Day of Rest

Bare Aspen trees, Pinagree Park, image by Eric

Bare Aspen trees, Pinagree Park, image by Eric

I get melancholy this time of year, every year. The garden stops producing, the leaves turn color and fall, the days get colder and darker. I love wool socks and hot soup and down blankets and snuggling, but the turn towards winter is bittersweet. Having lived almost 48 years, I have some pretty good evidence that this is a season that will pass like all the others, that spring and summer will come again, that there will be another garden next year, and enough light and warmth that I’ll even start to complain about how hot it is all the time, and yet somehow it feels so final, so sad.

But as life is, it’s a mix of tender and terrible, beautiful and brutal. At the same time I felt sad to see that the aspens at Pinagree Park had already lost all their leaves, I was filled with joy this morning — I took a 3 mile walk, y’all! I’ve been dealing with this foot thing (plantar fasciitis) for about ten months. For the first six, I didn’t realize it was a thing. I blamed my shoes. I blamed sleeping “wrong” on it. I blamed an extra intense yoga practice or not stretching enough or not drinking enough water or sitting too long or standing too much. I even started running again, not realizing it was a real problem. Four weeks into that it was clear it was an actual thing I needed to deal with, that wasn’t going away, and I did some research and realized I was going to need help and rest and time. I’ve been doing physical therapy for almost three months and resting it for close to two, and it’s finally getting better. This morning I decided to see where my edge was, go a little further, see if I could start building my way back up to the six mile morning walk. It was one of the best walks ever. I felt so…normal.

Next week I’m meeting with my therapist for the last time. I’ve been working with her for about 2.5 years. When we started working together, Dexter was dying and I’d just seen a doctor who told me I was obese and tried to put me on a diet (right after I’d told her I had an eating disorder, was over exercising, and suffering ongoing fatigue). I had a mild form of PTSD, wasn’t sleeping very well, dealt with both anxiety and depression regularly, and felt generally miserable. I wanted help, knew that developing my self-compassion practice was the place to start. Since then, my therapist and I have worked through some hard stuff together. I’m stronger and  more sane, better off for my time with her.

And now it’s time to quit. It’s been a few months that I’ve known, but when you have that kind of long term, ongoing, positive support in your life, it’s hard to give up even when you stop needing it. For quite some time, we’ve only been meeting once a month, and the past few times she was functioning more as a business coach than a therapist (another thing she practices), and the last time it was obvious I’d outgrown the need for therapy. I told her it was an odd profession she was in, where the measure of her clients’ success was that they didn’t need her anymore. We are meeting one more time to wrap up, review, say goodbye, have some closure. It feels a bit like when I broke up with my trainer, another moment when I rightly took back my power, was strong enough to take charge, take care of and responsibility for what’s mine, for myself.

And that’s just it, I need to take myself back. This is just one way I’m doing that, but there are lots of other ways too. I’m working to stop looking outside myself for permission, for approval, for direction. I’ve learned that no one needs to tell me what to eat, when or how much. No one gets to tell me how my body should look or how I should move. No one can tell me how to practice or what is true. I don’t need anyone’s advice or agreement. I can ask for help when I need it because I know what I need. I can, but I also don’t have to. Even as I’m connected, part of a larger community, I can take care of myself. I’m not going to let fear of failing stop me from trying. I’m not going to give up.

2 thoughts on “Day of Rest

  1. Dee O'Leary

    Thank you for this Jill, I love reading your writing, I admire your willingness to be so open and vulnerable here, thank you for allowing yourself to be seen in this way ❤

    It's comforting to hear that I'm not alone in my melancholy at the moment! I'm so torn between appreciating the vivid colourful beauty of the trees, and being sad because I know in a month it'll all be gone.I really love Autumn and Spring, but hate winter. The lack of light, the cold, the lost directionless months after Christmas are the worst!

    I ended up writing a mini prayer the other day, a little nudge to myself to not feel too sad about Autumn/Winter because spring will always come again. Hope its ok to share here, reading your blogpost I wanted to gift a bit of that prayer to you. Hope that's ok ❤ xx

    I sit in awe and wonder
    At autumn's golden tones
    The crunchy leaves
    The barren trees
    As nature softly yawns

    Autumn does not fret
    As the leaves begin to fall
    Autumn does not worry
    As it heeds winter's call

    Autumn does not see
    Sadness in falling leaves
    Autumn shows its vibrant colours
    Swirling in the October breeze

    Autumn sees this letting go
    Not as death but as rebirth
    Winter's long hibernation gives
    Time to prepare the earth

    Autumn has a deeper knowing
    That even as the light grows dim
    Autumn has faith in nature's rhythm
    Winter always gives way to spring

    1. jillsalahub Post author

      This is so great, Dee! Thank you for sharing! And it’s so funny…as I was finishing up this post, I kept feeling like it needed a quote or a poem or something, but I couldn’t find anything that seemed right — it much have been waiting for you. ❤


I'd love to hear what you think, kind and gentle reader.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s