In two weeks I will cross over to the second half of my thirties, on the slippery slope to that next number. Thinking too much or too little. Knowing exactly what I really need to do and delving into myself to try and understand how exactly I am holding myself back in getting there. Something pushed me out then another pulled me back in. I hid inside my pain and doubted my abilities to create a form that better fit me.
Last night I watched my dog and I wept. Her habits are changing, she is losing the battle. When I catch her eye, she feels responsible for me, to look after me, and so she stays. I am so angry that our time on earth together is limited, and it stretches my memories back to the crevices of my former life. Those chapters that make my heart tremble to revisit.
So this afternoon I give back. Our town has recently opened its first pet food bank, so I am spending a portion of my day spending time helping them get organized. My girl came from a shelter, saved from death row, and within a year went from grumpy and unsocialized to happy and outgoing. Remembering how she went from cowering behind my legs at the beach to rambunctiously chasing the ball into the surf, it helps me breathe.
In this life there are things I need to do, things I want to do, things I yearn for. Tie it all together and you have a volume of stories from the past that can be used in any number of ways to figure out that new path, resolve that pressing dilemma, encourage your evolution. So, here I go.