It’s A Choice

Damn straight it is. Even without context, I can hear some “Amen’s,” on the other end.

I turned on the main drag in my modestly populated Colorado town a few hours ago, en route to my fave coffee shop, and was met by a group of poster toting, sign holding individuals. “It’s a Choice” was one of the posters. This felt confusing followed by a slew of Pro Life posters.

Pro Life has always confounded me as a slogan for an anti-abortion stance.

Take a moment to Google the definition of “life.” It is vast and broad and rife with debate. I’m not looking to debate. Just share. Life from my vantage point; it’s life in the womb, it’s the woman barring the baby, the man who aided in the procreation. It’s the budding tree, the chirping birds, the sun and stars. The autistic children I worked with in Cambodia, the low income neighbors we all have, the 1 percenters.

I couldn’t agree more with that sign. It’s absolutely a choice. The choice to choose to have sex, to bare a child, to have an abortion, to adopt. To prioritize your mental health, to consider the fullness of your life, your physical wellbeing, what you’d be bringing this child into and it’s wellbeing on all fronts.

It is ALL a choice.

Merriam-Webster writes, “choice suggests the opportunity or privilege of choosing freely.” This is an autonomous act. Sure, get the information, ask experts, seek advice and support. And, ultimately, it is YOUR choice.

So, thank you group of walkers reminding us today that, yes, indeed, it is a choice.

Without Appearance

It’s done. Well, almost.

Affidavit for Decree without Appearance. That’s it’s formal name. The last form I had to file with the courts. My marriage is, and has been, but now officially is, over.

A mix of emotions is the slop I’ve been swimming in for the past few months. I mean, not that the last few years haven’t been a giant cess pool of emotions, but for sake of simplicity and knowing that there are more posts to come to address said emotions, I will limit to the previous past few moons.

There has been nothing “simple” about the emotional process of this. I was the vocal, moving force in this decision to divorce. Does this mean that I’ve been in bliss and joy the whole time? Not even a little bit. Sure, I know this is the right path, I know that this path saved my life, my spirit, my soul, my body. And, it’s been a tidal wave. And not just one big one that slaps you with momentum, leaving your bikini to abandon it’s true occupation and you looking like a birthed seal looking for land. Multiple.

Today is a deep, fairly calm pool of sadness. Sadness over the loss of something that was once the thing that gave me buoyancy and life. Sadness for what was unactualized. Sadness for a great Love that died over the years and left me to imagine its existence.

The turning of a tide starts today. I’m a big advocate of marking spaces in time. Celebrating the small things and large things. The tide is heading back out to sea today. Moving into the spaciousness and vastness of the ocean.

I want to find starfish and see coral reefs and play with sea turtles and touch a sea cucumber.

I’m headed out to sea.

You do you, girlfriend.

I’ve fallen in love. With mountain biking. For some, that may sound like a badass endeavor, to others, no big thang. It’s a source of challenge and calm and meditation and adventure for me. It serves not only my body to “send it” but also my brain happens to be a much less scary place post ride.

I just got back to home base after spending the weekend at Phil’s World outside of Cortez, CO. It was 12 Hours of Mesa Verde this Mother’s Day weekend, a 12 hour race where you (or your team of 2, 3 or 4) see how many 17 mile laps you can pound out within the allotted time. This was my first ever race I attempted 3 years ago and holds a special place in my heart.

And folks, I crushed it. Goals for race day: #1: Have fun. Check. #2: Keep ‘er between the ditches. Mostly. Check. #3: Beat my PR from last year, 1hr 49min. CHECK! I killed it. I even had a “gentle endo” and still crossed the threshold at 1hr 42min!!

The real win for me is feeling my body and confidence soar as I continue biking. Honestly, one could swap out biking for anything really. It’s the witnessing myself becoming, molding my craft, in a state of growth. I’m now 41 and feel like a fine wine, just getting better and more complex and refined with age. It’s an amazing thing, the ability we have to grow and to witness that change.

I’m taking a breathe in of self acceptance and joy this morning. Feels good to be.

Another joy of the race was the camaraderie of those on the trail. Any time I passed someone on the trail who was pulled over I always asked if they needed anything (as I would hope people would do for me!). One younger girl responded while catching her breath, “I’m just slow!” Without hesitation, I replied, “You do you, girlfriend.” That is pretty much the equivalent of what what said to me by the mutants who passed me. Literally. Loved it.

Slow, fast, stopped, moving; We were all doing the thing. Pushing ourselves willingly to sharpen our skills, be better, do hard things.

Having these collective, shared experiences is a gift.

Brainstorm. Free Write

Littleness. Little things. These are the moments that form us. The small, non-descript moments, the nuances that lead us to the next and the next and the next moment.

Here’s a topic. The little things, managing anxiety. Tackling the little things. Allowing those pesky voicemails or texts to pile up. Why do I put those off. I know it adds to my general internal clutter. Sooo, working on just doing it with the knowing that I feel SO much lighter on the the other side of those lingering communications.

And, get on that bike or do some squats. Preferably bike, followed my Zumba. Me and movement: a powerful duo. Love that and can at the same time easily forget the power of movement. And, yes, this is for the bod. Love a good sweat. But the brain needs a good sweat-fest too. I’m a much better version of myself when I’ve gotten movement. Everything is better.

Simmering life down to it’s core essentials. Relationships with people and beings I value and feeling purpose in life. And feeling empowered and rooted in my own being.

I’m so into minimizing presently. It feels SO deeply good to pare down my belongings and to be clear about what I want in my space. Not accepting everything that’s given to me. Not stepping into a thrift store as I drop off a load of things to donate. Knowing that the memories exist without the items. And, that items aren’t bad, but to allow myself to navigate sentimental items and to not feel this pressure to hold onto things because they are passed down or heirloom.

I want to maintain my voice in this blog. Write as if friends are reading this. Honestly, I’m inviting people to be my friend as they navigate my blog. I want this to be personal. Relatable is being personal, vulnerable. My biggest road block is going to be me (Road Blog, typo to Road Block. Could be a good blog title!) I have now and have for some time this, maybe imposters syndrome is the coined term, but this consistent thought of, “what do I have to offer to people that’s worth hearing, that’s unique?” Even in writing that I can feel by body slump and a sadness wring through me. That’s been a block for me with social media stuff, “why would people want to care what I’m up to?” What’s the point? Peacocking? Needing validation? Sharing just to share? Is it truly connective? Can it be for some and not others?

HSP. How I feel into this world with SO MANY FEELS. My actual sense of smell and taste are more acute than most. At least my husbands. I’ve gone through much of my lifetime feeling like I’m too much or odd or, yep, crazy. Honestly, truly, feeling like I’m this odd ball that doesn’t quite fit into pinball machine called Life.

This is great, Suz. These are topics that are true to myself and open to others coming along. I love you Susie.