The return of guilt

I didn't realize that I had so much scheduled for my "time off"... but that's kind of who I am as a person, anyway. I do this to myself all the time. Annnnnnnnd... I still feel twinges of guilt for not doing enough. Like, seriously, you're stressed out over that? Get a grip, woman! You're hardly doing anything!

Yeah, but I'm on vacation. Chew on that word for a while. That means I don't have to do anything. Right?

Most of it is just prep work for the speaking engagements I have. I finally got my sermon done. I was pretty miserable this last week, not having it done.

Shame! Guilt! How dare you watch the Waltons instead of finishing your sermon?! Priorities! Prioritieeeeeeees!

Sigh. (Somehow, I don't think that this is legitimate... but I don't know how to get rid of it.)

So, anyway, I had to get out of the house yesterday. I went down to town and hung out in a park for a while (working on my sermon), but it was wayyy too windy. I don't like wind much. So I went down to the river park and finished it there... sitting in my car. With the windows down. (After I had wandered around for a while.)

Then, while waiting for the friend with whom I was supposed to go rollerblading to call me back, I hopped over the main road and wandered around the historic downtown district. C and I used to spend a good chunk of time there. It was interesting. Good and necessary, but hard. Kind of bittersweet. It was like a "goodbye".

Now that it has finally and officially hit me that there is no hope and future for our relationship together ever again, I'm grieving the loss all over again. It's not as overwhelming as it was when we had actually broken up, because this loss is cushioned by an extensive span of time. However, it is a loss. I'm sad. And being in Y doesn't make it any easier. Everywhere I turn, a memory rises up and confronts me. I am continually acknowledging and releasing. It's slightly painful. I feel lonely much of the time.

So I wandered by myself at twilight. Like I said, it was a goodbye. A burial of sorts. The death of an old hope that had secretly clung to me with shadowy fingers.

By the time I made it to the old man's shop (where C and I consistently bought our swords, and where I bought my wedding dress), my stomach hurt and I thought I was going to throw up. That passed, and so did I... past dusty storefronts and museums...

It's good, Lord. It's good. I am willing to say goodbye to this. It hurts, but... it's good.