i can do this

Lately, I’ve struggled with staying positive in the face of some extremely difficult circumstances. The path before me seems daunting, and I have doubted myself, second-guessed myself, succumbed to panic and despair and loneliness…and somehow climbed back out again, putting one foot in front of the other, grasping the tiniest threads of hope in my determination to move forward—only to sink back into yet another cycle of fear and doubt.

The last few years have been an emotional roller coaster, mostly resulting from my decision (based on strong messages from my intuition) to move to a new city and state, uprooting myself from the known to the unknown, from living in the midst of a community that knew and loved and looked out for me to a community in which I was a stranger, an outsider—a place that still doesn’t feel like home after more than five years.

Lately, there have been mornings when I’ve awakened feeling depressed before I even opened my eyes, and others when I’ve awakened with the cold fingers of panic clawing at my heart. This morning was leaning toward the latter, but this morning I also awakened with the face of my sister’s best friend (and her sister of the heart) floating up in my mind.

Alice had MS, and she lived with it and fought to stay positive in the face of it for many years before it finally resulted in her death. She was an amazing person, even before she became ill, and we all still miss her. I have a photo of the two of us rocking out at my sister’s wedding that I keep tucked in my bedroom mirror to remind me that, no matter how hard things seem, I can do this. Of course, like many of the things with which we live every day, the photo sometimes blends into the landscape and goes unseen, just as our inner strength sometimes gets buried under the day-to-day challenges that at times seem endless in their pursuit of us.

Perhaps Alice knew I needed a boost this morning and paid me the briefest of sleepy-headed visits, just to remind me that I can, in fact, do this—whatever this might happen to be. Stranger things have happened, and I’ve experienced enough of them to know—on a level that’s deeply important—that they’re very true and very real.

So today—in spite of my worries and fears—I will go for a walk, which, at the end, Alice couldn’t do anymore. I will dance with my ballet students.  I will write a grant to help a worthy organization grow and continue to change the lives of children. I will play with my dog and putter in my garden. Because, as Alice has reminded me this morning, I can do this.


21 thoughts on “i can do this

  1. We all do have those moments of self doubt and wondering if our ‘intuition’ is right or not. You seem to be running into road blocks or something perhaps with your dancing or doing what you really want to do…so keep on hoping that things will come together and get better….I guess…dare to believe…just some thoughts….Diane

    • Thanks for your words of encouragement, Diane. I try to remind myself that I’ve made it through other difficult times, and I’ll surely make it through this one…even if I can’t see how at the moment. Viki

  2. I am inspired my your honesty and vulnerability. There is comfort knowing I am not alone in some of these feelings. Thank you.

  3. You CAN do this. You obviously have the strength to be who you want to be and do what you want to do. You’ve proved it already! Some days we can all take a break from being superhuman though. x

    • Thanks so much, Stu. I was saying to a friend yesterday that I tend to present an independent, I-can-handle-this-myself personality to the world, which is hard for me to “take off” even when I want—and need—to. So I do the stiff upper lip thing until I just can’t anymore, and then I crash and burn, my stiff upper lip crumbled all to pieces. Sometimes being strong is admitting that “I can do this, but not right now” or “I can do this, but I need your help”. It’s a lesson I’m still learning. :)

  4. I couldn’t have said it better. I have those moments also, some good days and some not so good; some days filled with light and hope and others anxiety and sadness. I think it’s just all a part of this marvelous journey that we signed up to take. I read the following this morning: “I came to love my life.” I put this on a 3×5 so I can remember it easily.
    I love the picture.

      • I read it in “Old Friends from Far Away, ” a book about writing memoir by Natalie Goldberg. In the next paragraph she quotes from “Of Beetles and Angels” by Mawi Asgedom. I don’t know if it came from that book or not.

        • Thanks. I haven’t read that book, though I’ve read others by Goldberg. Perhaps I simply resonated so strongly with the sentence that I thought I’d read it somewhere. :)

    • Yes, it is. However, part of the reason I moved here was to be closer to my aging mom. (She doesn’t live in Richmond, but moving here cut my distance from her in half.) Also, at the time, the guidance I received about moving here was strong, with things falling into place re: the move that were way beyond synchronicity, so I absolutely believe that I was supposed to move here. There have been positive aspects to the move for which I’m grateful and that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t moved here, but the feeling of “home” continues to elude me, in spite of the fact that I love my actual house/home and my neighborhood. I just haven’t found my place here…I haven’t figured out how and where I “fit.” Which I suppose is actually a reflection of my larger challenge these last few years…finding where I “fit” in this next part of my life path. The “theme” of my life in recent years seems to be the leaving behind of who I was in the past, perhaps to clear the slate for who I am to be…so my sojourn in Richmond may be a part of that theme—separating me from the familiar, taking me out of my comfort zone, so that I can start anew. All I know is that it’s the hardest five years I think I’ve ever been through.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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