2006_11 The Moon is Kicking My Butt

The moon is kicking my butt. I find myself all over the board emotionally. For years, I’ve contended that the full moon exaggerated whatever emotion was the prevailing one. I’ve also held that we just didn’t need as much sleep during the full moon.

At this point in life, I already deal with a range of emotions most days. But to have them exaggerated when I am on less than optimum sleep, is killing me. I am high with relief at having completed a home improvement task that was way beyond my league of expertise. Then I’m blue at not being able to contribute to a conversation on travel. It is not because I haven’t travelled; it is because I feel hopeless about ever traveling again. I go home to fight with my oldest son, walk the dog to create the illusion of leaving my problems behind, and then find myself completely blue. Blue because of the loneliness of raising teenage boys alone, blue because of the hopelessness of being financially secure again and able to take a vacation from responsibilities, blue because I do so miss taking trips to anywhere, blue from the overwhelming mountain of tasks I must complete before my life seems any simpler. Blue.

And yet, there is the moon, as lovely as ever. She is shrouded in a light layer of clouds, with both nimbus and cumulus framing her against the midnight sky. My heart feels her pull, as real as if I’d jogged the dog instead of walking him. Breathing is good, and creates the illusion that I can draw strength from her pull, rather than being thrown around emotionally by the pull. The air is cool, and stings as I draw in a deep breath.

The next day I am consumed with work and teenagers and school follow-up and attempts at exercise. I’m tired and sore from the work I did over the weekend, and stop for a moment to read the ten lessons from Noah’s Ark. You know the one – Don’t miss the boat, We’re all on the same boat, Travel in pairs, Stay fit in case someone asks you to do something big when you’re six hundred years old….. It ends with: Remember there is a rainbow at the end. And for the first time in forty-eight hours, the exaggerated emotion is peace. Sad perhaps, but also peace. Peace at knowing in my heart, that this is the right path. Peace at knowing that there is a rainbow at the end for me, but that I must first weather the storm. It may not be a pleasant path, but choosing it was the right answer. It was the right answer for me, for my boys, and ultimately, I believe, for my ex-husband. There is a rainbow somewhere down the road. It may not be the one I designed or dreamed or envisioned. But it is there. Lesson number two from my thirties: roll with the punches, keep your head up, and you’ll end up facing the right direction. Here at forty seven years old, I still need to keep my head up to be able to recognize the rainbow when I get there. Even if fleeting, I’m all about recognizing the rainbow.

So, the moon may kick my butt to ensure that I notice what must change, but she unknowingly creates a stronger element of peace. Resignation perhaps, but peace all the same. And I’ll not let it prevent me from watching for the rainbow.