That I haven’t posted for several months has less to do with over-scheduled and more to do with loss of heart. I got into a funk state, thinking, “oh no, the year is almost over, and I still haven’t figured out this life-post-children thing.”
It didn’t matter that my spouse, who is pretty much the Pooh to my Eeyore, reminded me that transitioning from 25 years of one kind of work may take longer than just a few months. My brain was too busy blaming me for all the things I wasn’t doing to listen.
Relevant is the fact that when I look out to my flower garden, what I see are all the weeds I should have already pulled up. Or never allowed to appear in the first place.
My spouse tells me to LOOK at what I’m already growing.
(Which, in cosmic terms, I’m aware I’m not actually responsible for putting there in the first place.)
So, what have I accomplished these months in addition to my mental weedy-ness?
Read and finished, yes, finished, War and Peace, with the online reading group, House of LitnLife, which I moderate, as well as a whole bunch of other books whose titles are too low-brow to lay claim to.
Signed up for and mostly attended weekly ballroom dance classes with my husband, ending up with a dinner-and-dance with live band, which is more la-de-dah socializing than I’ve done for years. Maybe decades. Not counting weddings.
Finally found the right companion dog, who, after months of exploring shelters and online rescue groups, was waiting not twenty minutes from us at the Franklin County Animal Harbor.
Finished a couple of swim challenges at the Rec Center and the CASA “I am for the Child” Walk. Which I ended up winning in my age group (every year, this gets easier to do…)
Plodded and continued to plod through a fiction manuscript, which is much worse than having a senior thesis hanging over your head because there’s always that insidious inner voice pointing out that you really don’t need to do this, and wouldn’t life be a lot easier if you just shredded the whole thing and took up, well, gardening?
And–transitioned back to mother-with-‘child’-at home when our eldest moved in for a few months while he waits for his wife to finish her teaching year down in Texas and join him in Huntsville, where he’s started a new job.
Who is your Pooh? Who helps you clear out your mental weeds?