My post yesterday was actually written over a week ago. I was struggling with getting back into the groove of routine, specifically my workout routine, after weeks of excitement--personally and professionally.
What I didn't know was that that very night, after I wrote that post, my perspective would be drastically shifted.
Last Monday, my husband lost his uncle. He was relatively young, had a lot of life left in him, and didn't give his family and friends much time to prepare for his passing. This is the second death in my husband's family this year, and this one hit him hard. My husband is the hardest working person I know, and yet he is still amazingly giving to anyone who needs him. He never complains at work, he rarely expresses impatience, frustration, or even annoyance with me (and I can be annoying.) He just gives and gives and gives. I could never do what he does, work Monday through Friday, then sit in school on the weekend. Without envy or complaint, he gives up nearly all of his little spare time to others. To top things off he had a medical scare that really shook him. My heart just broke for him.
Phone calls with your mother can always make things better (or at least mine can.) After listening to me cry and scream, and say things like "why can't we catch a break?! Everyone else has it so easy" she reminded me of something so important, I better never forget it again. It doesn't get easier. We just get better at dealing with it--whatever IT is. Kids, house, job, money, health--there will always be something that tests your patience, your sanity. There is no, "well, once this is over things will be better." Or, life would be so much easier if I only had _______.
When a person leaves you relatively suddenly, you begin to think about all the ways you live your life, and if how you spend your time, your energy, is the way you really want to spend it. For me, it made me really appreciate the people in my life that I love, and how precious each interaction is. I worked extra hard not to stress the small stuff. And by small stuff, I mean the things that I will not think about on my deathbed, like the extra $300 I shouldn't have to spend to fix my car mirror that I didn't break. Or the $100 to take the cat to the vet, which didn't solve the cat's problem. Or the day(s) I didn't have time for a workout. Or even the bellyache I had after having delicious cupcakes. None of these annoying inconveniences will matter in the end, so I really tried not to spend my time being frustrated about them.
What I can control is how I treat myself and how I treat others. I can decide to make choices that enhance my well-being, rather than deter me away from my personal goals in life. As a couple, we decided to take care of ourselves. My husband has decided that he will take time, everyday, to do something that he loves. Something that will make him happy. He can't control the hours spent at work, and he knows he chose to follow his dreams by going to school on the weekend. But he can choose not to be miserable when he has the time. For that, I truly admire him.
“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light.” Dumbledore