A Lot of A Little

Time to apologize for another absence. When so much life is happening at once I seem not to have emotional energy left to translate myself into words and thoughts. I don’t like it. My posts here are mile-markers. They’re the proof I give myself that I am present, engaged. That my days aren’t passing without notice. That my hopes are being logged. That my fears are being confronted. That my thoughts – even the ones I can’t seem to shove out of my mouth even to my safest friends – are being said HERE so that you will read them, and consequently force me to own them.

So, where have I been? Who have I been? Let’s recap. Praise the friggin’ heavens – I was given a door out of that awful, soul-crushing, despondent torture-chamber of a job I held for the last few months. I’ve never worked anywhere for less than four years since I entered the work force, so when I quit after mere months, you can bank on the fact that it is a workplace fit for no one with a beating heart. Through a cosmic play of events – a conversation between friends, multiplied into a game of career Telephone – I stepped through a new door into a job tailor-made to fit. Countryside setting? Check. Weddings? Check. Farm-to-table restaurant? Check. Dream team? Check. Autonomy, trust, and respect? Check. Really, it could hardly be a more complete collection of so many things that make me truly happy. That said, I’m smack dab in the middle of a business growing faster than the speed of light. I enjoy working at a fast, demanding pace. More than most, I think. But even I feel like a railroad worker, trying to furiously lay down track in front of a screaming train. In a good way. Becca recently asked me how it was going, and I replied, “It’s like drowning, but in something you love, like champagne.” Cheers?

Understandably, all that work-champagne has left little time for many additional life categories, and I think I have an emotional hangover. I feel hollow. I feel like my soul has atrophied a bit. It’s been benched and gotten stiff knees and numb butt. (I know you know numb butt. That sitting-too-long, smashed-booty-feel). My spirit is itching to lift something heavy, do some wind sprints, just DO SOMETHING. All this workout talk is no coincidence – my body is just as bland as my spirit lately. I miss my muscles, both kinds. I can’t force dynamic turns of events into my path, but I can get moving, and looking back, undertaking great physical adventures has always ushered in times of greater growth. Half-marathons, farm work, hiking out West and back…I wonder what’s next.

It’s been a rough week. This time last year I was falling in love at first sight, sure that I had run a hundred miles an hour right into someone who could just be the one to take up residence in my future. Everything reminds me of it. My tanned arms, the South’s inescapable humidity, Fourth of July plans and the smell of horses. Was it only a year ago? It feels as far away as the moon, and yet I can still feel his hand around mine. So what did I do with this year? What does this girl know that last July’s didn’t?

I know that I’ve never liked who I am more than when I loved someone. I just shined. It brought out tenderness and patience and grace in me I never imagined I might have. It perplexes me, then, to have it taken away. At thirty-three, every day alone feels so drab. I’ve had the freedom, I’ve had the career. Bring me love! Let me live THAT story now. Life feels like it is SPRINTING by, months and seasons I want to be sharing but sit unoccupied. I’m reminded of the famous Buddha quote – “The trouble is, you think you have the time” – but I don’t! I know I don’t, and I don’t want to lose another day.

I also know that people are unpredictable, even to themselves. Love, I know now, is even less safe than I feared it was before I lived it. Feelings change, promises are broken. But Shakespeare, that bastard, was indeed right. Better to have loved and lost, which just sounds utterly foolish, but I can’t deny it’s true. I’d do it all over again, even though my heart winces as I write that.

And I know that God has a weird, bizarre, unpredictable, and occasionally downright irritating plan. Everything has served a purpose, and I mean everything – jobs, friends, loves, all lost and gained in an exquisitely woven story. Seven months of workplace hell led to important lessons learned, friendships gained, and the right move at the right time. A summer of first love led to character grown, spirit awakened, and…? The next love? Or love nevermore? No one has answer for that. Not you, not me. We’ll all just have to wait together and watch.

In the meantime, a little yoga, a little run, a little champagne, a little laughter, a little cry. A little at a time makes for a lot of life, actually.

A little at a time makes for a lot of life

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