Sturdy Readers, it was a hard weekend. Sunday night, when I would have normally been writing this post, I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor instead, sobbing and reorganizing the toiletries under my sink. It didn’t need to be done, but it felt like the right thing to do. Monday I’m headed into the office for the first time in two years. I’ll still be working from home and I’m just cleaning out my desk, but the simple thought of going there unexpectedly triggered an avalanche of confusing feelings about my “old” life and my “new” life.
The last day I spent in the office was in March 2020 and I snuck out early so no one would see my tears. The day before I’d been diagnosed with lipedema and lymphedema – two things I’d never heard of – and at the time it felt like a death sentence. I couldn’t focus on work because all I wanted to do was search Google and, the more I did that, the more freaked out I became. In the weeks that followed, as COVID shut down the world, I literally had nothing to do other than Google “lipedema” and “lymphedema”. In those moments, I couldn’t have imagined the strong, confident, beautiful woman who would eventually return to the cubicle next to the office bathroom.
Yet, sitting there on my own bathroom floor… that transformed woman was terrified of facing the ghost of her pre-lipedema self. My file draw is full of trail mix I can no longer eat. My bulletin board holds smiling pictures from a relationship that’s since ended. That woman doesn’t exist anymore.
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How I wish I could light a fire in the middle of the office and burn the contents of my desk, memories and all. No thank you, I don’t need any packing boxes. Forward. All I want to do is move forward… but I can’t do that without cleaning out the demons.
You probably know by now, that in moments of despair I reach for my headphones. There, on the bathroom floor Sunday night, I put on what is usually my most upbeat Pandora mix. After skipping a few total downers from Alannis Morissett and Sara Bareilles (what the heck were those doing in my dance mix?!) I landed on exactly what I needed.
Andy Grammer’s Lease on Life started mellow and I almost skipped it too, but I’m grateful I didn’t. The drums kick in full force, and he belts out “Everything’s gonna be alright, got a brand new lease on life.”
Like a sunrise on the longest night
Andy Grammer, “Lease on Life”
Like a rescue coming just in time
Yeah, you save me when I cannot see the light
…..
Everything’s gonna be alright
Got a brand new lease on life
I nearly broke my cabinet door jumping up to catch the name of the song and once I was up… I couldn’t help but start dancing, tears still rolling down my cheeks. I hit repeat repeat repeat and before I knew it, I felt better. That’s actually not surprising. Did you know physical activity – any physical activity – is essential for ending a stress cycle? My constant encouragement for you to dance is evidence-based!
So, wherever you are today (hopefully not crying in the bathroom, but that’s ok too) press play on Lease on Life and move that body until the stress moves the hell out. You got this.
Sturdy Woman 