I started turning away from my life, myself. Was I becoming more or less the person I was meant to be? Was I being true? Authentic?
Seemingly, over a matter of weeks, all the things that once brought me such joy, stopped having an impact on my ability to find happiness, to find sunshine in my days. I was restless and anxious and unsettled.
Still, nothing really sparks me. Hard as I try. Rather than feasting on the bread of life, I feel like I'm picking crumbs out of the tablecloth.
So, a good day, is a happy day. I am thankful for it and will stop and soak in the moments of peace and gratitude. I will cherish any quiet in my mind that is strong enough to silence the unsettled, moody stranger who so frequently resides there of late.
One good day. Another one in the making. This is what it must be like, one day at a time.
In 2010, I turned 40 and spent a great part of that year figuring out some serious stuff in my life. Newly 42, I'm still on the path of discovery but feel I've come quite far. This tiny space is my save haven, one of the only places I can come to work through my worries, fears, exaltations, and endeavors. Thank you to those who've helped me along the way and those of you who stop by to read my crazy thoughts. Enjoy!
I really enjoyed reading this entry. It was so inspiring reading a bit of your journey and your accomplishments. A full marathon? That is such an amazing accomplishment and I congratulate you for doing it.
ReplyDeleteWhat I connect to this post is like an artist having some sort of block in their inspiration. They did the things they do, they try to find inspiration elsewhere, but nothing seems to spark. Eventually, however, something comes around that has not happened before and they want to experience that new journey. It almost seems like you are in that 'writer's block,' but it doesn't mean that it will last forever.
Sometimes the newest and interesting things happen in the most oddest ways and may not happen for a while, but I do hope that something comes to spark that feeling once again. Who knows, right? It could be tomorrow. :)
Wishing you all the best.
Sometimes we get into rutts or funk sin our lives that can spans days, weeks and sometimes years. It is good you are working with a therapist - so am I.
ReplyDeleteOh, and scrapbooking is my outlet. Good to hear it mentioned here.
I had my art birth at 40. Didn't plan to. I had reached a point when both kids were busy at school, we had moved, I didn't want to do the same old same old and I went to school to start working on a social work degree. I took one painting class and WHAM! I finally figured out what I wanted to do when I grow up.
ReplyDeleteGlad you had a happy day :)
ps. you are a great writer.
Thanks guys!
ReplyDeleteI'm well into stringing TWO good days together.
I want an 'art birth'. I've always dreamed of being an artist, hence, I suppose, my love of writing.
Want you to know 3 things...
ReplyDelete1. I am reading almost daily.
2. I am so proud of you for putting it and yourself out there and trying.
3. I love you too ;)