For those who come for the recipes, the workouts, the wholesome eats, the wellness tidbits: if it hasn’t been clear, this past year has been a game changer for where I have focused my energy. I do have hope that I’ll find the creativity and inspiration to fill these pages with bites of whole food and fitness again; but, for now, I am using this space to find inner peace — to rewrite my story. As always, you are more than welcome to stay along for the ride!
This past Monday marked P’s one year army anniversary. One year ago to this day, my then boyfriend (now fiancé!) left on a plane to Oklahoma to begin his journey with the U.S. Army Reserves. While I expected the following year to be tough (Type A personality meets unpredictability), I wasn’t aware of the full spectrum of challenges that were ahead of me — presenting themselves one after another. For a highly sensitive person, this shit is exhausting.
I remember last Thanksgiving like it was yesterday: P was halfway across the country at Fort Sill for basic training; without access to his personal phone, I didn’t know if I’d hear from him, but assumed he might be able to call family for the holiday. I went to the gym early in the morning before hitting the road to my Grandma’s house. I was running on the treadmill listening to music when I got a call from an unknown number. Half asleep and sans coffee, it took me one ring too many to realize it was P calling. Duh! Who else would be calling from little Lawton, OK!? I picked up the phone a second too late. Immediately, I called the number back and was taken by surprise when a sergeant, I presume, answered the phone. I had missed my chance. I must have listened to that voicemail of P’s scratchy voice a handful of times that day.
Despite being surrounded by family, I fought back tears through our turkey feast. Everything was new, very very new; I felt raw and fragile. For the first time in years (my life?), my skin broke out in an outrageous rash. We thought it was an allergic reaction (to a food or supplement), but, in hindsight, I am nearly certain it was a reaction to stress.
That stress has continued to ebb and flow in powerful waves (and subsequent rashes) since last Thanksgiving until now. It has been one hell of a rough year, but, as ever, I have much to be grateful for. I debated writing a post this week titled “The Hardest Year of My Life”, but nixed the idea. Tomorrow being Thanksgiving and all — a holiday evocative of thankfulness and gratitude — has, rather fortunately, brought positive energy to the surface.
I am grateful for…
my illuminating yoga instructor — lunchtime yoga classes are my lifesaver: an hour of calm amongst the storm. I can not measure the gratitude I possess for our company’s yoga teacher — her words of wisdom, her peaceful presence, her ability to foster stability during shaky days, and nonetheless, for holding the space for me (and everyone else) to be on my mat and “accept myself as I am, right now”
my patient health care providers — who treat me like friends; who don’t judge my current story, but accept me how I am and who I am today
my dear mom — who listens, who encourages, and who loves without abandon
my caring dad — who calls, who checks-in, who assists me with the “hard things” when I need a hand
my unwavering fiancé — who continues to supply unconditional amounts of love and reassurance from 3,000 miles away
My heart is filled with gratitude for all who have helped me get through this roller coaster of a year, not excluding my supportive friends and blog buddies — thank you!
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!