19. Tug of war
We have now made the return journey (the other journey) and I am still in transition. And I am realising that in the wheel of change there is an inevitable tug of war that drags me from chaos to order and then again from order to a new chaos. Like a spring that zig zags in an endless trajectory. Without control, but aware. A tug of war that makes me feel like each change I make can affect the next one, and in that possibility of impact, I feel that the previous change runs the risk of fading. It’s like if you make one step forward, sometimes that means you have to take a few steps backwards. A dance.
Since the operation I have been introducing lots of positive changes in my life. Fairly big changes, important, pinpointed, that made me feel like I was going in the right direction at a good pace (a new stage). Within this journey, which has been the biggest move of our lives, all of these changes remain in a box that I have brought with me but not opened. A marvellous box of resources and knowledge.
In the tug of war of this new start, I’m not eating what feels right for me, and I also see myself comfort eating. I am drinking more than my liver can manage and still be able to detoxify my hormones (what we eat). I go to bed later and I am sleeping less. I’m not doing the exercise sessions that I used to do. My period came, and despite using a menstrual cup for almost a year, I have been using tampons. I feel I am letting myself be swept along by the new circumstances. I also feel as if there are higher priorities, which means that before I can do things right again, I need to first organise other aspects of this new life. I have other boxes to unpack before being able to open my marvellous box of change.
I trust that the balance will return, but sometimes I lose hope and I end up feeling guilty for not prioritising my female self. And even the blog, I have left a month before posting the next entry and even giving myself all of this time, I have had to postpone it. This new time is different, it passes more quickly, and I think it passes more quickly because I feel more attentive, more present. Despite everything, I trust that everything will have its own time and its own new space. The greatest advantage I feel in this whole process is awareness. I am very aware of what is happening, and therefore, even being annoyed with myself for this lack of routine for self-care, I feel like I am at peace. As if I had accepted that this is also part of the process, part of the new change. Taking more notice makes me rationalise things too. And between accepting and rationalising I continue finding the self-love that rescues me from the guilt, annoyance, and hopelessness.
That love, accepting and empathising with myself in these times of adaptation to a new life, is helping me a lot. As Marym says (from rebellious to free: Marym), experience gives you the ability to be flexible. After so many moves and changes of country, after realising the damage I am capable of doing when I don’t know how to listen to myself, I think that now I have to take advantage of that experience to be more flexible than ever. But of course, without losing the path. I want to do this dance knowing that I am dancing and that at some point the music will stop, or change. This is just a stage of the journey, and the time will come to open the box and dust off those resources to put them in place again.
Of course, new things are also happening. I wonder if this tug of war isn’t yet allowing me to recover the past balance but is instead giving me new elements for a future balance. New things that somehow contribute to the peace that I feel when I let myself be led by what is happening.
The change of environment now allows me to feel more connected with the elements on this beautiful island. Almost every day I enjoy the sun and its energy, which relaxes and recharges me at the same time. I walk barefoot on firm ground, and I feel the cool under my feet. Doing grounding in my previous life wasn’t this easy. One day, in the future, when I am prepared, I will talk more about this topic and the benefits it has for hormones. We are also walking a lot, without a routine and more for necessity than out of pleasure, but I feel at least I am compensating for the lack of exercise. I also have the sea nearby and we have already been to see it a few times. I think it was one of the things I missed most when I didn’t live here. Hearing, smelling and feeling the ocean. Its calm and its anger. Its salt and its freshness. Its blue colour, dark and bright. Zig-zag. A dance.
From past experience, I have learnt that you need a year to feel established in a new place. You need time to close the cycle to understand how everything works. I wonder how I am going to feel in a year’s time, after that first cycle of adaptation. I think going back to my roots and it being a place that I know sometimes tricks me in my perception of the newness of the life I’m living. I know the place, but the place has changed, and above all, I have changed. I feel full of enthusiasm for the future and this new life project we are putting our faith in. And grateful for this complete awareness that accompanies me. I don’t know what would become of me right now without it.