Will I Shed or Carry Weight? That is the Question.

I’m not sure why, but writing my thoughts and feelings down here has been a struggle. My goal is to bring something to this space once a week. I am writing behind the scenes, in the morning and before bed. The adjustment to do this was so simple, I wish I had thought of it sooner.

All I had to do was ask my husband to set the tea he makes me every morning beside my bed instead of leaving it downstairs where my laptop lives. So simple! Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

I had so many lucid dreams over the weekend. I wrote down what I remembered when I first woke up. My therapist has a lot of training in dream work. I look forward to sharing them with her, because my daughter was in every one.

Day after day, there’s still no communication. No news. No new insight. Nothing but the attempt to hang onto a dream that is like trying to grasp a cloud. If grief needs to be witnessed, I want to say again. It’s been three years. Three years. One-sixth of her life that I have had very, very little contact with her. And we had a few rocky years before that. I continue to stand at the fork in the road unable to choose. Do I live like she’s not coming back or like it could be any day? If there is a third road, I haven’t found it yet.

All that to say, I want to share a few snapshots of what else is happening. My whole life isn’t waiting, wandering, wondering. I will share here, however, that the body weight is coming back. I know for me, it’s connected to a feeling of futility that I carry. I’m working on it. But to long for something that might not come…there’s a heaviness there. And it’s translating back to heaviness in my body. So much else is going well…finally…that it doesn’t make a lot of sense. For forty years, bingeing was not an issue. I wish my will would out win my heart, but it just doesn’t. I know that change for me happens when my heart is touched with freedom and hope. It just hasn’t happened yet with my daughter. God, the 40s were rough. There are glimmers that the 50s will be better. We’ll see. I hope I don’t have to drag around 30 and counting extra pounds through it, though.

I want to take time here to write in black-n-white what might be turning the corner.

1. I am thankful for the opportunity to run a bookstore. I am good at it. It gives me street cred. I learned a lot. I got to be around books, talk about books, discover books and readers. But I am ready to let it go. And I can. The end of my lease is in sight. I am liquidating. I’ve only sold a quarter of the books I need to. The energy in the store has changed the feelings I carry so much. That’s another way I’ve had to carry weight…a business that wasn’t thriving. But one day soon I will close the door with satisfaction that I gave it my all.

2. Some weight I carry involves my home. There are some difficult memories there, for sure. But, I was able to do three things to change the energy up. I’ll tell you about one. I found a leather recliner in a color and style I liked at a consignment store. It’s a long story, but my husband and I spent a couple of years not sitting in the same room in the evenings. Now we are with this one small shift. Thankful.

3. My husband has the travel bug. He has announced we ARE going to Scotland and Ireland in 2020. I have not been out of the country and I want to go there more than anywhere in the world. I hear you, egalitarians. He had to announce it because, bottom line, money dynamics are a thing in my marriage when he makes all of it. Him making a definitive statement like this is a big deal. It might take us a year to get there. But he says we’re going and I get to live with this hope.

It takes a lot of work for a human to survive. The more money we have, the less we’re weighed down by our focus on survival. I live a comfortable middle class life. It’s just part of life to feed ourselves, move our bodies, and clean our homes. But, I wonder. If I had more money would taking care of what I need to survive feel easier? I know this is true, for example, for my foster son who lives on the streets. But for me, I wonder if I need to just be satisfied with what I have. Yet, if I could go to conferences I want to, or make bigger memories with my adult sons, would I be happier? I think I would. Dragging weight, physically and emotionally, through life is so much work. It just doesn’t leave a lot of energy to conquer bigger mountains. Being human carries great potential for wonderful rewards. Thankfully, I feel like I’ve moved a few inches toward thriving. But there’s so much more I want.

Where are you falling on the spectrum of thriving to surviving? I would love to know and share the celebration or weight of it with you. Feel free to comment here or through my contact page (link above). Also, are you following me on Instagram? I’m committed to sharing snapshots in Stories, if you want some daily tidbits.

Happy eating and moving, today, Friends. Wish me luck? Freedom? Hope?