Car crash. Blood sugar crash. Energy crash. Mood crash. Yeah, I’ve had them all, and as Isaac Newton reminds us, the negative is inevitably going to follow the positive.
This sunny girl shines for so long, even my sweet husband forgets that sometimes even I get the blues. No it has nothing to do with family or the holidays. I simply feel the gravity of all the challenges I’ve faced all yea- stuff the public is all too aware of, and stuff I’ve been keeping quiet and gluing together so nothing that shouldn’t falls apart- finally drop like an avalanche and knock me down. Now I can finally fall now that everything is really alright.
I give a lot of energy to a lot of people (and dogs) and I try to remember to save some energy for myself. Days like today I gave the last drops of my reserve supply, and then floated up to my attic/office like that whisp of smoke from a recently extinguished a candle. I don’t plan it; I never intend to let myself fade or wither. I just simply keep on going forward because that’s my favorite direction, and about this time of year I forget to look at the gas gauge.
The worst part is I allowed myself to miss so many of those beautiful little opportunities to recharge. I invested in a one year membership to The Studio for hot yoga sessions where I can sweat out the toxic parts of my day and breathe in all good stuff, all good positive charge. But I’d cancel my registration to make more phone calls, set more appointments. So many summer days I declined the opportunities to get out on the rivers and cast a few of my own flies to trick some trout. It would have seemed too selfish for our marrriage at the time. And so many evenings a good run would have really done my mind a lot of necessary therapy, but my dog was so incredibly sick, and it got worse when we ran, yet he’d get so excited when I tied on the running shoes that I would tuck them away instead.
Was it worth it?
Is true love worth every ounce of energy you put into it?
The energy from those who love me rolls in like a soft wave carrying the last shimmers of the passing sunset and a warm memory of the summer heat, still rebererating in the bay. It’s comfortable, refreshing, and perfectly imperfect. I will sleep tonight surrounded in the small secure family, all healthy, safe, and content. All is well. Nobody needs my sturdiness for a while. It’s OK to collapse, even cry a little, I tell myself. Everything is truly all right.