A blessed week of relative peace. I can’t explain what triggers it, but when it happens, I am grateful.
Last weekend I lived through the yin and yang of emotions all bundled up in a bunch of old record albums.
Saturday, I began to go through our album collection. Mike was nearly always the one to choose the music we listened to at home, so I thought it high time to see for myself what our album cabinet held. I alphabetized them (Mike’s organizational method a mystery to all but himself) and started listening. Funny how old music can bring back the spirit of an era of your life.
In this case it was the pre-kid era. It was fun, and I felt peaceful and happy thinking about the times we had spent together as a couple listening to this music.
My mistake was to think that this was the key to feeling better; reminiscing, hanging at home, etc. When I tried to duplicate the experience on Sunday, all I could feel was despair. Weird.
Happily for me, the winds of fate blew that emotion away by Monday and I experienced a mostly sunny week, with a distinct feeling that I was being helped/aided/cheered on by my dear Michael.
I’m still feeling somewhat that way, but am beginning to feel the clouds of self doubt, loneliness and broken heart drift across the sky of the emotional landscape. The clouds seem to not pay attention to the fact that I’ve exercised, meditated, and had adequate sleep.
They just come and go as they please.