It's never good when your therapist says to you "I think we should revisit whether or not coming every other week is really enough". A bit of a wake up call I suppose. Last week concluded the end of my fifth week back to work. It's crazy that soon I'll have been back as long as I was off for my sabbatical. Time certainly flew during my time off - but the pace at which it moves now that I'm back to work has seemed insane. Maybe that's why I've neglected the blog for a few weeks. I think I honestly felt like I didn't have much that was worth saying. I think I'd started to lose a little of my voice. I've been trying to stay focused on the things I've learned about myself, but recently I felt like things were starting to slip away a little.
Fortunately, these feelings coincided with a therapy appointment. I've been trying everything from Reiki to Hypnosis (and a few other less healthy options) to lift me out of the funk I've been in over the past week. I'd chalked all this up to being back to work and recently being informed about a role change. It's a move that could be beneficial for me, but is going to undoubtedly turn up the stress meter a few notches. It's funny how life works that way. Just when I was starting to feel zen.
So, anyway, I rolled into therapy prepared to talk about all this work mess. But she started by asking how things were doing in the men department. Now, I should stop being so surprised by the things that make me tear up. For whatever reason, I'm still having a hard time figuring out what's upsetting me. I've improved my ability to recognize my emotions (rather than ignoring them and stuffing them down), but pinpointing the source of my discomfort apparently still alludes me and requires some professional help. So what was this tearing up mess about? As I suppose it often is for women around the world...it was about a boy.
A few weeks ago I wrote about a guy I described as "The Lesson". He's someone I'd met about six months ago and had a chance to reconnect with last month when I drove through his town about 2.5 hours away. I returned completely smitten with this guy. I'd written that if nothing happened with him, it was already going to hurt...even after meeting just a couple of times. So I'm not sure why I was surprised to find that, here I was, hurt. Tearing up talking to my therapist. I'd freaking predicted it!
I'm not entirely sure exactly what happened. I have no doubt that the connection I felt was real. And I suppose I believed that the universe would work this one out for me. A reward for all the work I've put in. But it just hasn't.
I'm a person who makes things happen. I always have been. I believe that the universe certainly creates opportunities for us - but I believe we have the power to create even more ourselves. I've done this with men in the past. It's not that I manipulate things. Rather, I have a sense for certaing an environment which allows things to happen. I'd been trying to quit doing that, particularly with men, and just let things play themselves out without too much of my interference. But this guy just wasn't biting. We exchanged plenty of texts - but never a phone call. We'd have a seemingly good text conversation - but then I wouldn't hear anything for a week. He'd ask what days were best for him to come visit - but a visit would never be planned. I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and created an opportunity for me to come to him. He jumped at the chance - but the day before I was meant to come down he said something had come up and he had to cancel. It was sort of the final straw. I could continue to try to make things happen with him - but, who was I kidding? I shouldn't have had to try this hard.
Until I walked into the therapist's office, I hadn't realized how much I'd really let myself develop feelings about this connection and what it could mean. Which sounds so incredibly lame and girly. My therapist assures me this is all a good thing. I opened myself up. But now I feel totally shitty that it hasn't worked out. Intellectually, I know that the part of me that feels like ass is the same part that's allowed me to connect more with people (and get so much positive energy from it). But, emotionally, it totally blows.
No one ever said life was easy. Most people will tell you that life is tough. It's messy, often uncooperative, and rarely predictable. People say things about life having its ups and downs; a rollercoaster ride. That it's not about the destination; it's about the journey. And that things worth having require effort and hard work. These things all certainly make sense to me. But, sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in; no matter how much you want something to happen and you are open - life has other plans.
I just hope that as I go forward I continue to keep myself open...but fine-tune my ability to pin-point and "hear" when I'm forcing it; when my intuition and my heart are telling me it's not working out. That's the time to let go and stop trying so hard. And it's okay to feel lame about it. Because as long as I'm feeling...I'm living.
Hasta, sabbaticaljo
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