Today was exactly what I needed. The second day in a row here in St. Louis above 60 degrees. After a stretch of bitter cold for the past 5-6 weeks, obviously this is such a relief to know that spring is probably here - if not right around the corner. I was able to at least write in my journal for 15 minutes this afternoon and finally took my son on a walk at the local park. It's definiately not "beautiful" yet -- everything is still very brown with no promise of the new green peeking through the forests. The ponds still have ice frozen on them and the ground is extremely muddy and gray. BUt it didn't matter at all. Those few moments of reflection, space to think and try to gain a sense of centerness and newness. Spring . . . there's a reason why so many artists and musicians have been so inspired by this special season. New beginnings. Damn. New beginnings doesn't always bring this sweet, beauty of promise. Sometimes new beginnings are raw, gritty, vulnerable and scary.
Following a new year, it always feels like there is such optimistic, so much promise and expectation that this will be the best year of your life. I felt I needed that space to stop and reflect and I did. I realized, quite pessimistically, that last year was not great. Set aside the greatest achievement of my life (which is no small thing whatsoever!), the birth of my son and taking care of him in those precious first months of his life, everything else in my life was full of frustration, hurt and disappointment. I honestly felt realigning my thinking would help position me to embrace this coming year as "different."
Boy was I about to be rocked to my core just days after I thought I had hit some ground! In a matter of 2 weeks, my business aspirations, with one of my good friends that we had been "working on" for over 2 years, completely unraveled before my eyes. And I felt completely out of control the entire time--like I was on some roller-coaster and couldn't get off. My emotions overwhelmed me. It wasn't my decision - nothing had been my decision, I felt it was all her decision and her family's. It was extremely bewildering and I still am working through feeling hurt. But in this process--because it is a process--I am facing some core beliefs and weaknesses about myself that I have either ignored, or been in denial or perhaps did not see. And I am seeing myself face to face.
New beginnings. It sometimes is not pretty at all. Especially when you feel yourself most vulnerable. My husband, we have been together since we were 16 and we are facing another "new beginning" moment in our lives as well. Long talks and discussions between us over weeks and weeks, have peeled back many layers, revealing some truths but mostly shaking questions: are we still supposed to grow together? Is there enough love between us to get past these seemingly great obstacles to see what's more important about our lives? Or is there not? Do we feel like we missed out? Made the right choices? We are so different in our interests, can we grow older together and feel like we are still a part of each other's lives? Are we just together because we now have a son? Did we both "settle?"
Questions, questions, questions. I don't have answers at all right now. And that's ok. Right now, I just have these precious moments with my son to enjoy and a day like this - perhaps not a "perfect" day yet by any means--the breezes are still cool, the sun not warm enough, the scenery not pretty enough, still very much wintery. But the promise is there. I hold to that promise. And hope that I have the courage to become who I very much want to be.