I sit here in my backroom at the flower shop, a little bit anxious.  A lot bit anxious.  I can’t quite focus on any one project.  I drift back and forth from fresh to silk flower stems, organizing “stuff,” and doing deliveries.

The root of my anxiety lies in one very specific place.  I have the chance to sell the shop.  I’m going to take it.

A few months ago the shop’s listing expired.  I was denied disability for a second time and just felt that I had to put myself in the mental space of “I can” and decided that I would keep the shop and nourish it and watch it grow.

Out of nowhere, the opportunity to sell came up.  There is an appointment and documents are being drawn up and reviewed. This is legit.  So, I guess I’m frantically typing because I just need to let it out.  I am letting it out here verses on my FB feed because this whole post is so tender to my heart.

I finally feel like I am in my element with the shop.  I know where my leaks are and have a plan to fix a few of them.  I feel confident in how I design flowers, for the first time in my career of thirteen years.  I am so humbled at how much I have to learn and I am excited to learn it.  I have support from my family, friends, employees, and customers to continue living out the dream.

It is a blessing to have this gig.

Why would I give it up, right?

My body is tired.

As I type, I feel so sad and there are tears.

I am having fluctuating difficulties with my arms and legs due to Multiple Sclerosis.  It’s sometimes hard just to make one bouquet, much less a day’s work, or a holiday’s work.  I am learning to let my hired florist do her vibe and I am grateful for her efforts and for my work on not being a control freak.  It’s hard to let others do different than you and be okay with it.

A few weeks ago I had the most severe pain in my right leg – the day we chose to go shopping for the girls in the city.  I used my cane that day and I walked so slow.  It was scary.  It is hard to not wonder if this is permanent, if it is going to stop, if you will walk at all again tomorrow.

I am capturing every day as a “ticket.”  I get a 365 tickets a year, 28-31 a month, one a day.  A ticket to try.  I don’t want to waste my tickets.  What are they worth to me?

I can duplicate designed floral arrangements and make some of my own.  I know how flowers touch people’s lives.   I can start a flower shop anywhere on the planet with the skills I’ve learned.  Is that what I want and is that enough?  Is that what  I am called to do?

My favorite thing to craft above flowers is words.  I love to write.  I sense a shift in the trajectory my life to grip onto my gift of writing and leave my legacy in paragraphs instead of bouquets.  To really own what I can do with words, my perspective on life, and not fear the counter attack.

Man, it’s hard to walk away.

It’s such a mental battle.  I try to keep positive.  I am willing to admit that I am scared that I will let go of the shop and regret immensely what I had.  I was ready to do the whole “I can” thing and then the “this is for the best” of selling comes up because my health could deteriorate.

The unknown of how the next few weeks will play out is stealing my peace and I  am thankful to have a place to express my anxiousness.

She is clothed in strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future, right?

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