Well, here I am again. Feeling defeated and discouraged and, well, really just a big "Oh Well did you really expect anything different in the long run?" But that is just the surface, underneath there is a part of me that 'knows' what to do and that this just means there is work to be done. Work I am too lazy to do? Work I feel shouldn't have to be done so it just makes me mad to think about what I should be doing? I mean really, why should it take so much work to just feel at peace? Because peace is not why we are here? Which brings me back to my childhood, and swinging on the front gate while I wonder why I have to be here again. Wondering why I can't just go back.
It's the same old question humanity has asked forever, why are we here? Except I knew in that moment of childhood clarity there was a somewhere I came from, someplace that was better, a place that I liked, and where I belonged. At a young age - 6? 7? 8? - I knew I didn't want to be here on earth and 'going through this again.' That feeling has followed me through life as I struggled to get through everyday things, and mostly doing a bad job of it.
I blamed myself for being lazy when I didn't live up to my own expectations, when I didn't have a career path to follow, when I didn't excel at the ordinary business of growing up.
While I try to believe I have forgiven myself for how my life has unfolded, mostly I know I failed and that is probably the underlying reason for why I am back here in a place of regret and sadness with tears streaming down my face as I type. Sitting in my Mother's dining room, surrounded by beautiful things, I am a fish out of water. Voluminous soft black sweater keeping me warm, laptop humming away, I am anomaly in this space dedicated to delicate glassware, orchids, and ceramic creatures. A sort of analogy for my whole life.
And I see that the pity party has begun so another great big sigh leaves my body and I hitch up my big girl panties to once again start over. Because I am not certain I have fulfilled any purpose yet in this life, and just noticing the glimmering of a chance that there may be something I need to do before I can go back pulls my mind out of the gutter and makes me want to keep trying; the fucking Pollyanna game is once again afoot and I must sit here and be grateful for what brings joy to my life.
Okay, so maybe I'm drawing a blank on that at the moment with the huge exception of my grandkids. Every hug, every conversation, reminds me that love is everything, and that everything I have been has brought me to this place with them. Maybe that is why depression is trying to sneak in - because I am planning to leave them and move South in September to be here full time for a while with Mom. It might be for the rest of her life, or maybe just a few months to spend a holiday season with her; she is 90 and I do feel we are running out of time. Time to connect, to get to know each other. But I don't anticipate that happening as we are both so set in our ways. I am hoping time together will ease us into some semblance of acceptance, but at the moment all I can see is work. AFGO indeed.
So what started this early morning rant down pity lane? As usual it is my weight. I have not been Bright more than a day at a time lately, and since I was here on a visit last month I have gained 9 pounds. Amazing what the body can do!
But at least stepping on the scale made it clear that it is time to clear the decks, start fresh, and take care of myself. This being typed while there is cream in my mug of tea so of course I have already failed as it is not a Bright morning. My bad for not stopping to pick up oat milk, and for planning to use cream in the scalloped potatoes at Easter dinner. so there it was waiting for me in the fridge this morning.
As previously stated, I know what to do, I'm just lazy. Or at least there is a very strong part of me that uses that as an excuse, and that is the part I need to get to know, and THERE IT IS AGAIN; why all the work? Maybe there is an even bigger rebel part that I still need to work on first. And that is my trailhead for the parts work; why does having to do the work piss me off so much? If we are spiritual beings living a human experience to feel/grow/enrich our souls then why is such a strong part of me so resistant?
Another great big sigh.
I haven't journaled in a while, because I was writing so much crap as evidenced by the above jumble. But I need to start again, it being part of the work I am so resistant to doing. And I guess I should start by being grateful. For this quiet morning to reflect, for the hot mug of tea, for the ability to work remotely so I can be here.
One of the things Mom and I need to work on is how we will manage our meals. I have been eating at 8, 11 and 4 for years now, while she eats closer to 10, 2, and whenever. But we can do that in September, for now I just need to navigate through the weekend. Forget that, I just need to plan a bright breakfast! I may have to run to the store a little earlier than anticipated this morning.
Funny how quickly I can go from 'why am I here' to grocery shopping, which I suppose is the magic of journaling.
I have a Bright Line Eating quote on a sticky, something I felt important as it lives just below the keypad of my laptop. "Choose what you want and pay for it; now in work or later in consequences." This morning I saw the consequences of breaking my lines and lying to myself about how often I was doing it. And here we are, back to the WORK. A full circle moment. But at least now I am calm.
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