I'm Not Weighing Myself Anymore - 3 Months - Types of Weight

  
I am happy to announce that I have NOT weighed myself since I pledged not to on my birthday back in June.  I don't have a sense that I have varied very far my my last weigh-in, and I am satisfied with that feeling.  If there is any anxiety, it is in an upcoming doctor's appointment.  My doctor has patients weighed at each visit, so it will happen.  Whether or not I want to be told the number is another matter.  Hmmm . . . . .

Truth be told, if I were interested in a weight measurement right now, it would be the weight of the stress and vulnerability that I hold, that many around me hold.  I tell myself that I am a non-anxious person handling a high stress job, I tell myself that "I've got this."

Yet today, this sunny fall day, I have struggled to see clearly in moments of metaphorical darkness. Fortunately, I've had a few moments of alone time to close my eyes and meditate.  As I closed my eyes and allowed darkness to wash over my mind, the words of David Whyte's poem, Sweet Darkness flowed through my thoughts:

The world was made to be free in.  Give up all the other worlds except the one to which you belong. Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

I know what world I belong in.  I know who and what does not bring me alive.  I am claiming a larger space to live in.  That is all.

*********************************************

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired, the world is tired also.

When your vision is gone, no part of the world can find you.

It is time to go into the night where the dark has eyes to recognize its own.

There you can be sure you are not beyond love.

The dark will make a home for you tonight.

The night will give you a horizon further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.

The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness to learn

anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

                                                                                       ~ David Whyte

I'm Not Weighing Myself Anymore - 2 months, 28 days - Dreams

• REMEMBER TO FIX LETTER 
• Most billable hours - no pressure
• Contact Data
• Research Data
• Pay attention to calendar
• Billable hours
• Leadership - do your part

The list above is what I saw when I opened my computer in a meeting at work.  This was in a dream. Prior to seeing this list, the dream involved my conversation with a co-worker about funding for the victim services agency I work at.  The dream began with this co-worked telling me that the board would not allow me to take a new position in the agency because I had the most billable hours and the new position would not allow me to have billable hours.  

I was determined to show them that I could still continue creating billable hours even in the new position.  So . . . I took a report, signed by my supervisor, and changed the number of billable hours from 1 to 10.  I then filed that report and went on vacation with my mom.

It was a two night vacation, where I ditched my mom at a tourist site on the second day and went back to the hotel alone to work on reports, leaving her to fend for herself overnight.  When I picked her up the next day I acted like my leaving her alone overnight was no big deal, and so did she.  In my mind, I knew she was upset but afraid to bring up the matter.  

After dropping mom off in the parking lot of her apartment complex, I drove to work where I met the co-worker whom I'd had the conversation with about billable hours.  As we walked into a meeting, she told me that someone had altered a report that my supervisor signed.  She stated the board was looking into this.  I played it cool, acted surprised to hear that anyone would do such a thing, etc.  I was confident no one could trace the deed back to me.

My son was in the meeting room with his co-workers, I sat down next to him on his left.  The whole meeting focused on this altered document.  I participated in the conversation, agreeing it was a serious matter.  All during the conversation, I had this sense of satisfaction for what I'd done, and that they could never trace the actions to me.

Finally, it was time for me to give my report.  As I opened my computer find my report and read it, my son leaned over and saw the above list on my desktop.  "Remember to fix letter!?!?!" he shouted out.  "Mom, what does that mean?"

There was a collective gasp from the room, knowing I was the one who altered the document.  My co-worker and supervisor asked me to step into the other room with them.  I opened the altered letter shouting out, "wait, okay, let me print this" as I worked to return the document to it's original state.  I ran to the printer in the room and grabbed the printed document.

The "other room" was this palatial office with wonderful art and furniture and bookshelves.  My co-workers kept grabbing my shoulders and trying to calm me down as I tried to explain myself.  I was defending and, alternately, apologizing for my actions, all the while wondering how I'd ever get another job after what I'd done, how I could afford my current home without a job.  

I also had the sense that that amazing office was somehow meant for me and that through what I'd done to my mom and the altered letter, I had ruined my chances for claiming this space as where I worked, where I lived. I was more sad than scared.

Then I woke up.

I haven't really taken time to analyze this dream.  Interesting points - in our last all-staff meeting we did talk about billable hours , there is a position open at work that, it seems, has been hard to fill, and my son is often in the same meetings I am because of the work we do with different employers.  

What was weird about this dream was, I woke up shaken up.  I took a moment to scan my memory to see if there was a concern about my job security, and no.  The things that stands out the most about this dream is my son blurting out what was on my computer and the heavy sadness I felt at my missed opportunity.  I did not feel angry at my son, it seemed an innocent act on his part.  He was trying to be funny, ribbing me a little, like, "mom.... what does THAT mean?"

Since I've been awake, I've not been able to  shake this feeling that I've done something that has led me to miss out on whatever the metaphor of that palatial office is.  I woke up at 6:15 AM and stayed up because the feeling was so intense - on a Saturday! So, dream explainers and analyzers - what the heck?