In transition

This afternoon, I woke up from my nap to the sound of rain.  Monsoons in New Mexico have a certain scent – water mixed with the dust of the desert – and it takes me back to my childhood, to my young adulthood.  It also brings me, at moments, crashing into the present.  What am I doing?  Where am I going?  What is my purpose? Is it possible for me to just be here, and not feed my depression with these thoughts?

In a matter of weeks, I have moved from San Diego, California, back to Albuquerque, New Mexico.  One could say that I fell apart there, doing too much and allowing my seams to be pulled apart.  I’m sure that I’ll have more perspective about what happened in six months or so.  Right now, six months feels so far away, like time is a weight that I can’t quite see or get through.  Each day can feel like a weight, a struggle, a fight.  About a year ago, a mentor asked me if I was willing to let go, and I ran into the ocean with such abandon.

And now?  I am seven months post-surgery for what turned out to be a borderline ovarian tumor.  I am still seeking for the deeper reasons behind this experience.  I have done a lot of personal growth work, but I had no way of anticipating how much this surgery would affect me.  I never really thought about what losing a literal part of me might feel or look like.  There was grief, fear, and so much more.  There is still so much more.  I didn’t slow down enough post-surgery.  I kept going, and pushed myself behind my limits.  Until I had to stop.  So, here I am.  Slowing down.  Finding small joys, like Nia and the beautiful landscape.  Finding my roots again so I can hear myself once again.

I don’t know if writing will be cathartic or helpful or just another space in which I try to tie it up into a little bow or try to smooth out the wrinkles.  I’ll just put it out there – I feel messy.  I feel messy, sad, and exhausted; grateful and relieved.

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