Baggage

This blog started out as a journal about my dual journey to reconcile with the river after Hurricane Irene and my path back to health and my own life.  And that's not really a dual journey, I suppose, because I think the hurricane (downgraded to a tropical storm, most of us still call it "the hurricane"), although real and traumatic, was just the catalyst for a bunch of succeeding thoughts and circumstances that led me to finally take control of my health and, consequently, my life.  I suppose the hurricane represents the least amount of control.  It took weeks to get the disastrous mess left by Irene under control and months of renovation to get the house back under control.  I started getting my life back a few months after the paint dried and the furniture came in.  And I never looked back.

Until recently.

Since I've been back from Boston, I've been out-of-control eating, barely exercising and haven't been journaling food since before the trip.  It's all a vicious circle too.  Eating too much makes you feel lazy and leads to lack of exercise and journaling.  Lack of exercise affects your mood and sleep patterns.  Feeling weak and tired does not equip you for good choices.  So if eating is your Achilles' heal, you'll probably eat without preparation, intention and reason.  Although the trip was beautiful and I had so much fun, my wonderful mood was completely stripped upon my return to the office.  A dramatic mess awaited there that shook me up and turned my world upside down.  Even though the situation is more or less resolved, I've not been sleeping, eating too much and wasting time in the same sort of lethargy of the spirit that marked my years before April 2012.  I've been blaming my feelings on work, however, knowing deep down that there must be more to it because work doesn't own me any more.  What is holding me down for real?

I've been well aware of all the poor choices I'm making.  I can hear myself making excuses and being my own chief enabler.  I eat and tell myself I don't care.  

Yesterday I was reminded that it was my brother and sister-in-law's anniversary.  That's when it hit me:  Tuesday I would have been married 29 years.  Last year I was so buoyed by my weight-loss success and the concert travel that I barely noticed the date.  I don't remember anything about August 2011 before the storm hit but I think I didn't pay much attention that year.  Most years, I'm okay.  But some years are paralyzing.  And the really weird thing is, until something triggers an association with the date, I'm at a loss to explain the overwhelming pervasive sadness that invades my body.  It's not like divorced people have their wedding anniversaries on the calendar, after all. I remember one year a few years after I'd started at the school, I couldn't move.  I couldn't get out of bed.  I called out sick and again the next day.  The second day I called the only administrator who was working that week.  I remember it was the BA and she mentioned the date:  August 6.  I remember saying, Is today August 6?  Energy and relief came flooding into my body and I could function again.  I recognized the source of the paralysis and I could move on immediately.   The trigger this year was the mention of someone else's anniversary.  I became flooded with relief again at having figured it out again and realizing that it's only temporary; that I'm not going to undo all the good I've done myself.  

I just have to get past Tuesday. 

Baggage.  I obviously still have baggage.  Just when I thought I'd put it down forever, it's clear I still have some--at least a carry-on. 

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Music is a big part of the cure these days.  This weekend, here's what's helping a lot:

Michael Franti & Spearhead, I'm Alive (Life Sounds Life) 

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This appeared in my Twitter feed about 15 minutes after publishing this post.  Thanks @Lindsay_Gal for sharing it. Guess I'll be listening to some Matt Cusson soon...