uncomfortable

In many ways I'm a creature of habit. I can happily listen to the same music, eat the same types of food, watch the same formulaic TV shows (Drag Race you're my happy place). I'm cool with being content. It's not that I don't do a lot—I excel at busy—but it's often busy without growth. It's been awhile since I pushed myself past my comfort zone and put myself out there. 

But lately the universe has pushed me into uncharted territory. The death of a dear friend. Losing my beloved mom. Kids now far away and figuring out how being a mom works in this different reality. A thriving business that Covid slowed and I haven't figured out how to bring it back yet. High blood pressure and daily medication. The loss of so many friends now that I'm not at protests all the time and figuring out how to find my people. 

Life. 

But there have been baby steps along the way as I tiptoe into places I haven't been before and revisit ones I left behind ages ago. I'm pushing myself when working out instead of going through the motions. I'm painting needlepoint canvasses, which is extraordinarily stressful and I avoid it at all costs for as long as I can but it keeps calling me back. I started writing again after years of trying and giving up quickly (this is only day 4 but at least I'm still here). I'm back in therapy after a 25 years hiatus and already it's serving me better than it did in the past. I'm meditating for real instead of sitting and scrolling through my phone. I'm often uncomfortable, the opposite of complacent which I so often have been. 

Loss. Change. Growth. Discomfort. Challenges. Frustration. Heartache. Joy. That's the cycle these days and I'm working on being present in it instead of pretending it's not happening.