throwing ropes

I had 10 days off of work. Ten. Whole. Days. And it was like I was a different person.

I woke up calm. Even though the days were as busy as any work day, I was calm. I didn't feel like I needed to hurry or rush or moveasfastasishumanlypossible in order to get out the door on time and go do things that other people wanted me to do. I was able to actually enjoy my breakfast instead of shoving it down my throat without tasting a thing, while simultaneously putting on shoes and a coat.

I was happy. And I smiled. Sometimes for no discernible reason. Just because the sun was shining. Or I had time to do the dishes. Or Hubby and I ate dinner together, like a real family, for seven nights in a row. Or Hubby and I had a real, actual converstion, not just a venting session in the 10 minutes of the day that we saw each other. Or I actually had time to watch a movie. Or I actually went to the movies, like at the actual movie theater.

I went to bed relaxed, laying there comfortably, without having to remind myself to un-scrunch my shoulders and un-clench my jaw. And I got in bed at, like, 9:30 instead of trying to force myself into sleeping at 8:00 by counting the minutes until the alarm would be buzzing me awake (that would be 450 minutes if I fall asleep at this exact second, which never actually happens). And I slept until 6:30 in the morning. Or I slept until 7:00 in the morning. Or I just woke up when my body was ready to wake up, never having turned the alarm on at all.

Somehow, there was time to do things I needed to do and things I wanted to do.

I walked though the day without a constant headache, without tensionandstress turning my shoulders into coils of knotted wire, without having to feign happiness or keep up appearances so that no one will know that inside I am sobbing.

Because most days, I have a constant headache, and my shoulders are knotted coils of wire, and I have to feign happiness and keep up appearances so that no one will know that I am sobbing inside. And on more days than I care to think about, I wind up sobbing on the outside, too.

And sometimes it takes ten days away from what life is normally filled with to see just how much you don't like what life is normally filled with; to see just how unhappy your "normal life" is making you.

And that makes me sad, because it wasn't always this way. But I think I'm well past the point that it can ever be any other way.

So.

I find myself in a place I never expected to be, and trying to figure out what is next, and how I get there. Is it even possible to take things that you love to do and turn them into a way to pay the bills? I don't know.

I feel like I've tossed a rope out into the universe. And I'm holding on to one end for dear life. But I don't think it's the end of my rope. More like it's the beginning; and if I can be strong enough, and patient enough, and wise enough to hold on to it and follow it along, I'll wind up where I'm supposed to be.