Tuesday, March 29, 2016

I'm the White Rabbit

My anxiety is triggered by stress, which is triggered by feeling a time crunch, which is pretty much how I feel all the time. Every morning I watch my daughter grow a little more into a woman. Every time I try to squeeze in a chore before I have to run for the 8:37 train. Every time I buy a garment thinking I'll have to hurry up and lose a little weight before I wear it. Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping.



And as my dear coach would say, what would I be without those thoughts? I'd be living in the moment, fully aware; keenly aware of how dissatisfied I am living from train to train. The solution could be as simple as resigning from this job. I'm more than ready to do that. I rehearsed the entire meeting in a dream the other day. I already know what to say, I'm just waiting for the right day. It will be here in a matter of weeks. It doesn't have to be wrapped in any other reason except the main one, that I no longer feel like I'm a good fit. I finally have options. For years I had to follow the course, just to survive. Now I have some money saved, a home, a car. A plan. Friends. Options. Boulder is waiting with open arms. My baby girl is practically a small adult with friends and goals of her own. We just have to pack our bags and go. Baby steps, in order to reach the land of giant steps.

The first steps are already happening. I need to make some conscious decisions now. Get the bills paid, set up the realtor, pack some boxes, sell some things, write some letters, call the movers, get the cat tranquilizers, refill my human tranquilizers, do yoga every day, pray for the realization of my dream...to live a peaceful life in harmony with nature. I can do this.

By the end of June I will be on my way to my new mountain home, spreading my unique energy and cultivating a new life. I will have everyone's blessing, even if unspoken. Ann pointed out how I'm still so stuck on the idea that I'll disappoint those around me. She said "how far does it go with you?" As in, how much do you allow yourself to believe that negative story? I told her "you don't wanna know." 

Today I made coffee. In the past I have relished giving someone else that job. I convinced myself at some point that it tastes better when someone else makes it. That's still true. But I didn't see anyone else who was willing to do that for me today. I waited for the water to boil, and I glanced at the Easter basket on the counter. I remembered Zoe saying, "it's too bad the Easter bunny didn't come to this house too." I'm not trying too hard to keep the myth alive. She saw the Easter baskets in our luggage when we left a week before Easter. She knew I was the one who put out the candy. But she lets herself believe it because-what a joyful thought that this sweet creature magnanimously shows up every year with treats just for her. I thought about what I'd tell her if she put me on the spot and asked if the Easter bunny really exists. I would've said that it's a story we tell little kids to see the joy it brings them. When we're older we accept a new role, as the giver of joy. We get our own special kind of joy out of it then. We just have to work a little harder for it, because we can!

I thought of how I'd give myself the same advice about the transition I'm making in my life. I came back to my home town after the course of my life changed 6 years ago. I knew it was temporary. I had to reset, rebuild myself, revisit my ghosts, make peace with all of it. The ghosts are all disappearing, one by one. Even the divorce, once the biggest shame and disappointment of my life, is small in comparison to the things I've achieved since then. All thanks to my decision to revisit my childhood home. I did what I had to do. Now I'm on the black diamond run of my life. I rose up to this point because I earned it, and the reward is in the ride. Falls and all, I'm in this for the sheer thrill. I wasn't meant to sit still at the bottom of the mountain, I was given this powerful body for a reason, to make and do, talk, see, wish, push and pull. There's another mountain beyond this one, and another lake, and another friend, and another sensation, and another love. I'm in motion, stopping is not an option.


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