Whoa! If it’s one thing I’ve learned from blogging…people love a whiff of misery. I’m expecting a tsunami of hits on this post. It’s human nature: people like to read about those who are worse off than they are so they can feel better about themselves. Or, we like to read about someone who has the same problem, so we feel we’re in the same boat.
Well, no misery here except, very simply: At this august moment in my life, I can look back and say: I have never been properly, truly loved by a man.
Hello my lovelies! It’s July! 2017 is half over. In six months we’ll be musing about how quickly the year went, wondering where it went and thinking about the new year.
Let’s take a moment. How have the first six months of 2017 been for you? How can we reap the best of the rest of the year? What do we need to change? Or is everything going swimmingly?
2017 has been like nothing I expected or wanted when it started out. It’s been
difficult a challenge.
One day last week I cried so much I had to drink tall glasses of water for the rest of the day to rehydrate myself. I cried for different things that both were and weren’t happening to me. I won’t bore you with my “stuff.” I’m sure you have your own.
I invoked Tony Robbins’ “90 second rule” — but I turned it into a four hour rule, because 90 seconds seemed a little too short for me (haha). The 90 second rule is to let yourself feel your pain, sorrow, suffering for 90 seconds.
Why do we love hospital shows so much when the reality is so not nice? That’s putting it mildly! For as long as I can remember there’s always been a medical show on the air — because doctors and hospitals bring on the drama. Unwanted drama.
I won’t dwell on boring medical blah blah, but here’s what’s happening. After five years of pain that I ignored because, who wants to pay attention to pain…I’ll be having a hip replacement this week. Not how I planned to spend the Easter hols.
Jealousy sounds so much nicer in French, doesn’t it? Romantic. Poetic.
In another twist, jalousie in English refers to a “blind or shutter made of angled slats.” Go figure.
As a femme d’un certain age, I’m mortified to admit that I’m prone to occasional whiffs of
jealousy envy. How embarrassing is that? It’s true that life is always like high school over and over again — same cliques, same emotions.
Something broke in me this week. It was palpable, and a surprise to me. I hadn’t been expecting it at all.
Of course it had to do with the results of the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election.
Yes something shifted. I let go, gave up, turned inward. I said, it’s not my world anymore. I feel out of touch.
Why didn’t you…? You shouldn’t … or You should…! Do you deserve…? How could you…? Why did you? How can you justify… Shouldn’t you be…?
This is about silencing those mischievous, terrible voices in my head that constantly criticize and question me.
When I was young, I didn’t think anything about my body. I lived in it.
Now, I’m aware of it all the time.
I have a hip issue, a shoulder situation and a knee thing. (I don’t call them problems.) I have turned into the sometimes limping and stiff vision of my elders. Instead of cursing myself and being angry, I embrace my body and all its imperfections. I love my body. My body has brought me here. My body has given me great pleasure. My body has birthed two children. My body has played thousands of hours of tennis. It has walked everywhere, run on beaches, hiked on mountains, skied and skated. It has sailed, walked cities, strolled through museums and sat in cathedrals and concerts all around the world.
Lately, fear has crept into my life. I can’t pinpoint exactly when, why, where or how. I never used to be a fearful person.
When I was younger, I’d make a plan and go for it. Move to New York and go to grad school? Yes! Quit my job and start a business? Yes! Move to a foreign country to write a novel? Yes! Marry a foreigner? Be the founder of the Merida English Library? Yes and yes!
It’s the most
wonderful delicate time of the year
Only December 1 and the yearning has begun.