Well, I think I made it. I went through all my motions today–taught Pilates at the Y, did a private Pilates session, drove to Brighton and met with my Mastermind team, spent an hour of drive-time on the phone networking with my first boss, rode the bike for 18 miles at dusk in 45-degree weather, made a vat of soup, had the girls over for Stitch-and-Bitch, and cleaned up the kitchen. Consumed as much wine as possible during the Stitch-and-Bitch part, and while cleaning the kitchen, but have managed thus far to hold off the anguished weeping. I soldiered through–isn’t that appropriate for the Veteran’s Day weekend?
I was aware throughout most of it that I was putting my proxy out there today. She did a fine job–much better than I would have done. She has more experience interacting with my exterior life than I do, and I’m recognizing how often I send her out in my stead. It’s just easier.
The thing I really want tonight is to authentically connect with someone, but I’m also aware that little Lizzy is still waiting for my attention. Why am I so much more reluctant to seek her out than I am to reach out to someone–anyone? Is he a shortcut, a diversion, a distraction? I can’t fathom such things with so much wine in me.
My proxy is telling me to go to bed. Maybe she’ll get in touch with little Lizzy while I sleep.