The Elusive Intersection of Time & Inspiration

I seem to do my best brain storming behind the wheel of a fast moving automobile. Like this past Wednesday when I got clocked going 49 in a 35 on First Avenue. Oops. My gift from the (hunky) officer (aside from general eye candy)? He cited me with the lowest possible infraction, driving inattention, which comes with a minimal fine and no reporting on my record.

Officer Henry (that even sounds hunky) said he was pleased I didn't greet him with a bunch of excuses and he appreciated my attitude. I was pleased with his physique and appreciated how the rolled up sleeves on his fitted police uniform gave him somewhat of a burly lumberjack appearance and left little to the imagination. This is where I almost day dreamed he was one of those novelty strippers until I quickly realized I was actually being issued a traffic citation.

In all seriousness it pays to be kind. WTF else was I going to do? I actually was in a daydream haze just prior to finally noticing the flashing blue and red motorcycle lights in my rear view. I didn't know how fast I was driving. Heck, for a spell there I wasn't even conscious I was driving. I'm going to consider today's citation the universe issuing me a warning for my recent lack of mindfulness.

Started a writing project a few weeks ago. Well, project makes it sound a little lofty. Let's call it a little writing excursion. A flashback to memory lane, if you will. As I settle into middle age, I've noticed a couple things. The first is I often get stuck on recalling the most common of vocabulary. The second is I've been oh so nostalgic. Is this a fortysomething right of passage? My excursion is somewhat of a coming of age story, based on real life experiences being transplanted to the middle of the country in the middle of high school. At the time I seriously thought my life had ended.

In reality, over the past few years, I've suffered a mysterious illness. At times also serious. Serious to the point of thinking and feeling in actuality my days were numbered. Perhaps they are. I mean no one really knows when their number is going to be called.

Today, for example, my husband and I ventured into Downtown Seattle to partake in the LGBT Pride parade festivities. I had been feeling a little winded all morning. This can occur for various reasons. Sometimes due to stress and anxiety while other times due to physical conditions such as lack of sleep or being a bit dehydrated. In today's case I chalk it up to the latter.

So we were standing on a high balcony overlooking the parade and thousands of parade-goers. Both of us were in a mood. I had been in a good mood, mostly, until we got in the car. My husband is blue. His closest friend just left after having visited this past week. He said he really feels like himself when she's around, and he considers her his one and only true friend. His eyes welled with tears. It is so important for us to have great friendships.

Incidentally we were on our way to meet up with some friends who ended up no showing. That was a bit of a bummer. Looking around the sea of people, I recognized only one or two people here and there. Despite having so many people around, including my beloved hubby, I cannot help having a feeling of isolation. Is sadness transmittable in the way a cold or flu is?

Why am I feeling sad? Today of all days is a momentous occasion. Since the summer of love this is the first ever Pride celebration which marks the official legal precedent for LGBT equality in America. Historic. Epic. Why then would I have any reason to be mopey?

At one point I felt my breathing further constrict. So I attempted applying what I learned in biofeedback. Slowing by breath down. Five counts for inhale, five counts for exhale. Easier said than done when one's lungs or diaphragm aren't allowing full breaths. I made the mistake of helping an exhale along by further forcing my diaphragm to squeeze out a breath. Suddenly I found myself unable to draw a breath for a couple moments. An immediate wave of being light headed to the point where I felt as though I might faint. I called it out to my husband and told him I needed to sit for a minute. So we ventured inside the Westlake Center and took a seat at an open table. It wasn't long before he decided it was time for us to just head back home.

My illness has completely transformed my way of being. Almost everything is more of a challenge at times. In consideration of being in a crowded urban area for a day of festivities, my first thought is always "will I have the energy for this?" If I get hungry, where and what will I eat? Alcohol is out of the question. I've not been able to drink it or caffeine for about two and a half years.

All of the friends I used to spend time with regularly, our encounters by in large revolved around food and drink. In that regard I know I've been no fun to be around. I loathe feeling like I have to be specially catered to in any way. Therefore my default has just been to lay low and stay at home. The last thing I would ever want to do is rain on someone else's parade. For crying out loud I used to be the life of the party!

When I do have the time, inspiration and wherewithal to venture out, it's kind of a big deal for me. That even seems strange to me to admit such a thing. It's the truth. So to not only want to be with my so-called friends and commit the time and energy toward being with them only to have them end up not matching my effort ... I have to admit this injures my feelings quite deeply. On a spiritual level I do understand my vibrational energy isn't a match, and there's no ego in that. It's just a tough paradigm to adjust to at times.

In my thirties I had the zeitgeist with me. I was on top of all the chic new spots that opened in town. Had my fingers around the pulse of my community. Heck, to some degree I helped give my community a pulse.

It must be me, and not just my illness. I don't have any strong relations within the family I grew up knowing. Some of them I don't necessarily care to know.

I cannot help but feel lost at times, lost and isolated. Surely others have had this experience. I suppose the good news is I know better exists for me and my life. By better, I simply mean a warm, uplifting sense of connection. My spirit so craves this.

Just spaced out for a moment and two things came to mind:
1. My bestie recently had my beautiful God daughter. Perhaps part of my disconnect stems from the sudden shift in our ties. She has her fiancé and baby to focus on now. While I know we are still vital to one another, things have changed, for better or worse. How could they not have? Even so, I am very happy for her. Truly.

2. I've not been focusing inward as much lately. Days I either started with yoga or meditation, I felt wonderful and totally dialed in. I think at the very least some before bed meditation is in order.

Getting back into the groove with my coach is in the cards, too. Our next phase is to get me clear on my big why. Why do I get out of bed each day? What is my life's purpose? Those are anything but meager questions to answer. What do you believe is your life's purpose?