Health Goals

As inspired by A Garden For Butterflies blog post.

I'm going to hold myself accountable by writing my health goals here.

I'm not just talking eat less shit and work out more.

I'm talking holistic Mind Body Spirit health goals.

I need to. We all do.

I've been going to a weekly women's group. I hate it but would feel bad if I didn't show up. So I endure it. It's about self care and what we do to nurture ourselves.

I spend a lot of time on my own during the day when the kids are at school and pre school so I guess I feel like that is my self care time. I think though having time away from the kids to hang washing and go to the post office aren't really self caring activities, unless of course you really enjoy those things...

So a health goal that was reignited last week was my decision to brave the gym again. My membership was still current, I just lost interest. It's easy to forget how good it makes you feel to sweat it out on a treadmill. Really easy. Hence my 5 month absence from it.

Goal #1 Try to go to the gym a couple of times a week

Goal #2 Think about the food I'm eating and the possible emotions behind them

Goal #3 Find a kickboxing class and release some of that tension

Goal #4 This one has been really jumping out at me. Create more. Paint, draw, cut and paste. Whatever just create more. It's in me just waiting for an outlet.

That's a good starting point, don't you think?

Jeans

I am here.

That's about it for me.

I traded my maternity jeans for a pair with an actual name. "THE BUTTLIFTER" and they cost a fortune but they do as the name would claim they do.

I can't commit to anything more than sharing my new jeans with you.

It might get messy.

Mirrors and wisdom

It's that time again.
The time when my emotions begin to unravel.
The tightly bound ribbon holding it together begins to fray.
The cycle begins.
I get lost in my mind.
It dawns on me, that in fact I'm not great or okay or even as wonderful as I thought I was.
I lied to myself. Or I tricked myself into thinking I really was moving in the right direction.
Or I am okay and just having a "moment".
How many of those are you allowed in a lifetime?

I've been asked on a number of occasions if I've I felt like I've really grieved.
Or if I'm really ready to let her go.

How do you know?
How do you honestly know that you've grieved enough? How do you know it's safe?
How do you let go? Let go of what exactly?

I've spent days pondering this. I say, even out loud I'm ready to let her go.
But what does that mean? What does that involve?

I do realise I'm in a different place in my heart and my head. I'm adjusting to life again but it's rough. I'm different. I'm new. I'm learning about me. It sounds so cliche! The new me. It's ridiculous but on a more serious note, I'll explain.

I spent a weekend away at a training retreat. It was amazing. I went to study and get my practitioner certificate for bush flower essences.
Anyway I shared a cabin with a complete stranger. Intense for me, the loner. We discussed many things over that weekend and I learnt so much about life after trauma. I'm not just talking about grief and loss. I'm talking about any kind of trauma to a person. How it really changes you. Our experiences were so completely different yet so very similar in the aftermath. At one point we both began with the same sentence. "I just woke up one day and looked in the mirror and didn't recognise the person staring back at me."

Only someone that's lived it knows what that really means. So many people tell me I'm still the same person and it will heal over time. Yeah yeah time does heal. You don't have to be stuck in the dark forever. I'm working on that bit.
Slowly.

But when you look in the mirror and you really have to wonder who you are, what you want, need and love and what happened to you. That's not something you just walk through easily. That's not something that will put itself back together. That takes work. Really hard work.

This same stranger shared stories of love and trauma and of loss. She'd been there and had just barely walked out the other side. Yet here she was 6 years later crying the same tears but without the crippling hold. Without the guilt. She worked hard and processed. She was free from that black hole.

Her words left a lasting imprint in my soul. Something I'd never ever thought of. I was so busy beating myself up with guilt and hurt and pain. I'd never looked at it any other way.

"Your daughter gave up her life for you. She gave up her life so you could walk from this and continue to live, to love and to learn. She gave you her life."

She did.

Stitches

I keep dreaming about her.

She's alive and healthy and here.

Life is boringly normal. It's nothing exciting, just day to day life stuff but it's all foggy and unclear.

Then I wake up and I swear I've got an actual gaping hole in my chest.

It's tearing apart as I try to breathe.

My world comes crashing down around me as my eyes adjust to the daylight.

It's not supposed to be shocking now, yet it is. It's very real.

I flick on the computer it hums into life and up pops a picture of her feet.

Cute little pink feet bathed in sunlight on a fluffy pink sheepskin rug.

I remember when B took that photo. I was actually out of a hospital bed and in a chair.

I remember the sun out the window.

I remember being humored by the hideous yellow outfit she was wearing.

Then I remember that I once had a little baby girl. I did. I really did.

The hole inside my chest appears again just to let me know that it's real.

This pain is real.

She was real.

I stumble throughout the day trying to keep the hole closed enough for me to breathe.