And, as I reflect, I suppose there was grieving for what was lost and what I had hoped.
I feel like I fell off the wagon – a hard fall – one that’s tough to get back up from without some help. And it is hard not to beat myself up about it. I used to exercise regularly. It was my release, and I was a fanatic about it. And then something happened.
There was a shift.
I can’t pinpoint anything other than a body that began to change and a spirit that felt – no feels – stuck. Then again, the past few years have been filled with ups and downs. And change. There was a pandemic, losing my job, questioning my purpose, finding my way, making a career change, hybrid work, business travel, making new inroads, stepping outside of my comfort zone, and all the hiccups and hurdles in between.
And there is menopause. The life shift continues to challenge me. Admittedly, something I hadn’t prepared for. But I’m learning how to navigate it.
And, as I reflect, I suppose there was grieving for what was lost and what I had hoped. For the body I knew and the spirit that once thrived. For the trajectory I thought I wanted. For the friends, I thought I had made. It’s funny to piece it together and make sense of things after all this time.
But, I suppose writing my heart out consistently for almost a year has brought me here – to this place of reflection. In doing so, I’ve been able to wade through the current as it forces me to stop and take stock.
I haven’t always liked what I’ve found, and that’s been hard. Yet, through it all, I’ve continued to make inroads, I suppose—and piece together the ever-changing puzzle of my life. The picture I saw a month or a year ago continues to morph. And along with it, I continue to explore who I am.
Perennial.
Year after year, I suppose I bloom and rest.
