I’m walking my daughter up the hill to school and a lady floats down the sidewalk toward us like she is the Queen of Sheba.She might’ve tried to float right through us if I hadn’t moved around her. ‘Dear people who think they own the sidewalk; you DON’T own the fucking sidewalk!’, I rant inside my head. I decide this would be a good Facebook status update, written just as I did here. I change my mind, no need to spread my negative vibes through social media. Also, I often find myself narrating my life in the form of what might be a Facebook status update, and that’s messed up. Besides, now I have a blog where I can put this stuff.
The contributors to this gloomy state of mind are
- My body is sore all over, I’ve had a persistent headache for the last couple of days due to a pinched nerve between my shoulder blades, which is how my stress tends to present itself. The source of the stress being my daughter’s appalling behaviour at her birthday party this past Saturday.
- Maybe a bit of iron deficiency which I have struggled with for the past nine years.
- Money worries. I have $18 to get me through to the end of the month.
- Unemployment. ‘Nough said, (working on that too.)
- The weather is grey and bleak, and my mood tends to reflect what the sky is doing.
- My heart hurts.
With these factors taking place, it simply means it is that much harder to get motivated to do anything. And this is still not depression, I know that. It is everything I have mentioned so far. But just like when depression comes to visit, (only maybe a little less tedious), I must find my own drive within to take this walk.
When I get home I have options. I can pop an Advil and get into bed to read. I did this yesterday in fact, though a little later in the day. I think I made it through half a sentence before slipping into unconsciousness. I awoke to the sound of knocking on the door, uncertain as to who it could be. Then, in a post-nap, foggy state, I opened it to reveal my daughter standing there, returned from school. I felt a little sick about having wasted a good chunk of a day. Perhaps I just needed to recover from the traumatic events of the weekend. Though I regained a bit of energy, I still felt pretty crappy.
I opt to do one thing at home and head right back out the door. Immediately in making this decision my thoughts are beginning to reel productively. I am having ideas, I am starting to write this post.
So I walk. It is not a long walk. I head toward the lake shore and walk a short path along it. Then I head uphill and into a little patch of forest where I pause briefly on a bench, looking out upon the bay. I loop back on a higher path home.
This is what occurs on my walk, through my connection to nature
- My body starts to loosen up. I feel my headache subsiding.
- I start to work out my frustrated thoughts and feelings in regards to my daughter’s recent behaviour. But then my body is tensing up again so I put that particular problem on the shelf until later.
- I miss him. I allow myself to reminisce a little, but mostly get in touch with emotions regarding a 7 year relationship I somehow let collapse entirely. It’s been over months now that I let my tears of grief trickle out, when I actually take a moment to address that I am still hurting over it. The important part is that I do recognize this and allow myself to cry. It is a natural course to healing.
- I am getting fresh air, physical activity and exposure to daylight, (even if it is overcast). All of these things are good for us whether we realize it at the time or not.
- Nature and wildlife calm me. I observe the waterfowl a bit, notice the thin layer of snow atop the fallen leaves. I am being mindful of the change of season, and how it can still be so nice and rejuvenating even when it is not the most enticing weather to be out in.
And I have this thought:
You know when you see those old couples walking along hand in hand? And that is what they are doing, for the sole purpose of being out on a walk together? I saw some of these couples while out on my little adventure. They nodded at me amicably and said, “good morning”. And what a beautiful, consoling thing to witness. Let’s remember to walk.