I did not realize I had stumbled upon that crucial point in this little plan of mine... three weeks plus one day ago, I decided to embark on this journey. I told my husband and my self that I would give exercise three weeks (starting Monday, June 18) to lift the cloud of depression that was hanging over my head; and, if I wasn't better in three weeks, I would go to a doctor and get myself on some Prozac. There's nothing wrong with Prozac or any other drug that improves or even saves one's life; but, if I could get better without the use of pharmaceuticals, I was certainly in favor of that.
Now, last week didn't involve running, but I did move an awful lot of heavy furniture and boxes last Tuesday and Wednesday. Also, Saturday and Sunday, I about killed myself sanding a bed down the bare wood. It's Monday now, and it still hurts to put my hands on my hips... so I'm thinking I can chalk that up to a workout. Tomorrow, I'm going to get back into the swing of the running thing. For many reasons, I now know it is worth the investment of time and effort. For instance, I continued toward my time of wrath with very little actual wrath... a little grouchy on the day it began but mostly I've been pretty pleasant. Also, while it may sound like a small thing, my nails look fantastic; see, I used to let out all my nervous energy on my cuticles and nails. I'm not proud of that and know it's a nasty habit, but ya know I'm here to be real. I didn't even notice I had stopped that until my mom mentioned how good my nails looked, and it occurred to me that I had been leaving them alone because all that crazy energy I had was being exerted productively.
So, I'm thinking I can call my efforts thus far a success. I no longer feel on the precipice of some cliff of grief and doom. I still have my sad moments, especially when I think of the baby I lost and the fact that that may have been my last chance at another child; but it's the kind of grief that is healthy -- the kind that comes and then goes instead of lingering about like a fog. I have to live for the life I have... not the one I imagine I want. God knows, if I had what I imagined I wanted while in the depths of depression, my life would be one big mess.
I hadn't realized the date I had set for determining whether or not my efforts were a success coincided with my birthday. That may be mere coincidence, but it is rather a cool one. I am 34 today, one of millions on the planet who came into existence this day in July. Young and old, we are all officially 365 days older than we were 365 days ago. One more trip around the sun, and probably more of us than not feel we haven't quite accomplished what we've been put here to do -- even if we haven't yet been able to put our finger on what that is. We were all born with this exceedingly precious gift... life itself... and now what to do with it? I still grapple with this, yet I realize that I am closer to the answer when I am doing something instead of pondering what I should do.
Whilst busy sweating over the bed I was attempting to refinish (alas, I will have to paint the thing), I let my stream of conscious flow as it would. My major epiphany was that there are some people that I haven't really forgiven and that I have no interest in forgiving. Now, I guess in the process I might have actually done some forgiving, which is strange but true. Basically, I came to the conclusion that the people who have hurt me and my loved ones suck as human beings, and there is no changing that fact... they suck and will continue to do so... so there is no point in me worrying about them anymore. I guess I exorcised a lot of the demons of my past, just letting the thoughts come and go as they pleased. I certainly feel lighter now. Perhaps the difference between this and all the other times this stuff has come to mind is I am typically either interrupted by something external or myself. There is something to just letting yourself ponder something until you are done pondering it... sounds simple and obvious really, but I have had a bad habit in the past of either trying to divert my attention from or direct my attention to that which gnaws at me. I suppose this is what meditation really is... just giving your mind the opportunity to do what it needs to do.
So, 33 was a big year with much to do and many precious gifts hiding around corners. I am so interested to find what 34 holds in store. Whatever may come, my heart is now blessedly open to receive.
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