I don’t know why it’s always a surprise to me that whenever I go away on vacation I tend to come home and get sick.
Maybe it’ part of the re-entry process; lay me low for a few days, time to think about where I was, what’s next, take care of business, whatever. It’s a very good plan, but I’d rather be healthy doing it. It’s hard to think or get organized while blowing your nose every 5 seconds and dealing with anti-biotic induced migraines.
I would happily have that re-entry sinus infection though, if it means I got to go away, go somewhere ELSE.
My trip was wonderful. So wonderful. The perfect mixture of friends and activities and lounging and dreaming and corpereal and spiritual insights. I am so grateful for the opportunity to go, the time off and the willingness to step out of my comfort zone. I should say that travelling alone IS my comfort zone, I really have always liked it and never been afraid of it. But this time, sober, was a little scary. I won’t lie and say that that voice wasn’t there “no one will know if you drink”. I won’t lie and say that I never thought of it, though I barely did, the major exception being the wedding day in Santa fe and that brought me to my knees. Other than that I was fine, and that was big. Makes me feel safer about doing other things on my own.
Which brings me to today and what I have been feeling since I got back. And I’ll preface this with all of this is a good thing, positive, because it may not sound it but I have to believe that this is my next step.
I came back to an opportunity to place a picture of myself in a video done by a blogger friend, something I really wanted to do. I took a picture, well, the kid took pictures of me, and I balked. And I balked because who I am in my head is not at all who I see when I see a picture of myself. Or who I see in the mirror. I admit to never liking pictures of myself, but this is something different. And I think there is, again, no surprise that these feelings are surfacing after such a wonderful vacation, that part of me that hates me, that wants to stay in one place, that won’t risk and won’t change and won’t BE…full onslaught. Getting sick didn’t help because what a place for it to grow, to nestle in to my stuffed up head and runny nose. But it’s been a long time coming, and it needs to be addressed.
The first thing, the most important thing, is that the changes in me are making it harder and harder to hang on to the old shit. I don’t WANT to feel bad about myself, I don’t WANT to hold onto the past or wish to go back to it, I don’t WANT to be obsessed with what I don’t have every minute. I don’t want to compare and blame and obsess and hoard and do all the stuff that doesn’t suit me any longer. It’s time to focus on moving ahead rather than looking behind, that is clear. And as clear as it is it is scary. And as scary as it is it’s exciting. And as exciting as it is it is, it is, I don’t know. I think it’s good. Ultimately.
One thing holds me back though, something that I have been facing and not copping too or being honest about and it is making me crazy, and it is big, BIG. It has to do with accepting myself as I am , and I am old. I see myself as 40 and I’m not. Anymore. Those were the years I loved, even early 50…great years, but at 59 I am feeling old and being alone is not helping. It feels very sad. I try and counter it…take the solo vacations, go places by myself, try and plot my life as a woman alone. But then I remember sex and being part of a couple and how I want that..I do. And it screws me up and makes me scared and makes me feel old and not be able to post a picture of me because then everyone would see I’m old. It’s a glitch that feels like a colossus.
And then the big part is the letting go. Of all those expectations of myself, of someone riding in on a white horse to save me from this lonely life. Of selling the house.
Becaue that’s what I have to do, I have to get out. And, just as I kept clothes and shoes for over a year just incase Tom needed them when he came back, I keep the house the same way. Where will he go when he…
he’s never coming back. that part of my life is and has been through, whether I acknowledge it fully or not. The vacation worked on me mysteriously and I knew, knew….I think the point of knowing was at the wedding, that was why it was so hard for me. It was so clear that Tom was out of the picture, that everyone had moved on, which is ok, which is natural. I don’t know what else I expected.
And now I have to get my house in order, literally and figuratively, that’s my work. And when I do, who knows? Maybe I will get back to Sedona or Abuquerqe or Cambria, I just don’t know But somewhere else, there are somewhere else’s. And there is a me that is not focussed on age or looks or al of those things that make me feel so insecure, there is a me that is focussed on others and service and spirituality (whatever that means) and that hopes for and trusts in a new and better day. Because I have seen the possibilities, they are there. I just have to ask.
And follow directions.