As I age, my internal battles change.
Used to be, I tortured myself over what I did, what I didn't do, how I looked, all that I didn't accomplish...and on, and on.
Now, I battle over What to Accept...and What to Fight.
Do I accept that I am heavier than I should be, and allow myself to simply exist as I am...in peace? Or do I continue to beat myself up until I finally, finally do something about it?
Do I accept that my neighborhood is patrolled by a hawk that keeps stalking the love-doves? Or do I make a plan to get rid of that hawk once and for all?
Do I accept that I am married to an artist who wants nothing more than to do art? Or do I continue to actively encourage (read: nag) him to build a stable business, a retirement fund, a steady income?
Do I accept that my mother wants to relocate to the beach to be with my other two sisters? Or do I force her to live up here with me because they have too much on their plate right now and cannot take care of her?
Do I accept that I have stomach pain, knee pain, head pain, heart pain...and keep taking pills? Or do I finally, finally do something about it?
Do I accept that I cannot get pregnant and my husband's refusal to try in-vitro? Or do I push, and wear him down, and force the issue?
Do I accept my husband's non-participation in the adoption paperwork? Or do I force him to sit with me to fill it out, get it done, move it forward?
Do I accept the fact that we didn't receive an invitation from one single friend to do anything tomorrow on the 4th of July, despite the dozens of parties I have thrown for 40+ people over the last 5 years? Or do I pick up the phone and be the one to host the event...again?
Egads, I could keep going. But these thoughts are too heavy for me to deal with, too much for me to tackle all at once. My inclination is to plop myself down in the new Barcalounger and go Belly-Up....at least, for today.