Cloud Nine: n. “A state of perfect happiness or euphoria.”
This phrase is an accurate description of how I felt from this past Thursday through Sunday. The feeling of floating on a cloud, above the world, laying back with my legs crossed and a cold drink in my hand, admiring the view.
This is a public service announcement: Cloud Nine only allows occupants to stay for a short period of time before you get knocked off and plummet through the air, only to find yourself in a crash-landing trying to pick up the pieces.
Everything had been going beyond what we could have expected. We got approved for our transfer from Cincinnati back to Pennsylvania after waiting five years; we sold our house in three days for much more than what we bought it for; we found our forever home the same day we got the news that we sold our house; we got to be with friends and family all weekend to celebrate, and we felt closer and more in love, elated by our good fortune.
Until I got body slammed off of the cloud (you’re welcome to the W.W.F. fans for the wrestling reference).
This Monday crash and burn wasn’t your typical bad day. It started with a client cancelling after rushing all morning and leaving without my beloved coffee, to my mom calling me and telling me my cat had passed away that morning, all while sobbing uncontrollably.
The day continued as followed: everything that could have went wrong did. It was a “domino effect” of sorts. I had clients in crisis. I had detours on my way home that set me back nearly an hour. I hadn’t been feeling well, and when I got home I found my husband waiting with materials to paint the spare bedroom. I hate to paint, so this was the straw that broke the camels back.
I did what I had to do that night and snuck in some reading before bed for comfort, with plans to be Positive Polly the following day. On my way to work, I listened to a hilarious morning show and talked to my mom who seemed in better spirits.
I was feeling better until I was talking to my husband about saving money for our move and pop...flop, flop, fop—a nice ole flat tire and nowhere to pull over safely. Bring on the rage tears, ladies and gents! The floodgates let loose, and there I was in a black dress sitting outside of my car on a 92 degree day trying to talk to the robotic answering service for my car insurance company repeating, “Hamilton, Ohio” with the response, “I’m not quite sure I got that. Please repeat the city and state you are currently in.”
I actually started to laugh. Not like a cute giggle but a guttural, cathartic, tear-inducing laugh. How I went from feeling so high to so low was like whiplash. How had things gone from so fantastic to so difficult? Why couldn’t they go from so fantastic back to neutral?
I went to teach my yoga class with the intention to get this distress out of my tissues, to hold space for my students, put my woes aside, to close my eyes and breathe during savasana, and to leave whatever turmoil I had from the past two days on my mat.
I didn’t listen to music on the way home; I listened to my thoughts. I processed my strong emotions, and I realized this is life. This swing of emotions, the fortunate and the unfortunate, the highs and the lows, all just make me human.
The hard lessons bring us back into our bodies and force us to learn, even if unsolicited, that we need to go through this experience. I learned that what happened could have been worse. I’m not invalidating myself because my emotions were real; however, after seeing things for what they actually were, I feel okay.
I feel more than okay because I did get to float on Cloud Nine for a few days and, when I fell, my husband had my favorite bottle of wine and cookies, with a delicate tiny card waiting for me when I got home.
How do you know you are experiencing the highs if you never experience the lows? How do you learn and grow when life is on autopilot? You don’t.
So, cheers! I’ll enjoy this delicious glass of red and my stroopwaffel is with my cat on my lap, knowing that I’m prepared for whatever tomorrow throws my way.
Author: Krista Kelly
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Travis May
Copy Editor: Callie Rushton
Social Editor: Lieselle Davidson