This has been a supremely weird summer for me. I’ve been laid up since the beginning of July with the flu and other very odd, very scary maladies (I’m fine) and have spent the last two full weeks just trying to catch my breath and let my body recover. I was finally able to resurrect my yoga practice this past week after months of hiatus due to some deep soul wounds that resulted from the dissolution of some dear relationships that just so happened to have a mutual love for yoga woven into their fabric.
I’ve learned a lot about relationships this year/summer; ways to end them, ways to salvage them, how to give grace, how to see from another’s perspective, how to listen, how to speak up. I’ve learned that nothing is formulaic when it comes to loving people, because each person and relationship needs to be nourished differently. I have learned the importance of mindfulness and of keeping my mind open and to consider the perspective of another. I have learned that it is equally important to draw a hard line when it comes to abuse, right and wrong, using my voice, and nazis.
I just yesterday finished reading of Mess and Moxie by Jen Hatmaker. It is easily my favorite book of hers since Interrupted. I was encouraged in and laughed my way through pretty much every aspect of myself that I struggle with on an hourly basis. Motherhood, womanhood, loving God, loving Jesus, church, standing firm in my sacred and holy convictions, food, wine, my boobs, exercise and friendships. Read it, you’ll love it.
I’ve spent this summer deeply nourishing my relationship with Netflix and all the gems it had to offer, including Ozark, GLOW, and Wet Hot American Summer: Ten Years Later. My tastes are varied and impeccable. (I also watched one and a half seasons of Jane the Virgin but for the love of sex, I have run out of patience for that show and its 18 hours of footage per season) I have experimented with new recipes (grilled chicken enchiladas with masa sour cream sauce, lavender nutmeg rolls with cream cheese glaze) and spent more time in my kitchen, which always does well for my creative soul. Plus, there’s wine there.
I still have not successfully potty trained Nora. My two and a half year old has bested me. Her go-stinky-on-the-toilet treats of chocolate covered almonds belong to me now. Some days we spend exploring the depths of our creative souls with watercolor paints, crayons and chalk drawings, learning colors and writing the alphabet and counting to twenty. Other days she’s on the line with Sesame Street for four hours so I can drink my ever loving one cup of coffee re-heated seventeen times and read my books (scroll Instagram).
I DID get myself completely off of my anti depressants this summer, which was a huge deal for me. Let me please say that I am and always will be 100% in favor of medication because when it works, it is literally a lifesaver. It just wasn’t working for me, and quitting was the right choice for me. I did quit cold turkey, which I feel obligated to tell you is almost never recommended and most doctors will tell you to slowly wean. Well, I know my body pretty well and weaning wasn’t going to cut it. I got really lucky and experienced virtually no withdrawal symptoms. (Woo-hoo!) I still take medication for anxiety and I’m good with that. I take a lot of natural supplements and I drink ACV every morning, so I’m feeling pretty well balanced in that area.
Again I say, this has been one of the weirder summers I can remember in the last several years of my adulthood. Not the best, not the worst. All in all, just weird. I’m grateful for the lessons learned and the wounds mended, for the friends who text daily and the ones who call yearly. I’m grateful for the home date nights and and the family outings. But I’ll never be sad to say goodbye to a summer.
Fall, I’ve been waiting a whole year for your sweet return. COME TO MAMA.