Sometimes–many times–life gets complicated.
Things happen outside our control, and we choose how we respond. Other times we just complicate our lives.
And many times, we complicate our lives in response to something that happens outside of our control.
The last years have been a bit complicated in my own life, due to decisions made by others that rattled me, decisions that left me screaming, kicking, probing for answers… which I know simply added fuel to the fire.
And I have complicated my own life in various ways.
I have in recent months been focusing on ME, as in “It’s time Amy does some real reflection on her own life.”
A certain relationship needed a major “Let’s get us right” timeout, and I needed it to save myself from the version of me I’d allowed myself to create in all this nonsense.
And through my processing, honoring my own flaws while being ever cognizant that I cannot be responsible for others’ choices, I felt great warmth this morning.
It’s been my practice the past 6 years or so to write Morning Pages every morning. This special time, right after I pour my first cup of coffee, provides me with space on pages to just do a brain dump, releasing whatever is in my head before I really begin my day.
As I began writing this morning, a stream of memories over a period of a couple decades came flowing out:
- Candles lining a Norfolk, Virginia, sunroom years ago, signaling “I am here, and I am eagerly awaiting your visit.”
- Two people huddled on a bench in downtown Lewes, DE, sipping coffee on a brisk day as they overlooked the water.
- Stealthily herding a German border terrier in and out of a condo that had a strict “No Pets” rule and the excitement of being a “criminal”
- The uncontrollable laughter of two people sitting in a driveway after a trivia night when one realized he had accidentally taken the keys of an artist/DJ who turned out to be a sham.
- The reassuring face onto which I latched as delivered my father’s eulogy.
The talked about ideas that never really solidified as goals: Retreats, a podcast, trips to the Badlands, old Route 66, and Ireland.
For the first time in a long time, I felt a physical sense of warmth as I wrote.
I smiled and closed my journal.
Amy Walton believes in the power of release through breath work, movement, and writing. Connect with her at amywaltoncoaching@gmail.com.