Monday, December 31, 2012

Fingers crossed

2012. I'm so lucky. I had loads of time with my girls, loads of good food, loads of junk food, loads of cat snuggles, loads of good experiences with my students. 
I'm so lucky.
2013. I'm hopeful. I'm anxious. I'm grateful already for whatever comes
January holds a rather large mountain to climb, but I'll be positive enough, strong enough, and resilient enough for all of us. We'll climb together. We love each other. That's what will help us get to the other side, where we'll slide down, screaming, crying, and laughing all the way.
I'm so lucky. We've got each other.

photo credit

It's Okay

I'm trying so hard to breathe. Since the end of November, I've noticed that I have to concentrate specifically on taking in a full breath. 
It's tricky, this whole "tension" thing. You go about your daily routine, seemingly unscathed by circumstances out of your control. But then you notice that you're not fully breathing, not fully focusing, not fully participating.
I've got to do a better job of staying alert for the creeping signs of tension. I've got to let go of what I'm holding inside. If I crumble for a little while, the world will go on spinning. My issues won't go away, but they also won't eat me alive as long as I breathe. In. Out. Repeat.

Monday, December 10, 2012

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

'Tis the season. The season of waiting. The season of anticipation. Every day feels like an intake of breath. 
When does the release happen? Is it when the shopping is done? When the gifts are wrapped and tree decorated? When family gathers to celebrate? Or does it happen the day after, vacuuming the wrapping paper shreds, washing the dirtied dishes, putting the furniture back in place? 
I am a person who feels the post-holiday crash pretty deeply. In the evenings between Christmas day and New Year's Eve, I lean toward wallowing in sappy movies, sappy music, sitting in darkness lit only by tree lights. I take my year apart mentally, analyzing every misstep, listing the changes I will make to move forward. It's not so much a release as a letdown. It's as if there's nothing to look forward to, only things to regret. And that's bullshit. 
I'm learning (ssss--lll--ooo--www--lll--yyy) to keep myself in anticipation. Because there's ALWAYS something coming. I don't mean in the "Oh-I've-got-a-thousand-things-to-get-done!" way. I mean in the "What's-around-this-corner?" way. I'm learning to look forward with curiosity, with eagerness, with openness, instead of with dread, with anxiety, with a feeling of impending doom. 
I am not good with change. I worry. I fret. I dread. I know I won't completely be free of those weights, but I'm determined to look ahead with excitement. I am not patient, but I'm determined to find the joy in the waiting. 
I will inhale and open my eyes.

 


Clip art: http://www.stpaulschestnuthill.org/wp-content/uploads/Advent-Wreath-011.jpg