Here I sit, on a sunny Sunday morning, in my enclosed patio. The neighborhood is quiet and I have the windows opened a crack. The air is still a little cool, the birds are chirping, and the cats are lounging out here with me. This is a perfect morning as we lead into my favorite season: Summer.
The world is coming back to life and so am I. This winter was hard and I’m so thankful to be shedding it. There was loss, health scares, surgery, job loss, illnesses, among the many stressors that ruled my life from October through March. Add in my best friend moving across the state and the general crappiness that is winter here, I was not in a good place.
I handled it all as best as I could. I tried to focus on what I could actually control, did a lot of breathing exercises, meditation, journaling, etc. I allowed myself to feel whatever it was I needed to feel. Still, it weighed on me. From November through January I blamed my lack of movement on the idea I was cuddling with Milo for the time we had left together. It was true, the cuddles kept him calm and happy, and we did have limited time.
After he passed, I remained in an immobile funk. I worked, saw family, friends, did the basics of keeping the house cleaned, but that was about it. I just couldn’t get motivated to move my body or do anything beyond being a lump wrapped in blankets, either on the couch or in my bed.
As I sit on the patio this morning, I’m seeing the progress. I’m pushing through and coming back, just like my rosebushes with their buds, the beautiful, lush green world just beyond the windows, we are all coming back to life.
Martinis and Meltdowns 