The desire returned. Out of nowhere. I heard the voice in my head say: It’s quiet in the house now. Home alone. Coffee and a stunning view of the lake. It’s time to let the words come back…
Have I now landed? Have I begun to return to the human being I was before IT happened? Have I unraveled yet another protective layer that now allows me to breathe free? Does this mean I can begin to rebuild all that seemed to be lost by IT? Does the anger that I have held in tight for months have an avenue for escape?
Is needing much more sleep a sign from my body and mind that I have quite a bit of lost Zzzz’s to catch up on?
Is my newfound ability to move very slowly, to not rush, to not push myself so hard, a message from my brain suggesting it needs a bit of a rest during the daytime, too? Was part of the lesson that: it is possible to “accomplish” without a punishing schedule?
Was losing myself and turning away my family and friends to take care of IT, a reminder to never lose myself in that way again?
What happened to my yogi self? The balance I find so essential, when exactly did all that slip away? While I did exercise and practice yoga to cultivate a release, I found towards the end that that simply served as a way to squeeze out tension and a deep-seeded anger towards IT. The practice opened my heart less and less as time went on.
I shut down to the point where I lost the desire to write. The one channel, my paper and pen, that allows me to stay connected to my inner truth. My truth North. To me. The Wendy I know and love and the Wendy that my family and friends know and love.
But, I shriveled into an emotional state of drought. Nothing in. Nothing out. All of my energy was used to survive IT….
But then, I had the chance to step away from IT. And, the melting began to happen, very, very slowly. It began with…
- Sleeping through the night.
- Relaxing with my family.
- Talking about IT to help purge the experience from my mind.
- Being there for my husband and daughter in consistently meaningful ways.
- Being grounded in yoga, to start opening my heart.
- Reaching out to friends.
- Reconnecting with my sister.
- Exercising at more convenient times.
- Tapping into my creative self by cooking and experimenting with new recipes.
But, I still could not write. I thought about writing. I pledged to make time to write. But, writing was low on my “to do” list. Before IT happened, I wrote fairly often, whenever the voice in my head suggested the idea.
It has been about a year of dwindling writing. Less cues to pick up pen and paper, or charge up my laptop to write. To write for PLEASURE.
And, there you have it. I denied myself pleasure while IT happened. You see, when I began to write today, I did not know that…that I had essentially given up pleasurable things. And, writing is one of my most cherished, most personal of the pleasurable things in my life. But, when the words came back, I got that answer.
Writing often guides me to the answers I seek–whether I am looking for answers or not.
I am also a big believer in lessons. And this lesson, while it may sound cliche, served to remind me that when I one by one start losing the things in my life that are stabilizers, that generate contentment, that connect me with the sublime, it is time to re-evaluate. To reconsider. To change my behavior or remove myself from the situation that may be causing the shutting down of self.
I did think at the beginning of this entry, that I would reveal what IT specifically was. But that IT seems irrelevant now. The IT is life. IT happens. Shit happens. And, it’s what you do with IT, how you define IT, how you react to IT, if you blame yourself for IT or if you can step back and just observe…life at a crossroads.
Will I ever cross paths with IT again? Most definitely. Will I shrivel so far away from myself that the desire to write will slip away and feel forever lost?