The Small Stuff (and I’m Not Sweating)

Now that the move is complete, Brock and I have been able to shift our focus to wedding-related matters. We’ve been following up with people who haven’t RSVPed to the e-vite (maybe I should send them a GIF of a self addressed stamped envelope?:) ). I’ve been building a list of dog-friendly and vegetarian-friendly eateries in the Smokies (for some reason, this seems to be a rather short list – Asheville, please spread your influence!). I’ve made an appointment to have my hair done (even though salons are a source of strange anxiety for me) and I’ve placed the order for some Maryland crab cakes to be delivered to the cabin to surprise Brock on the eve of our wedding.

(I made crab cakes for him one year for his birthday. After nearly passing out from having my meat-phobic hands wrist deep in fish flesh, I opted for the mail order, pre-formed option. Worth every penny!).

Somehow, I managed to keep track of all the wedding related goods during the move and they now sit waiting patiently in a closet: my dress, shoes, borrowed jewelry, wedding rings and a choice of three bow ties for Tiger. Soon, they will be joined by hiking boots and walking sticks as we gather together items for our time in the mountains.

Although I’m not sure how much hiking we’ll get done.

This past Saturday, we enjoyed our first lazy afternoon in I-don’t-know-how-long. We napped (even me!), lazed around on the bed, enjoyed some non-linear, non-goal oriented conversation and topped it off with a great dinner. I know I said exhale last week, but this was the first true exhale. And it was awesome.

And I chose to let it stay awesome even when the small stuff threatened to interrupt.

As we were discussing the details of the wedding party weekend, I realized that I had neglected to order a cake (a simple sheet cake from Publix and a baby “smash cake” from a local gluten free bakery for me – go ahead and laugh at the image of me “eating” a cake like a one year old!). I started to add it to my mental to-do list and then stopped. Looked at the detail. Decided it wasn’t worth it, and dropped it.

There will be no declarations at our celebration of, “Let them eat cake.” If they want cake badly enough, they can walk next door to Publix and get some. As for me, I’d rather spend the time visiting with people I don’t see much than risking hyperglycemia from some heavily sugared concoction.

I used to let details bother me; I sweated the small stuff so much that I could have earned a second degree in Pressure Acquisition and Management.

But not anymore.

It’s like my divorce was one big application of anti-perspirant, putting all of the small stuff in perspective and highlighting its relative unimportance.

And, right now, it’s more important for me to enjoy my new home and husband-to-be, plan great lessons for my kiddos and welcome my favorite season (why, oh why does Starbucks not have a light version of the pumpkin spice latte…I haven’t had one in four years, but I’m not sure I can hold out much longer!) than it is to worry about details like cake.

Although, don’t worry dad, I haven’t forgotten the detail about picking you up from the airport.

Sweat and Tears

Tears for Norway .....

The tears were close to the surface this morning.

Tears of frustration born from his decisions nickel and diming away my future.

Tears of anger at myself for falling for his swindle.

Tears of shame at how I am perceived as I act as the face of his mess

While he continues to run away.

I welcomed the hot breathe of the yoga studio today,

Seeking purification and strength within its walls.

I set my intention, looking for acceptance.

I was told to “let it go,”

But I held on for dear life.

As I pressed into my first down dog,the hot tears formed furrows

In the beads of sweat rolling down my face.

I struggled to keep my breath as the sobs stole the rhythm from my vinyasa,

The body trying to share its wisdom with the mind.

“Feel deeper,” echoed the instructor’s voice as we were bent over in a forward fold,

The tap-tap-tap of sweat hitting the floor telling the tales of the heat.

“You will not be given more than you can bear.”

My hips felt like they were being wrenched apart,

Following in the footsteps of my heart.

“Let it go.”

I breathed into the pain, trying to soften.

“Don’t let the difficulty opening the hips translate to tension in the neck;”

“Don’t let something that is challenging destroy something which is working beautifully.”

Folding into child’s pose, I took a moment and let that soak in.

My current struggle is temporary, my gratitude is not.

“Let it go”

I walked out of the studio, the pouring summer rains,

Washing the sweat and tears from my enlightened body.

Ready to sever the final ugly tie to the past,

Trusting that the price will not be too much to bear.

I am ready

to let it go.

;

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