I think the issues came on with an anniversary (2 years post-treatment), me quitting a job, not knowing what would take its place, the semester being over, and then having my hours reduced at the hospital. That's fairly significant. On top of this, my father/neighbor has been in pain for quite awhile, and he was debating, and determined, to have hip replacement surgery (which was not in "our" best interest, but in his).
Scott and I hit the road to Durango, CO the end of May, and I tried to live in the moment for a week. And as the miles between Orem, and Scott and me, grew, my peace began to return. My anxiety attacks lessened (something I hadn't had in 11 years, until cancer), and my jaw-clenching abated.
I see vacations as a time to let go of the baggage I've collected while living in the every day. I become burdened, or I burden myself with the non-essentials of day to day life.
I released, I felt free, and I came home, not necessarily refreshed, but with my shoulders a little lighter. And my realization has been this - something I've been preaching, but not totally practicing: "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him."
That is - I could either micro-manage my life, semi-letting go, or I could truly let go, step into the unknown, and trust the unknown. I'd preached to my addict congregation that in order to practice the 3rd Step, it was important to make the decision to make the decision to turn our will over, and although I'd made the initial decision, it wasn't until I was in Durango that I realized I couldn't do the entire step. So - a cut in hours, a tremendous cut in pay, and well, there was truly panic, anxiety, pain, and freak-out angst. And then the realization came that I could either continue in that direction, which was just sticking around with the same 'ole, or I could turn my will and my life over. I did. I was forced into this position out of sheer necessity. And with that release came the most tremendous peace I have ever felt.
Peace like a river. Not even letting the river flow, because I don't have that kind of control! Stepping into the flow, and floating. I can't control my dad's decision, my employer's decision, my cancer anniversaries. But I can "be." I can float and be kind, be true, and do no harm - to myself or others. And just like that, the river began to flow, and the lessons I've learned this summer, without forcing lessons, have been amazing. I've sought out rivers this summer, and as I've found them, I've found me.
More to come -
Ouray, CO June, 2015