Consistent and constant practice

I want what I write to be SO. As in, "so be it" and "it shall be done." Like letting go. I want my writing of letting go to be the letting go.

Sigh.

It's not.

A meeting that I wasn't worried about when I agreed to attend it now has me worrying. I don't like secrecy or having things revealed to me in a group setting. Maybe I should've been a journalist. Regardless, what seems innocent about 3 hours ago now has me making up elaborate plans, steeling myself for emotional blows, and planning for my retreat (and I don't mean the relaxing kind).

Ugh. On reflecting though, before having K, I would've been sweating right now. I would've called someone to talk me down. I would've actually been crying and feeling sorry for myself.

But as I went to drop the mail at the post office, I realized, quite frankly, that whatever happens in that meeting in over a week (just enough time to drive myself crazy, if I wanted to), is 1) meant to be 2) doesn't involve my son being taken away or my husband leaving me 3) is completely out of my control. And that means I can choose to worry about it, but in the end, I will achieve nothing from that worry. Worry doesn't make me stronger, more prepared, funnier, more creative, more resourceful, or pleasant to be around.

So even though I'm not that good at letting go, despite my blog title, I really don't have space in my life to worry about this. I have a family to love, a body to cherish, a mind to revel in, a city to explore, and more than enough abundance all around me.