contraction // expansion
Monday, September 21, 2020
June. That's when I first felt it.
That odd and uncomfortable squeeze of the soul that preludes periods of expansion. The feeling, deep and unsettling, coiled itself around my feet, the way my cats often do, waiting for attention after I've told them off. I try not to notice. If I ignore it, it'll go away, and I won't need to pick the headless squirrel up off of my bedroom floor.
Change is always dramatic for me. I'm sure I can blame this on some placement in my birth chart, the way I blame every tear that escapes my eyes on my beloved Pisces Moon, but in reality I know it's my own fear that makes it so.
I sat in discomfort for months. The kind of discomfort that lodges itself deeply and resolutely in your soul. I felt off, wrong, uncomfortable in my body and in every word I said. I cried to S more often than I'd like to admit. I knew change was coming. And it will come, whether you're ready or not (I am very often not). I will delay it for so long that it grows teeth and comes to drag me out on its own. I fear the pain, the discomfort, the darkness of it all. I fear the loss of things and the gaping blank spaces those things will leave behind. They intimidate me. A blank canvas ready to be decorated before I've chosen the paints. And as I delay it so long, change becomes a purge so absolute that only the purest things for my heart remain and I'm left with very little.
It's been a week or two since the ice in my lungs began to thaw, since I woke up in the morning not dreading the day ahead. And what's changed? Well. Quite a lot, actually.
I've taken many steps towards many things that will be healthier for me, including an entirely new work environment that offers much more balance and routine. My obsession and anxiety over money is dwindling, although I'm gonna be taking that mess to my therapist. Ah yes! I'm going back to therapy. S and I have made a pact to try and clean up our diet after an indulgent Summer. My metaphorical plate has emptied as I give myself permission to scale back on plans and spend the time alone instead. I'm creating more than I have all year. My health and happiness are my main priority and I'm getting real about what actually elevates and depletes them both.
There's still a lot I don't know. (Like what will fulfill me in life and how I find that out.) (Or how much I can sacrifice for a house deposit without restricting to the point of unhappiness.) But I think making my health and happiness important today will help me figure those things out tomorrow, and all the days beyond. Right?
How do you deal with change?
