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The wreckage

A car crash. The slow motion and out of control feeling, senses on overload, terrifying experience.

I dream about car crashes regularly, and each dream is unsettling to say the least.* Yesterday I woke with an unusually vivid reminder of maybe my thousandth dream about being caught in the wreckage of a highway accident. Rattled, as always, as I gained consciousness I realized I kind of AM sitting in the middle of my own version of a crash.

I woke up and the ache in my chest reminded me that I’m heartbroken. And the wine glass on my bedside table had lulled me to sleep the night before much too late following a dinner of food I picked up on my way from wherever. My nerves are running on constant high-alert and I all too often medicate them with a Marlboro Light instead of time in nature. I haven’t eaten a vegetable that didn’t come on a Taco Supreme in weeks. I have too much stuff in my home that distracts me from what is important, what I really want to be doing with my days. And my oldest dog’s 12 years are showing; she has trouble transitioning from laying down to standing, much less walking.

This dream car crash hurled me toward facing my reality. And I need the jaws of life.

So here’s the deal: I’m extracting myself. There are definitely a few things I don’t have much control over right now. A quick healing broken heart isn’t something I have known. But I sure can make everything else better – except maybe Piper’s old-lady legs, but damn it, I’m going to try!

While there are things I cannot change, there are plenty I can. The moving forward plan (and this is a journey; it will be a slow one): eat more plants, no fast food, no soda, dear Jesus – no more cigarettes, restart the Plexus triplex formula of probiotics and an energy drink, start a running program (I will be running the Kansas Half Marathon in November, after all), more meditating and prayer than worrying, maybe getting a journal entry done now and then, better managing my self-employed time and purging my house of all of its unwanted stuff.

Yesterday I started. I ate all of my meals at home and they were mostly entirely plant-based, took two walks with my infant buddy (I babysit sometimes and yesterday required two walks to keep the screaming to a minimum. Hey, it fit in my plan!), and I only had one stress Marlboro and two Tank 7s. I only cried once.

I am a work in progress. Just like you are. We are all in this together, and I’m hell bent on not remaining stuck in this heap of rubble. I’ll keep sharing. Feel free to do the same. We can virtually high five and stuff (because high fives are my favorite).

*As an impeccable driver myself, if this dream were ever to come true, I would obviously not be at fault. (I am hopeful that sharing this recurring nightmare vs. my stellar driving history is not some sort of jinx situation. If so, I hope this post will serve as some evidence of my abilities or the simple fact that I jinxed myself).