I watched the sun come up through the trees from my deck this morning. I managed a good, long, very needed sleep. My throat was sore again by the time I went to bed. I took a couple of zinc and somehow managed to sleep almost 8 hours. Today it’s better, much better. It’s still there, like an annoyance.
I don’t know why my body is so exhausted. I don’t expend that much energy doing things during the day. I suppose it’s emotional. Repercussions of the move, buried deep. You know, they say, well, Iyanla Van Zant says, and is backed up by Brene Brown, Elizabeth Gilbert, and many other great teachers, that the things you bury don’t die. They rot, and fester and make you sick.
The quest for me is to figure out what it is I’ve buried and let it surface, because it’s making me sick. The sore, swollen lump on one side of my throat is this thing trying to be heard, acknowledged, be released. Maybe it’s something that I just can’t let go of. Maybe it’s years of holding on, being strong, fighting for my life, my sovereignty. Maybe it’s attaching to myself someone else’s beliefs about me, and/or stressing over them, that are not true.
Maybe it’s forgetting, time and again, that I too, deserve love and belonging. Maybe it’s that I don’t necessarily feel I “belong” here, in my new home yet. Maybe it’s the being alone for so long, the craving for love, and companionship, never completely or consistently fulfilled, that’s wearing on me.
Maybe it’s all of the above, or some combination.
My sister and brother-in-law are coming today. They’re bringing me a desk for me to use in the workspace of my house, for writing and jewelry making. My sis is going to help me to place the rest of my artwork on the walls. I have a lot of it left, and I need her artist’s eye to show it off. Most of it are paintings she painted for me, or just gave me because I loved them. A couple are prints from places in New England I loved. New London Harbor, where we kept our boat, and sailed in and out of a thousand times. Menemsha, up in Martha’s Vineyard, one of my favorite places on earth. It’s what they call up-island, and while it gets some tourists, it’s off the beaten tourist track. For the most part the summer tourists stay on the eastern side, in Edgartown, Vineyard Haven, Oak bluffs. Menemsha is a working fishing village. I loved a man who fished out of there.
When sister and brother-in-law come, they’ll help to recenter me, to give me a place of love and belonging in their lives, and them one in mine.
Tonight, I’ll go to the open mic night at the local outdoor restaurant. Everyone will be back, all my friends who left for Thanksgiving. My friend Beth has been working on a special song for it, and one of the guys is going to back her on guitar. I’ll sit with these new friends, and try to find a new sense of love and belonging, and try to let go of old ones that are now in the past, but still much thought about, and missed.
It seems crazy, on December 1, to be sitting outside at daybreak and the temp is about 70. I’m dressed in just my nightgown. Perhaps the dissonance between the rhythms my body has been used to for my whole life, of the 4 seasons, and this….the consistent, perfect weather that I craved, is adding to the stress that’s exhausting me emotionally. I hated winter, but I have some of my best memories in winter.
Still adjusting. It’s harder than I thought. Of course, having my car totaled and injuries from it, doesn’t help. But I’m still happy I’ve made the move, happy to be here. I’m grateful that I managed to put together the plan, and carry it out. Now if my lagging emotional baggage will just catch up.
Love and light everyone.