Springtime has presented itself and I've found myself with nothing to wear. And while that realization can hardly be classified as an epiphany, it got me thinking about them. I have epiphanies in all kinds of situations, even in restaurant bathrooms. When I return to the table Shawn usually asks, "Have any epiphanies while you were gone?" I'm not sure what's so effective about the back of the stall door, but perhaps it's the simple act of walking away from a conversation that leads me to clarity. In this particular case, the lack of clothing did not lead me to a higher level of self-awareness. It led me to Kohl's. A new store has opened up near our house and I decided to try it out. I also had to decide whether I wanted to channel the style of Vera Wang, Jennifer Lopez, Daisy Fuentes or the models in Elle magazine. I opted for Vera and Elle and headed to the dressing room.
A 7-week-postpartum woman has no business in front of full length mirrors under the glare of florescent lights. But there I was, coming to this conclusion: buying bigger sizes of normal clothes is not the answer to the way my body is shaped right now. I left and retreated to the maternity store.
The trip to Motherhood produced exactly one outfit that stretched in all the right places and a curious stare from a pregnant woman who saw Cate in the stroller and wondered aloud how I could be pregnant again. Um, no. No and no. Please don't misread this paragraph and start spreading that rumor.
There is nothing confidence boosting about buying maternity clothes after you've had a baby. So I decided to continue with the beat down. I went to Target and bought this:
I'm so sore right now I can barely sit down. The workout is about 25 minutes long and progresses in intensity over a 4-week-period. After I completed the first workout, I felt good. All sweaty and accomplished. And then it hit me: I have to do this again tomorrow.
That's the same thing that happened to Dillon when he started kindergarten. At the end of that first day, he was all "I rock kindergarten" and then cried when he realized kindergarten wasn't a one day event. He had to go back the next day and do it all over again.
That's how many blog posts I wrote in a new way before I woke up feeling panicky. You mean I have to keep doing this?
And then I remembered the epiphany I had a little more than a decade ago. I was standing on a rooftop overlooking a big city when I realized there was more to life than the stressful ladder-climbing one I'd been living. When I realized what I wanted more than anything was the freedom I felt standing on that roof.
The epiphany was eye-opening and convincing. Taking a leap of faith was, indeed, freeing. But the transition was tough.
So perhaps this post is just a way to clarify to you and within myself what's going on here. Weeks ago, I had an epiphany to begin weaving in scenes and themes from that defining moment in my life, and to do it right now, while I'm going through yet another life transition. When I start to second guess and convince myself it's a stupid idea that will lead absolutely nowhere, maybe I'll hear Jillian reminding me that it's not about doing it perfectly. In fact, her exact words were "perfect sucks".
If you're in transition, too, I'm here to remind you, and myself, that we don't get to duck behind the curtain or start spinning like a tornado and emerge a superhero. We have to do the work of putting one foot in front of the other and trust where those steps are leading. When I feel lost, I go back to the epiphany. To the moment of decision. That's where I'm able to rest, center and reconnect.
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