I can’t remember a time I didn’t. It seems as though I’ve always chosen love when given the option. Shit, even when it wasn’t. I think this is what sets me apart from the young women in my life. They chart, plan and adjust accordingly. I follow my bliss and hope it all works out for the best.
This picture is from a new space I’ve created in my house. This space is long overdue and I’m so fortunate to have the means and ability to make this need come to life. I’ve laid claim to the guest bedroom and finally, selfishly, explained to my Husband that I need a hiding place – a place to write, read, meditate and just BE. It’s going to be my new quiet place where I can indulge the 16 year old girl inside me, petulantly waiting to be indulged.
If it were up to my Husband, we’d be within arms reach at all times. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and searched for a man like that since as far back as I could remember, but I’m also a dramatic soul prone to bouts of melancholy and a strong longing for solitude.
At work I have no privacy and it’s a non stop flurry of everyone needing me all the time. In between never ending conversations, emails and phone calls, I’m always fielding texts and calls from either my teenage son or soon to be 101-year old Grampa.
These things are all blessings but damn …. sometimes I need a time out.
The point of this post is to create another starting point. A catch up, if you will and an indicator of things to come. Tomorrow I have an appointment with a personal trainer and I’m about to embark on another plan to shed the unwanted and dreaded extra pounds on my curvy frame.
I’ll be turning 40 years old in 3 weeks. I’m lightweight freaking out because guess what makes low self esteem and poor body image even worse?
So once again I’m following my heart. Not in a romantic way like usual. No, this time I’m following my heart down a path that hopefully cultivates self acceptance and love.
I’m following my heart back to me.