The number one question I get asked is, “What is it like to
be away for a month?” And by ‘away’, I
assume people mean not engaged with my regular day to day life— a connotation
of being exotic or mysterious. The truth
is, if I hadn’t gotten on that plane the day I left, the likelihood of me being
here today is minimal. I don’t mean that
in as quite a dramatic sense as it sounds. I wasn’t terminally ill seeking a
miracle or on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
But I was completely spent and depleted emotionally, mentally and
physically. In fact, upon arriving in
London I spent the first four days very ill, grateful for caring friends who
looked after me. So my answer to the question
most asked is, “It was fabulous.”
However, fabulous came as an evolution.
The last year and a half has been tumultuous, yet empowering. A divorce and the act of dividing a life shared for more than twenty years, coupled with closing my business and leaping into an unknown future away from my island community, left me exhausted on every level. This trip was meant as a respite where time wasn’t dictated by others, but only by my own desires. I didn’t set an alarm. I only looked at the time on my phone on the days I had reservations or trains to catch. I ate when I felt like it. I went where I wanted. I did nothing because I ‘was supposed to’. Day after day, I felt the layers of stress I had carried, almost unknowingly, fall away from me. My breathing became deeper. My mind slowed, which those who know me will tell you is rare. Sleep, which had been elusive for years, came easily. I slept eight hours or more, something not usually done unless I am sick or under prescribed medications. My body, which has the standard aches and pains of any middle-aged body that is not as well tended as it should be, relaxed. I don’t recall taking Advil once.
Aside from the physical manifestations, something else began
to happen. Something more subtle, almost
imperceptible. It started at the pub one
night with new friends. Someone said
something funny, and we all laughed. A
few days later, the moment repeated itself.
I found that every day I laughed.
Loudly, deeply and freely. Not a
chuckle or a smirk or a giggle. But the
kind of laughter that brings tears, or makes your muscles ache. Were my U.K. friends funnier than my American
friends? Not necessarily. Over the last several years, I had forgotten
to make time for laughter. Strange how
something so small can become a luxury we sacrifice in the face of stress. With the laughter came a lightness I had
forgotten about...of spirit and heart. One of my oldest friends from my school
days in the U.K. said in my third week that I was more like my old self,
someone he hadn’t seen in a while. To be
honest, I hadn’t even realized I had gone missing, but sometimes we don’t know that
we’ve slipped away until we emerge again.
So my time ‘away’ was fabulous to be sure. The real trick will be to hold its lessons
and bring them forward in my real life.
Already I sleep less and do more ‘shoulds’ than ‘wants’, but the
laughter and my true self is something I don’t want to lose again. Thus far, holding strong!
I’ve returned to London for another visit. The life back home has drastically
changed. My home for the last fifteen
years is for sale. I’ve packed and moved my bare essentials into a small studio
flat in Portland, Oregon. Everything
else that matters is contained in about twenty five boxes in a small 8x8x5
storage pod and my business is closed. I’m
not sure what the future holds for me when I return.
Right now, I am sipping a morning cup of tea and listening
the East End of London wake up to a sunny day.
I returned, well, because I can.
I wanted to continue my explorations of London. This period of “just me” time will
likely not come around again for many years in my life. So I am embracing it. When I stood at Customs and the agent asked
about my return so soon after a month long stay, I smiled brightly and said,
“Why not? I have time off and I love
London.” She smiled and said, “Enjoy
your trip.” And I am enjoying my trip.
Everything I wrote in March still holds true. I find my true self each day I remember to
laugh and to ask myself what I need today.
Re-emergence isn’t a one-time event.
It’s a process.
