Am I mourning the end of something beautiful? Or am I just shedding more skin to step into it? Am I preparing for the end of something and expressing remorse and fear? Or am I fighting the beauty and truth of my reality, simply fighting it, not allowing myself to fall into it? Or do I know its time to move on? To take action and do the scariest, yuckiest option? Does it make me cry because it is right and real? Or does it make me cry because it is wrong and false?
I need a tarot card, a shooting star, a sign from the heavens. I want to believe in miracles. I want to believe my Inner Guide is helping me, is showing me my truth. I want to trust this process and sit and meditate and breathe. But I also know such sweet packages rarely show up on our doorstep. I've learned in my 30 years that you have to not only ask for it, but go get it, and struggle a bit. Is that my story, a self-fulfilling prophecy or simply my destiny? Does it matter? I suppose not.
The hardest part is, I want to want it all. I want this to be enough. I want to turn off and fall asleep and move through this life, things as they are, and be full and be happy and never ask for more. But I can't. Something in me is screaming. Is begging for something else. And that hurts. And it is frustrating and it makes me want to keep searching, keep writing, keep mediating. Is it real? Am I leaning the right way? Am I not trying hard enough? Is there another way? But this only leads to further anxiety, darker circles under my eyes, more heartache. Only makes me feel flawed or sense impending doom.
And then I just want to run. To stop analyzing myself. To stop asking the hard questions. To just move home with my Mom and go to the beach, and teach yoga, and start again. The 21 year old me is appalled, but she was only so brave, so aware. Part of me envies her though. She was selfish and inspiring in her own right. If only she knew her greatness... But that wasn't the plan. I am here and now. And I choose where I will be. It can be good or bad. The choice is mine. I am so done with self-help and perspective and choose love and all that positive psychology BS. I need to stop. I need to just be. But be somewhere else. I cant think here. I love him too much and I hate NYC too much. It makes this just beyond overwhelming, So damn stressful. So exhausting. I need the ocean. I need a tribe. I need to figure this out, to have a plan, to take a step, any step, before I drown or spontaneously combust. My head is pounding. More water. Less brain-dumping. More cuddling and movies and breathing.
Is that positive distraction? Is that healing? Or is that an escape? What is feeding what? And at what point do we stop questioning it all? How do we stay small and accept. How long do we remind ourselves of the "why" versus moving towards the "how".
Less than two weeks before I get on that plane, say good bye to all I know, and hopefully, find more of the answers I seek, More of the space I need.