Two Weeks Here

A friend of mine (and fellow blogger) recently wrote a blog entitled "Two Weeks". The gist was just how much can happen in so short a period of time. Very eloquent, T.

Two weeks ago I had a gnawing feeling in my gut. It's the same gnawing feeling that has been rumbling in my belly for a few years. I was trying to figure out how to continue life as it had been, with the gnawing sensation in my belly, that I could subdue occasionally, but that never really went away, that I had come to recognize as the physical manifestation of my anxiety. The source of that anxiety was constant and unmoving, and I couldn't seem to thicken my skin or develop enough detachment to rid myself of the gnawing feeling. I realized, in a moment two short weeks ago, when the rumbling moved from my belly and into my head, flowing out of my twisted face in the form of uncontrollable tears, that the only thing that I could really change was my proximity to the source of this anxiety. And so I made a decision to move forward.

The decision itself defies common sense. I get that. But I also know that the knot in my belly is gone, that every morning since the making of that decision I've woken up easily, without having to smack the snooze button a dozen times, dreading being pulled from my slumber. (Well, there was that Sunday morning last week, but I blame the wine and fondue-fest of the night before. :-) My body and heart are telling me that this is the right choice, and for once I'm telling my brain to step aside and listen to them. You know that cliche, "The weight of the world being lifted from your shoulders"? It is truth. I feel lighter and breathe easier, and so I stand by my illogical choice.

I welcomed another furry beast into my home. It had been over 2 years since I said good-bye to my Tully, and I was finally ready to find another kitty to love and care for. Three is the right number of cats for me; the three that I had in my home (Gracie, Sam, Tully) 7 years ago, when I started my journey in vet medicine, are gone now. Two of them were under the age of 6 when they died. I grieve for their departure, but weep in gratitude for all they taught me. About the fragility of life and how to live in every moment. About the simplicity and absolute necessity of joy. About the capacity that I have in my heart, that I can channel through my mind and through my hands. I make a difference in my work because of their continued presence in my soul, and as I sit here laughing over my new cat Fido's antics I am happy and oh so grateful that grief does not have to mean an end to joy. Not if you don't let it.

There are other developments. For some of us, things have gone back to normal. Sadly, normal, in these circumstances, does not equate good. I don't know what actions to take, and am wondering if maybe there is no action to take. What I can say for sure is my role in things will not be as it has been in the past. For my own sake, I will no longer sit idly by while the elephants in the room trample the furniture and suffocate me with their sheer numbers. I can find freedom from anxiety. I can invite joy into my home. And I can speak the truth of things. I will not be afraid of honesty, however painful it may be. Pain only hurts; duplicity destroys from within. I'll survive the pain of truth to see it prevail. Some of you will be on board with that.

And some of you won't be, and more's the pity for you.

-C.