Well my friends, here we are, one month into yet another new year. How can it possibly be 2015??? I’m totally in denial, because this year is a big one for me – it’s my 4oth year, folks. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?????!!!!!! (throws self into bed face down, sobbing uncontrollably into the pillow).
With that unfortunate milestone rapidly approaching, I can’t help but notice that even though we’re barely into the new year, 2015 is weird as fuck. Seriously, it seems like so many people including myself are making really *big* decisions and/or experiencing major life changes (of the super exciting as well as super difficult varieties). Already there have been relationship breakups, an engagement or two, baby news, job changes, career changes, new business launches, relocations, everything. No matter where I go or with whom I speak, I am definitely picking up on an energy of change.
This terrifies me. While some change is good (and trust me, I’ve made some hard decisions / changes lately that I’m hoping alter my path and result in good things) my track record for “positive change” is shit. In my life, when change hits me — particularly the unexpected kind — it’s usually something that sets me farther back, as opposed to pushing me further ahead. Like a schoolyard bully, it brutally mocks me for thinking I could be / do / take on something that obviously, I should not even attempt. A constant reminder that the pursuit of happiness is meant for other people.
A perfect and current example is the fact that I’m injured — obviously, this wasn’t a choice that I made or something I elected to happen, rather it’s another piece of shit thrown my way. With a complex tear of the labrum of my left shoulder, I am no longer flying. I am no longer teaching flying trapeze. I am no longer practicing yoga. I am injured and it hurts like hell (physically, mentally and emotionally). As I navigate treatment and recovery options (including a doctor’s recommendation for surgery that will keep me away from doing what I love to do for at least six months), I am realizing just how much of my time went into these pursuits that I love and that brought meaning and fulfillment to my life, and hopefully let me bring similar feelings into the lives of others whom I taught. Now that I am forced to stop teaching, training, practicing, and everything in between, all of a sudden I just have … time.
<SPOILER ALERT! Pathetic self-pity rant ahead!>
It fucking sucks. Yes, I realize that in the grand scheme of life’s problems this is pretty far down on the scale, but it is huge to me and it’s heart wrenching to deal with. This is my life – not only hobbies I am passionate about, but ways that I earn a living, things I love to do so much I found a way to make them professional endeavors. FUCK! I am so tired being put in situations outside of my control where I’m supposed to be this big, strong person and say things along the ridiculous lines of how my unexpected downtime afforded me opportunities to do/try/learn/fix things and become a better, stronger person. Haven’t I gone through that little game enough? I want to stamp my feet and ball my fists up and cry, “WHY ME????”. But, I can only do that for so long (in public, anyway) so instead I supplement my self-loathing with sitting around feeling sorry for myself and indulging in Candy Crush Saga while I binge watch Friends on Netflix.
<Ridiculously pathetic self-pity rant concluded>
But, here I am, physical therapy exercising my little heart out (even though my physical therapist has also told me to get the surgery) and exploring alternative treatments with grand hopes to get back to normal (read: flying through the air and upside down) as soon as possible. Keeping myself busy with projects and long-ignored responsibilities. Hoping that when I can return to my normal, I will be doing so with my shit so ridiculously together I’ll be preparing a workshop to teach people about keeping their shit together.
Oh, new year. Big year. Throw an old broad a bone, will ya? Because this girl is exhausted, and, quite simply, done.