He Putteth Away His Wife

My husband done kicked me out of the house.

I don’t like leaving -really.  There’s a million and two things I need to get done, and aside from that I’ve got a week’s worth of preschooling to make up and I’ve got to get ready for the CUTE hair flowers we’re going to be making for mutual and I’ve got to make up for a missing a week’s worth of playing piano at the high school and OH my poor piano students who have had to miss so much on account of my sick kids and then I’d like to get a few meals in the freezer for later and the kitchen counter need  CPR and then there’s the mending and the sewing and the laundry.

And I can’t forget to give Lucifer his bath.

But away I went.  Alone.  I’m not going to lie, I’ve had a total of THREE mini panic attacks about being alone.  I feel downright vulnerable, but I also feel like it’s a good thing to have gotten away from that.  When I was in college, I was PRO at being alone.  I walked myself to my car.  I ate alone.  I was able to spend twenty solid minutes alone in the bathroom.

But now?  Heh.

I depend on my husband and children so much.  They are my shields, my excuses, my reason-for-not-growing.

Okay, that last one is The Truest One of All.  Only I didn’t know it.

The things is: I never had TIME to know it.  Really.  As I’ve taken a giant step back, I discovered something grisly.  It’s my soul.

Have you seen it lately?  It’s shriveled and curled up inside of me, begging for attention.  I haven’t listened to it because frankly, I didn’t have time for it’s needy attitude. I was too busy nourishing the souls of my children and the Sunday School kids I sub for and the Young Women I adore to no end.  It’s as if I’ve been passing the turkey around the table, making sure everyone got a BIG helping at the expense of myself.  Seems dignified, doesn’t it?  Well it’s not.  Because we’re not talking about turkey.  We’re talking about my soul.  The WORST part about it (as if having a malnourished soul isn’t sobering enough) is that I’ve been physically feeding my body all sorts of junk to make up for the hungry-like-the-wolf signals my SOUL was sending out.  I somehow found myself feeding my body and starving my soul.  The more I ate, the more my spiritual insides withered.

I realize that now.

I also realize that though I hate it, I NEED to be alone at least once a week to reconnect my body with my soul and make sure they’re in harmony and not duking it out.  Anyway, that’s what they do when they want attention.  Juvenile, I know.  But I can’t point fingers.  They learned it all from me, after all.

After coming to the GREAT and GLORIOUS and HARROWING knowledge that I’ve been starving myself, I opened up my scriptures, not knowing where I’d end up.  I turned to the index of the Book of Mormon and the word “Feast” stood out to me.  I thought it was a little strange since I was trying to do the opposite BUT I found 2 Nephi 9:51 to be spot on.  “Feast upon that which perisheth not… Let your soul delight in fatness.”  Fatness?  Feast?  HEY!  I can totally get on board with this!  That is WHAT I DO!  After scribbling a few lines in my journal, I got up off the floor I’d been sitting and pondering on.  It looks like this.  I’ll be danged if these floors aren’t everything a girl could ever want out of life.

I walked out of the door and went for a very short walk during which I took in some local culture. Then I quickly went back to my truck because the cold was literally BITING my nose off (though it could do with a minor trim. Not gonna lie). I got in it and drove to a book store.
Then I bought a book.
I never NEVER buy books. Because I never read books. Because I don’t have time!
After buying a book -a very insightful one, at that -I walked across the street to indulge my inner-hippie at a small organic cafe.
I plunked myself down in a corner table and ate squash/potato soup.
And I read.
And read.
I didn’t bother looking at the time because I knew it was just FLYING BY. I did bother to take the picture for my friend, Tia. It turns out I was the only person who ate organic today. Why? “That crap is for rich people who hate themselves.”
Anyway, I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t enjoy the empty cafe 100%.
Because I did.

Halfway through my lunch, I realized with a shocking amount of surprise that I was eating slowly. I’ve never eaten slowly! My husband has tried so nicely to get me to slow DOWN when I eat, and I never have! It’s been ingrained in me, as the younger sister of three strapping boys, to eat or starve.
Obviously, I chose to eat, and I’ve got the shoulders to prove it.

When I realized I had been eating slowly, I grabbed my cell phone in a panic. I must have been there for hours. JUST HOW LONG HAD I BEEN SITTING THERE?! I checked.
Twenty friggin’ minutes.
Twenty!
That’s it!

Usually when I go out to eat with my husband, it seems we only get twenty minutes together but when we check the time we realize it’s been closer to 2 hours. I have to say: today took forever.

Last time I got away for a weekend, I took my husband and it seemed like just when we got there we had to turn around and go home.
This time? Wow. I feel like I’ve been here for a month of Sundays.
I haven’t bothered to “pamper” my body at all. No pedicures, no hair cuts, no massages, NOT even a heaping handful of cookies.
But my soul is slowly being babied back to health.

Balance is a crucial thing to keep and an easy thing to lose.
Remind me of that next Saturday when I come with eleventy billion excuses to stay home and NOT venture out into nature for some feasting and fatness.
Just typing that is SO satisfying.

Before I go: if I were chair, I’d look just like this green one. Really, I would.
Know how I know? It’s gloriously chipped all over.
Mazel tov.