Eat, Read, Sleep

Like most women, I enjoyed the book Eat, Pray, Love and I’m looking forward to the movie. But I haven’t had the time to see it yet and that’s the irony. It’s a book about taking a year away from the everyday things that cloud your vision in order to see yourself and the world in a better light, and I can’t even find two hours to watch the abridged version. Meanwhile, I’m reading blogs and tweets about people who gave up their lives sitting at a desk all day and moved to another country to chop vegetables and gather life stories all while they re-assess their own. It seems everywhere you look people are changing the course of their lives to forge a new road. If you can do this, and want to do this, then by all means do it. If you have the money, the time and the freedom from family obligations, then pick up now and go. Living abroad for a year gave me some of the best memories, and the greatest husband, but that was before I really needed it, when I could actually do it.
Now I’m a bit more confined, thanks mostly to rising medical bills and decreasing pay. But there is also something else that is keeping me on my current path, and that’s ambition; something that has become a dirty word, or at least a throwback to the 80’s. Not wanting to be anything close to retro though, I still want to succeed, not by anyone else’s standards, but by my own. It’s why I keep working, why I keep writing and why I keep trying. The path I’ve chosen is not easy and sometimes I do forget that it’s all about the journey, not the destination. But then I take a few days for the beach, not on the south of France, just plain old New Jersey, and I remember to appreciate the simple things, even if the water isn’t as blue as it was in Greece.
I spent a few days at the beach and I did nothing but Eat, Read and Sleep. There was a bit of walking too, but it was only to get to the destination where I would have dinner, read my book or go to bed. Those few days at that beach were filled with the freedom to do whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted. There was also no pressure to actually do anything except stare at the ocean and decide which of the two restaurants on the boardwalk I would visit to enjoy their gluten-free goodness. Despite a mild case of sunburn (I had sunscreen on, I swear!), I felt relaxed and, even though I could still fall asleep within a minute of closing my eyes, I felt rested and, more importantly, I felt inspired to go back to my desk job and keep pushing forward toward the things I desire, celebrating the small achievements and happy moments along the way.
I love to travel, meet new people and experience new things, and I take the opportunity whenever I can, but those moments aren’t the journey, they’re the destinations. Everyday, caring for your family, caring for yourself and working towards your dreams is the journey. You can lose your inspiration from time to time, but I believe you don’t always need a passport to find it, sometimes it just takes something a little closer to home; perhaps even a movie ticket and cutting out of work two hours early.

Pausing in Order to Get There

I’m not usually the jealous sort. I know too well that anyone who looks as though they have it all are often being torn in two by something you would never suspect. Just check out Perez Hilton when you’re bored at work to confirm this theory. I’m more the cheerleader, believing that karmically (I think I either just invented a word or am a horrible misspeller. Both are highly possible), you deserve this reward. I really do get happy for others, or at least I used to. Now I act the same, big hugs, long talks and an offer to partake in the celebration; whether it’s a girl’s night out to celebrate a raise or helping someone to pack up their things to move to their dream home. But I don’t get happy for them. In fact, I’ve started getting bitter. I don’t hold it against the rewardee, but I still feel, well, jealous.
When you put every last bit of energy into something and you get nothing back, or worse, the situation deteriorates even further, it’s hard to find happiness in someone’s progress. Don’t get me wrong, I wish no one ill will (except maybe Mel Gibson), I just want to be a part of the I-have-something-to-be-really-happy-about club.
I’m at a wall here, trying desperately to figure out what I can try next. How can I push myself forward? Stop stressing, sleep more, chow down on some probiotics… The list is shorter now, but there is always some suggestion, some research. Dr. Oz says try some feverfew, mom says quit your job, and that one friend insists that a good bottle of red wine can cure anything or at least make you feel cured for a few hours.
But what if I just sit here on this wall? Leave it alone and snuggle into the pause button for a while?
I gave it a run through over the weekend. I didn’t count nutrients, I didn’t apply lotions and tonics, I didn’t plan out each meal but ate when I was hungry and what I craved. (Not surprisingly I craved a lot of chocolate). I didn’t go crazy, the way a dieting bride might after the wedding, but I did have my fair share of Wegman’s gluten-free chocolate ice cream… and there might have been a Van's gluten-free waffle involved. It went against all the plans and lists.
I wish I could say that I feel a little better but I don’t. The important thing is, I don’t feel worse. And maybe, for right now, that will have to do. Perhaps I just have to leave my body alone, take care of it of course, but not try to force it into anything either. Instead of insisting that it listen to me, I have to sit back and wait for it to start talking to me. Figuratively of course - if I start hearing voices I’m going back to the vitamins or maybe that’s when I’ll pick up the red wine.
In the meantime I’ll focus on what makes me happy, even if it is a bit of a struggle. Right now, the one thing I have is writing. As I redirect all my ‘getting better’ energy towards solving my character’s pain I can see clearly their way out, but for the sake of the plot it will get darker before it gets brighter. And maybe that’s true for me too, not for the sake of the plot but for the sake of who I am; which is not a bitter person.