Relaxation Hard Fought

We spent the past two weeks in one of our very favorite places, Colima, Mexico. This was our time to connect to each other and to the folks we love so very much here. It was marvelous. We were filled with the love and sunshine and good food and big smiles that Mexico always has ready for us. 

It was a tough trip, too. Steve had been away from home for most of the preceding month, working basically nonstop at the Sundance Film Festival. I tore my ACL and was hurting physically and emotionally. And right at the start of the trip, my dad was in a brutal car accident, so we were torn between coordinating what we could, caring from afar, and figuring out if we should just head home. We knew we needed this time to connect with ourselves and each other... yet it was so hard to relax into it.

Long story short, our kids really rallied around my parents, and my parents used their family and community well in this time of need (keep it coming, this is going to be a long road). We were able to stay for the scheduled duration of our trip. We checked in a lot, and our hearts were always a little bit in Utah, and we were still able to devote a lot of time and attention to rest and connection. It was hard-fought. The past two weeks have been hard-fought for each member of my family in their own way. And I'm so glad we made it happen.

Highlights:

1. Hiking to and into a cave with a torn ACL (not necessarily recommended, but it's a memory!)
   
   
   
2. Finally getting to see the dancing horses, the cabalgato (the Colima horse festival), and La Petatera, the world's largest handicraft (they put up the bull-riding stands every year, and apparently it counts as a handicraft!).
   
   
   
3. Taking the train to the town of Tequila. This has been on our list for so long, and the whole experience delighted us at every turn
   
   
   
4. Meeting new friends in Guadalajara and going to Rodo Padilla's gallery in Tlaquepaque. For years, all we've seen of Tlaquepaque was the bus station 😂 and we loved experiencing more of this part of Guadalajara.
   
   
   
5. Chill time together. It's a delight to remember yet again how much we enjoy exploring the world together.
   
   
   

A Test of Integration

Last week, I shared a little about the doldrums and the dance between listening to our body's messages and changing our situations. This week, we're going to talk about integration. Integration is the art of holding the "good" and the "bad." That is, not sinking into misery forever and ever and denying that there is any good, and also not constantly looking for silver linings and ignoring the very real pain. Healthy adulthood is often a quest for integration: letting both the good and the bad be true, all at the same time. 

In an effort to feel better last week and escape grey, low-snow Utah, I enlisted the help of a delightfully flexible and adventurous friend, and we ran away to the north, where they actually have snow. The snow was cold and fast, and halfway through the day, I got unlucky and fell wrong and... ugh... an opportunity to grow in integration. As a true-blue optimist, I tried to ski it down, and when it was (painfully) clear that was idiocy, I allowed the friendly Jackson Hole ski patrol to assist. 

So now I'm home, nursing a sad knee, waiting for my MRI appointment to figure out next steps, and practicing integration. I am sad and frustrated. I am grateful it wasn't worse and glad that I got injured in a crappy snow year. I am hopeful that the good ol' knee just needs time and rest. I'm reconciled to the fact that if more medical intervention is required, I'll cross that bridge. I'm just practicing feeling it all and letting it all be true (because it is). It's lame, and it's ok.

Sigh and double sigh. 

Doldrums

Sigh. It finally hit. The doldrums. No wind in my sails, no snow under my feet. I'm a little bit sad and lonely. Some of this definitely has to do with the weather. We have had a wildly low snow season, and when you organize your life around skiing more, having to work hard to find snow is a bummer. Some of it is the come-down from a very busy December, plus a quiet house since my husband has been traveling for work all month. Some of it is deep sadness over the state of the U.S. Some is a natural response to the hunker-down nature of winter. Combine it all, and I'm a little bit in the doldrums. 

Ok, so I've done the most challenging part for me - recognizing how I feel. Now comes the second hardest part - what's my response? 

Option 1 is to follow my body's cues. I have space and time to be a little slow and lethargic. I know (in my head) that I can trust what my body is telling me. It's ok - nay, it's healthy - to be stationary sometimes, and it's fine to feel a little low. 

Option 2 is to use some grit and some motivation to get myself up and doing things that I know will probably feel good. This requires a little "digging deep" to get the ball rolling. I also want to stay sensitive to how my body and emotions are responding, and if it's just not working, and I would have to really strive to stay moving, it's time to fall back to Option 1.

This is the work of integration. It's listening to my body and emotions, evaluating what I want, and staying sensitive to how I respond as I take my next steps. I've spent a lot of my life simply not listening to these inconvenient emotions - when you have little kids and are working full-time to support your family, it doesn't really matter if you feel a little low, you just have to keep going. I've made it through that chapter of life, and now I get to pause and listen with more gentleness to the voices inside of me. Slowing down runs counter to how I've trained my brain to respond to challenge, and it's a good skill for me to focus on in this season.