I don’t wanna’.
I don’t wanna’ write.
I don’t wanna’ do yoga.
I don’t wanna’ go on a walk.
I don’t wanna’ meditate.
I don’t wanna’ eat healthily.
I don’t wanna’ clean the playroom.
I don’t wanna’ travel.
I don’t wanna’ have a migraine.
I don’t wanna’ make a decision on my kids’ school for next semester.
I don’t wanna’ feel that spot in my back.
I don’t wanna’ have that racing heart sneak into my day.
I don’t wanna’
I don’t wanna’
i don’t wanna.
And, I don’t wanna’ teach.
Or write. (I think I already said that one.)
I don’t want to be in service to anything else.
I want to do what I want to do.
I want to feel good AND to do whatever, or NOT do whatever, I want to do.
This game is the pits.
(But you see what’s happening, right? I’m writing. I don’t want to write. So, I’m writing about not writing. shhh… don’t tell me. Let’s keep going.)
I don’t wanna’ is a well practiced art form for me.
“I haven’t written in a week,” I say to my husband who has popped upstairs for a few minutes during his lunch break. “And I don’t want to. At all. I wrote everyday since May for at least 750 words but now I don’t want to do it.”
“huh. Like exercise,” he observes.
“Exactly,” I respond. “It’s just like exercise. To the point it is something I know my body loves and needs to feel its best, and yet I fight kicking and screaming to not do it anyway.”
Screw it. The things I know are “good” for me. The talking. The sharing. The truth telling. The writing. The eating well. The good rest. The outside. The Being Here Now with the godforsaken guaranteed sooth saying of the sun, the trees, the wind and the hard packed earth.
I don’t wanna’.
What a funny and unrefined segue to an invitation to spend time with me. But that’s what is next. Because, my well practiced “I don’t wanna'” tantrum doesn’t mean “I’m not gonna'”. Those are different words altogether, see?
“I don’t wanna'” tends to be a sneaky way of me fighting all that is. Finding my last “ROAR!!!!!” to take back control with my mighty stiff arm to reality.
“I don’t wanna'” is a harbinger of my grief. For the messy “is.” For the inescapable “ought.” For the crash of two currents moving from opposite directions toward center.
“I don’t wanna'” tells me I’m getting closer. Closer to more truth.
The truth that states clearly and directly,
“I don’t want this current truth to be The Truth anymore. I’m all done now, please.
Next Act beyond the pandemic. Beyond structural racism. Beyond my kids’ lives turned upside down. Beyond my own business twisted into a pretzel. Beyond my nephew’s death. Beyond the epidemic of suicide. Beyond the suffering of the world. Beyond my fears of doing more. Beyond my tired. Beyond my busted up heart. Beyond beyond beyond…….
Oh….. Look there. Out the window. The birds are picking through the roof leaves, browned and dried, for small bits of water. Finding the sustenance in between the death. The decay. The memory of what lived before.
Right. So, let’s do that.
Let’s “I don’t wanna'” Grinch it with our Grief – our tremendously unholdable grief, our small pebbled grief and all sizes in between – and let’s allow whatever transformation to come of its own accord.
Join me on Saturday, December 19th to move, breathe and share. Or, if you desire, to sit, stew, settle and sort through. All is welcome. RSVPs are appreciated but not required. The session is free but donation to a charity of your choice is encouraged – whether $5 or $50, please spread your good intentions.
Please forward this invitation along to anyone who comes to mind.
Grief, Grit, and Gratitude
All levels therapeutic yoga class and share session
Saturday, December 19th
Zoom link here for session (live 15 minutes prior)
RSVP to firstname.lastname@example.org
See you soon. I sincerely hope.