The Snow Blowing Fallacy

We got snow this week. On Thursday, every town in a 70 mile radius had school cancelled, except my district. We didn’t even have a delay! The drive was rough and when I got home that night, I still had the driveway to deal with.

When X first left, it was the dead of winter and I had to figure out how to operate the snowblower. A few days after X left, on the phone with my dad, he walked me through using a choke and how the levers worked. Then, I set off alone, in the dark (because it was always dark) to clear my long, hilly driveway. I repeated this feat at least once a week, often more, as snow continued to fall throughout the winter. I got good at it. I developed a rhythm with it. For me, it became a symbol of my ability to do this alone, to pick up the pieces of the life he shattered and keep moving forward.

On Thursday night, I had to tackle the driveway again. And let me tell you, I absolutely didn’t want to. I was tired from the day and the idea of having to do more work was exhausting. But then I spoke to a friend and in that conversation told her, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” It was like the version of me clawing my way through the first horrific months after X left, reminding myself over and over that I’ve got this. And so I ate a quick dinner, put my gear on, and went out to tackle the driveway.

I still don’t quite have the rhythm of my new driveway. I messed up in the fall and didn’t rake all the leaves and now when I go over them, the auger picks them up along with the gravel underneath and flings the rocks. I also haven’t figured out the path that is most efficient, so each time I’ve been experimenting.

Anyway, as I made my way up and down the driveway, trying not to send flying rocks toward the house or my car, I thought about this next chapter of my life. I thought about how I am starting to open myself up to the idea of dating, but really, to the idea of being vulnerable with someone, to trusting again, ever so slowly. I’m starting to open myself up to the idea that relationships can look different from what I had with X. That I can have an intimate relationship with someone and still have my own life, and be my own person. So I made a decision – no matter what happens, I’m going to continue to do the snow blowing. It’s my symbol of independence. I’m going to hold it close, to remind me that I can do it.

Powerful, right?

Well the universe seems to think that’s funny. I woke up this morning and I have injured a muscle running from my neck down my spine, stopping at my shoulder blade. It’s so painful that when I turn my head a certain way, or lift my arm, the pain is so sharp I gasp. And the kicker is we got more snow last night and I need to snow blow again, but I can’t. My back hurts too much. Shoveling the deck is definitely not possible today. I do not want to ask anyone for help. The idea I can do it all alone seems to be a fallacy. I feel like the universe might be sending me a message here. Something about not being too rigid with my expectations of what the future may bring? Or a healthy relationship means you both do your part and you can lean on each other? I don’t know. It appears life has no user manual. I’m going to be slowly feeling my way through this next chapter as well, with no certainty of anything.