Breathe. I keep telling myself that. A few months ago, it came easily, but since I’ve gotten engaged everything has changed.
It wasn’t getting engaged that changed everything per se, it was the cascading life changes and decisions that resulted from it that are now adding up. That, and my Grandma’s passing which, in watching my grandfather cope, has shone a spotlight on what a marriage should be and what it means to love the evolution of someone else – to evolve with them and change in harmonious ways as you both grow with time.
We’re moving home in October when we come back for our wedding. That’s wild. It will have been two years abroad for us, and we said that’s what we planned to do. But, sadly, the thought of leaving challenges me a lot. I really enjoy my job, my progression in yoga, my nearly car-free existence, and the friends we’ve made here in Brisbane. I have finally begun to feel like this foreign land is home to me (at least in small ways), and now we are uprooting ourselves once more. It fills my heart with a mixture of emotions.
But two weeks ago when I jumped on a plane to see my Grandmother and arrived 26 hours later in my hometown just in time to see her before she left us, I realized that the distance from Australia to Wisconsin is massive. And, lives pass quickly in the spaces and distances that I’ve allowed to grow. Since I got back on the plane and left my wounded grandfather at home, I’ve felt every inch of that distance acutely. My heart aches for him constantly.
So, rather than dwell on the hurt of being so far from one I love so much during this painful time, I have thrown myself into work, wedding planning, and coordinating our move home and the subsequent settling (after some months of honeymooning) that we’ll need to do (where that is remains unclear). But all this planning is only to cover a rawness that sits just below the surface. The littlest things have set me off all week; whether it was Rick’s tone of voice, work stress (I’m slammed), or being the eternal subject of twitter jabs from my old boyfriend’s fiancée (an ongoing saga). Things that normally roll off my back or make me chuckle, simply don’t. Try as I may to observe my moods and ride out the waves, I find myself prickly. I’m edgy and sad. I keep waking from dreams of my Grandma, and I realize now that in attempting to be strong for my Grandpa I have bottled up a lot of my own grief. I’m back to crying on the yoga mat.
I’ve been reminding myself to breathe deeply, do yoga, slow down, and come back to my core in order to look outward. I’m hoping this three-day weekend will be just the enforced-pause I need to do that.