Happy and sad

Currently, I feel sad. I am sad for the loss of something that I never possessed. I think I'm sad because I wanted it badly.

It's quite pertinent that I sat in a doctor's waiting room this morning, because of pain in my hip, and observed two toddlers. One was playing merrily with his toys, smiling, looking content, seemingly happy with what he had. The other one, and maybe he was poorly and in pain, was wailing and repeating over and over what he wanted and needed. He went as far as taking toys away from the other child - not to play with them, just so the other one couldn't.

I very much identify with the second boy, the discontent one. I want and think I need, which is generally born out of an emptiness or perception of lack.


My check in this morning:

I was thankful yesterday for a great swim, for finding meaning in my morning reading, for getting a lot of my tasks at work done, for getting through the meeting I fretted about yesterday, for a lovely meal with my fellows, for being able to feel excitement for the things to come.

I woke up this morning feeling knackered yet excited. I am looking forward to today, to the lunch with the British Boy, to going to see an exhibition, to meeting friends in the evening and to flying. I am also apprehensive, and a bit scared, about my time in the US. I have a plan, I will stick to calling and texting people, doing morning readings and I want to practice mindfulness, which I find actually quite hard. My mind tends to wander and the constant exercise to bring it back to observer mode is exhausting and repetitive.

When checking myself, I feel my hip hurting, but I'm not annoyed by it. It's a fact and I'm sitting at the doctors right now, and I am doing what I can. Thinking about today, especially the food and alcohol, I feel a flutter of fear in my stomach. It's fear around the number of calories they contain and my fear of gaining weight. My hearts desire is to not let that fear get in the way of enjoying my day. I am a commitment to balance.

 

Well, so far, it's been the most wonderful day - the British Boy surprised me with a bunch of snowdrops, which made me cry. My dead granny would give a bunch to me each year for my birthday for as long as I can remember. No, it's not my birthday, but I will be in Seattle on the day, so we decided to celebrate 'It's-not-my-birthday'-day.

We had an amazing 3 course meal at a 2 Michelin star restaurant in London with beautiful food.

Started with champagne, as one would...

Went on to an un-pictured amuse bouche, followed by Norwegian Salmon Carpaccio with fennel.

Then the most succulent, melt in your mouth tender beef cheek in miso with seasonal vegetables.

Followed by amazing cheese.

The oozing Vacherin was my favourite, although the other one, and sorry, I can't remember the name, tasted mightily fine, very much like my favourite Comte, it was the Vacherin that stole the show.

I'm now at home, having almost finished packing my suitcase. I will meet some friends at a pub later on for drinks to celebrate my non-birthday. Yet, I am a bit sad for something didn't happen that I really wanted to happen. That I felt needed to happen. And it didn't. And it's ok that it didn't happen as much as it's ok that I feel sad about it not happening.

Feeling happy and sad in one.