Days 57-63. Yikes–a 7-day writing gap. Not good. But the past 7 days have not been particularly good either. Here’s a truth about why I haven’t written: When things are hard I just get really quiet. I work things out with words and there haven’t been any words of resolution here so I didn’t write.
The whole idea is to practice contentment with life as a woman on my own, new to empty-nesting, and finding out what makes me whole and happy in this new phase of life. And I want to do it with positive forward motion and without whining. The past 7 days have not been a sparkling success.
I spent the weekend like a shadow in my own house–sleeping far too much, feeling the silence wall me in rather than relaxing in the quiet and doing things around the house, running errands and working on something creative. I had one moment of connection to the things I love to feel–on the way to get tags for the car, a bushy red fox crossed the road in front of me, running to the right. Moments later, a coyote crossed going in the opposite direction (insert personal superstitions here: I could have gone happily without seeing the coyote). Then I pulled off and spent some time with a herd of about 80 elk. Maybe it sounds foolish to say that elk calm me but they do. I have a repetitive dream that visits me sometimes. I am standing in a flat, low-flowing creek bed brushing/grooming an elk and as I do, the dust from his coat becomes tiny butterflies that fly off. I’ve got no idea what it means but it feels calming.
When I started to work on some things here, I didn’t get much done because I decided to be cranky and whiny. It came down to two things–1) I am not happy with the details of aging, 2) the impact of my son spending more time here is not what I hoped it might be.
I am pleased to say that I’m not afraid of death. My family tends to be long-lived and I’ve been to death–that is been present when both of my parents died and once bled nearly to death myself. This is not the issue. Being very alive and wanting the energy to accomplish much without assistance is the issue. I used to be able to lift up the end of a sofa, balance it on my hip and vacuum under it. I packed 90% of our belongings into a moving van on my own when we moved to Colorado. I survived ovarian cancer. I used to leap tall buildings…well, maybe not that but I was energized. Now I work 10 hours in an office, come home and feel lucky if I do a load of laundry. I want to forget all of the knowledge I have about making choices, creating my own destiny, and envisioning my own success and instead scuff my shoe in the dirt and whine about life not being fair. Thoughts that come to mind are: Wine not whine. Do what you can do every day and suck it up. Figure out how to do things differently. Figure.It.Out.
Then there’s the whole thing with my son. He has been around more and kind of moved back in. I love his company, the life questions he trusts me to answer, and the laughter he brings along. But in these months on my own, I have enjoyed the sink empty of dishes, shopping for one, and the journey of clearing out things. And just as I feel as if I’m getting into the groove of all this, it’s all rewinding. It sounds selfish and bad parent-like to say that I’m not happy about it. The truth is I’ve come to like elements of just being responsible for only myself. Thoughts that come to mind are: Wine-ing or whining is not an answer. Do what you can do for yourself every day and create some boundaries. Figure out how to do this differently. Suck it up when things don’t go as planned. Figure.It.Out.