I don’t know if it’s ‘that time of the month’ or because I realise that all the dust is settling in my life or because nursing scares the sh-t out of me…but I am crying a lot.
I don’t think that crying is bad. I think that wallowing is bad.
I went to sleep last night crying. I realised that I have moved to a new place, for a boy, with a new job that gives me stress dreams of having babies (although I’ve been assured that babies in dreams mean that it’s new beginnings and that you’re not knocked up..thankGod!) and panic attacks.
I was doubting myself. I wanted comfort. I wanted to dis-engage. Run. Wallow. Be pissed off.
The sharp reality of my decisions we penetrating.
I have not a social network down here, I did where I came from.
I don’t like the city I live in, I did where I came from.
I am trapped in suburbia, I wasn’t where I came from.
…and so the mental tape continued and the drama-filled tears flowed.
Life…the precious beautiful, ugly, challenging, blissful thing that we’ve been given…is really a link of reactions, choices, events which happen to us, around us, against us and for us.
….it’s how we respond.
I DO HAVE CHOICE…to engage, rip the drama out, take food out of my coping mechanism and love what I have. where I am. what I’m doing.
There was a time, not so long ago, when I wanted to wallow. When feeding my feelings, being pissed off about the sacrifices I made to move, and to complain was what fueled my binging, my interactions and my ability to stay removed emotionally from my new life.
…so the babies speak through the dreams I’m having. (They’ve all been cute!) and it’s time for new beginnings. I’ve oftentimes reminded of the post by Andi about the detachment process with food. It reminds me of the process of detaching from wallowing in life.
Life is what you make of it…I’m beginning to realise that.