Weekend recap

Once I decided to let the Girl Scout Issue go, I immediately started doing much better. Spent the weekend laughing with friends and family, photographing three volleyball games and editing the images from those plus another from last weekend, puttering around the house, and just being. Throw in some good music and it was just about perfect. I thought I had it licked, these negative feelings, until I woke up yesterday morning at 6 in a panic about going to Mass. I thought, "How can I face him? How can I sit there in the pew and watch our pastor celebrate Mass knowing how I feel and what I think? How on earth can I take communion with the thoughts I have swirling in my head and in my heart? I'd be a huge hypocrite, and there's nothing I can't stand more than a hypocrite." I scrolled through messages on my phone, trying to distract myself and willing the panic to subside. M said, "Hey. I didn't know you were awake." and the flood gates opened. We decided it would be best for me to miss Mass this weekend, and so for the first time in many, many years, I didn't go. The only thing I regret is not being there for my family, but then again, I'd have had a hard time explaining to my kid why Mommy was crying through the entire Mass. I know I made the right choice, even though part of me is pissed that I allowed one priest to keep me away from something where I normally find so much comfort. I just need a bit of distance is all. M came home after Mass and said, "I'm glad you didn't go. It wouldn't have been good."

Overall I'm feeling much better about the whole thing. What will happen, will happen. The only thing I can do now is react, and I definitely have control over that. Usually. Sometimes. Occasionally. What helps is to focus on the things I love, and the things that make me happy. This girl, for instance:

And writing (which I haven't done enough of lately) and photography (which I've done a ton of lately) and walking.

Now that I've been cleared by my podiatrist, I've started walking again. My walk last night was far too ambitious, though. I set the mileage based on the length of the podcast I wanted to hear. Turns out that This American Life was too long for me. I got 3.5 miles in before figuring out that I probably shouldn't walk the 1.5 miles left to return home. I had to call M and he came and rescued me (good man, M). It wasn't the foot. Both knees started aching, in different areas, I think because my gait still hasn't quite returned to normal. I could have made it home, but I really don't want knee problems coming on the heels (get it?!) of my foot issues. It is so nice to be moving again, though.

It is a new week. I have clambered out of the pool of self-pity and am ready to give again. And it feels good.