I made myself a little crazy on Friday racing around trying to finish all those tasks that come with starting over—unpack, organize, get groceries, and figure out where the heck I am. I’ve done this many times before. All of a sudden I’m looking for things I used to have, things that cost more to move than they do to buy new – a colander, a roll of tape, furniture – and I’m faced with the task of re-acquiring.
A trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond always brings out my reflective side. Maybe it’s all those colorful kitchen gadgets that I never knew I needed. (An avocado dicer? How have I lived without THAT for so long?) My recent trip there was no exception. Suddenly, the weight of starting over, again, hit me hard. It quickly passed but having it at all left me a little shaken.
I focused on my breath. I put one foot in front of the other as I weaved my cart through the aisles. The tightness in my chest gave way to something like freedom mixed with curiosity and a dash of confusion. How did I get here? And how do I get there, to that place where I feel settled and stable again?
Breathing, walking. That’s all I needed. It’s usually all I ever need to get through any flavor of fear. Starting over is a process that takes time. I can’t get it all done today, but someday soon I’ll look back for a moment and say, “Wow. I did that. I made this life and I love it.” And that shining moment that I know is on the way keeps me going; it helps me enjoy the journey.