My life ... these shoes ...

My shoes don't fit any more. Literally. I still wear the same size, but somehow my old shoes don't seem to fit. Ironically, my whole life seems to be playing out much like the lack of fit between my footwear and my aging peasant feet.

What a great metaphor. I suppose I could go out and just buy a bunch of new shoes. Or I can stop and reflect on what is really going on with my feet. Is this a temporary situation? Or something that I must take more seriously? In reflecting on footwear and where my feet have taken me over the last few years, I have also been reflecting on my life journey. My choices over the last 6 years have forever altered not just the direction of my life, but also who I am fundamentally, as a person. But, you know that old say, "watch out what you wish for?" As I grow closer to achieving my goals, I have been plagued by a lack of fit between myself and parts of my environment. I am struggling with "fitting in" in certain scenarios. Much like many of my teenage clients, I suppose. In my physical environment, I have become a champion purger because unless my space is zen-like and free of clutter and dust, I grow restless. I throw away unimportant things weekly - old clothes, magazines, entire rooms of furniture, miscellaneous bric-a-brac. In my personal life, purging has come at a price. I resisted it too long, and holding on has had its consequences. I hold on to friendships much like I hold on to shoes that no longer fit.

Purging things is easier than purging relationships. My heart hurts when relationships flounder. Perhaps I need to deal with people the way I deal with books. I used to have a tremendous library. Now I give away my books as soon as I have read them. True, I do keep one or two because I need them for work, or because I may want to read them again, but mostly, I move them on. I cannot bear to throw them in the dust bin, as I believe books have a soul. Placing them in the garbage heap would be like hurting a helpless living being. Besides, I always hope that books that I love will go on to give someone else the same pleasure and delight I felt when reading them. Maybe this is also a good way to look a friendships. We come into each others lives, meet certain needs, share affection, trials, tribulations ... but sometimes, friendships are not meant to last forever. I find it comforting to believe that I can stop mourning the loss of a dear friend, if I re-frame the situation as one of moving on so that someone else can enjoy their time with a new friend. Sort of like "sharing the love" without having to stay in the dysfunctional part of the love. Hmmm ... I have to work this one out a bit more, but I think it might not be a bad way of learning to let go. Sometimes we just have to let go.

And realizing that I treat books with more respect than I have often treated some treasured friendships brings me to another dilemma. I have been unconsciously purging my relationships lately, perhaps because deep-down I knew it had to be done. But, you know, that is never a good way to go through life. Unconscious acts, much like road rage, sometimes are really acts of misplaced emotion; cowardly acts requiring dramatic space on life's stage in order to play out. A conscious and "present" approach to life (and in my case, confronting and dealing with those friendships that simply "don't work" any more) is really what works better for most people. But attaining the wisdom to operationalize such a revelation is never easy (well, maybe it is for some people, but lately, it hasn't been so for me). So, rather than graciously walking away from situations that may no longer be serving either party well, I have been acting like the proverbial "bull in a china shop." I suppose we are all entitled to our bad days and bad behaviours, but I find myself wondering how I reached this point. When did I stop being gracious? It seems to have coincided with the slow evolution of my foot deformities. Having spent the better part of the last year trying to earn the long post-poned masters degree seems to have set wheels in motion that I hadn't counted on. Rather than temper me and bring me to a place of peace, I find myself questioning my role in the lives of others, and their role in my life.

And here is where it gets interesting. I actually like myself better now. I even like my feet better because I actually can walk longer distances than I could when I was thirty. With the right footwear of course. So, I guess I have answered my question. If I want to honour my feet, it is time to move the old shoes to the dust bin, and replace them with nice new ones with room for my feet to make themselves at home. I still have far to go on my journey and I need limbs that will sustain me. As for my friendships, it makes me so sad to realize I could have been more gracious in distancing myself from those that were hurtful, negative or simply had floundered as we all changed over time. Selfishly perhaps, I have resolved that friendships that no longer nourish me or benefit from my attempts at nourishing them, have to be placed in a different space priority-wise. I need to do this to know that I am moving forward, and to make room for new friendships to evolve. One last glance back makes me realize that I don't want to change who I am. In realizing that I stand alone in my new shoes, I suppose I wanted to feel as though others were standing with me. But my journey is not theirs. In trying to be a better person, in many ways I have failed miserably. So I am going to stop trying. The best I can do, I finally realize, is simply strive to be a more authentic me.

So with a new book under my arm and comfy shoes on my feet, I mourn the loss of some treasured objects, a few worn and beloved pairs of shoes, and I mourn more deeply the loss of some treasured friendships. All the while, looking forward with excitement and anticipation toward this next phase of my journey .... and welcoming with a slightly bruised but open heart, my new travel companions.