Mountains are often used as metaphors of challenges that feel insurmountable and impossible to scale, as we stand at the bottom viewing the craggy and jagged edges, piecing the sky … cloaked with an insidious mist clutching, hiding the prize that we seek …
The mountain is not so much outside of myself, it is the ‘old ‘self within …the fears, the traumas, the coping mechanisms that became my tools of survival …the bedrock of my life …an obstruction that keeps me from the healthy life that I want to live …
I must become the heroine of my story. Mastering myself and in the doing, mastering the mountain that has loomed over the landscape of my life for what seems like a millennium …
The last couple of weeks have been a fascinating learning journey…after two months of one of an extremely stressful periods in my life …I felt like a failure for not being able to accomplish the desired result that I had dreamed of …I sat there staring at all the little broken in pieces of my heart …
The very day that I came back home …another punch in the gut with news that was life altering …so I just sat and cried, and cried some more …everything within me shattered …then I surrendered …there was nothing that I could do the change the outcomes …Logically, I know that as humans, we do not have control over some of life’s bumps …but I have lived a great deal of my life with the uncontrollable need to try to control situations and people in my sphere …out of the fear of lost, being alone without the capability to survive …
A stressful situation has always triggered anxiety and fear that sweet and Carby foods were able to sooth in the moment …the challenge of becoming healthier now at 60+ has many additional facets that have needed to be addressed …most so neurologically engrained that stepping out of the grooved ruts to build new pathways seemed most difficult, if not impossible …
My being stubborn does have its advantages sometimes …I have dreams and goals that have not dissipated into the midst of the grey hopelessness and depression that often surrounds me, causing me to fall off the mountain so many times … they keep tapping me on the shoulder …’you can’t give up,’ …’you have things to create,’ “people to love” …my obstinacy would raise its head and with bloody nose, broken bones, bruised knees (and my angel’s help) I would get up …to try one more time …
I sat several days with the breath knocked out of me …surrounded by all the broken pieces …sitting there, trying to get my breath back …I kept telling myself “breath in, breathe out,” “breath in, breath out” as I viewed each broken piece that glittered in the South African sun …strange creative thoughts arriving of what a beautiful mosaic they would make …I picked up a piece and gratitude filled my heart as I viewed the memory of that piece of myself …
I cannot tell you what magic occurred during the last two weeks …but the mountain disappeared, and a previously unseen path materialized in front of me …as I relinquished my control over what was and will be …opened my heart with gratitude for the wonder and gifts of each moment …
The path, my broken heart opened, will not be without perils, obstacles, and challenges …for that is what we call “life” …I have gathered all the broken pieces and carry them all close to my heart, in a bag embroidered with a heart❤ with gratitude…I am slowing down, taking one step at a time …embracing each moment with graciousness and peaceful thankfulness of the present moment …finding the way to my destination with less fear and apprehension …
Each extra unhealthy pound that I carry holds an old emotion, hurt, or trauma that I pushed down …to be released, I must hold them to the light of love …until they are transformed and released …the journey is one that may be arduous and painful at times …but less so, than the previous ones of scaling the mirage of that unscalable mountain that I viewed through all the years of listening to the ‘diet industry’ …
“The difference between a path and a road is not only the obvious one. A path is little more than a habit that comes with knowledge of a place. It is a sort of ritual of familiarity. As a form, it is a form of contact with a known landscape. It is not destructive. It is the perfect adaptation, through experience and familiarity, of movement to place; it obeys the natural contours; such obstacles as it meets it goes around.”
Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays
Still maintaining the habits that assist me on the path, such as intermittent fasting, low intake of carbs, and less stress in my life …I had lost almost 5 pounds …Christmas Eve with my South African family and Christmas Day were bumps …a charming Christmas Eve dinner with family and a tearful ‘missing’ the traditional Christmas that I observed in the USA with my kids and family …
My Christmas gift to you is shining the light of love, sharing the knowledge that you are not alone in the darkness of your struggles in the tempetuous and wild storms of life …you are loved beyond your imagination …love yourself …hold yourself tight …the magic will appear …hold on my dear one❣
Threads of Thought 