The Novel Coronavirus and YOU: Let’s Spread LOVE

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It’s been only a few short weeks since I noticed a slight, then certain and sharp, “shift” in our mindset and optic. Two months ago, China’s outbreak seemed so distant to us. Somehow, we felt safe enough in our daily lives and routines to casually pass by or “tune out” the tragedy unfolding in what seemed, “worlds away”. For some of us, it captured our attention, but admittedly, it wasn’t necessarily on our daily phones or computer screens as it has become now, bookmarked, screen-shot, and often shared. In less than a month, we have become suspended in an unsafe and unstable space, collectively, turning to technology to connect us, to seek comfort, and to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

For me personally, I had just taken my first cruise on the Royal Princess to the Mexican Riviera just two short months ago in January. My ex-spouse and I, who both currently reside together in Los Angeles, joined his mom and sister, for a 7 day cruise, visiting three port cities. I certainly wasn’t thinking of a global pandemic then, as I milled about the ship, frequenting endless buffets, and betting into the wee hours in their casino. We crowded into elevators carrying over 20 people, easy: the old and young, with passengers representing all corners of the globe.

On the day of our return, mid-afternoon, Scott began to complain of not feeling well, we all assumed it might be the flu or a cold. I didn’t “shake or hug” his Mom or sister goodbye because they had spent time, earlier, closed up in a car, taking a scenic drive through Beverly Hills with him. I did not want to get sick. I had stayed home earlier, instead of joining them, because I was having “tummy troubles” and wanted to give Scott a few final hours to spend with his family before he dropped them off at the airport. Scott was fine earlier in the day when we disembarked from the ship, but when he came home from dropping them off at the airport, he headed straight to bed due to a fever so high that he later told me that he had hallucinated. His fever continued on and off for roughly three days and he developed a “barking” cough that he mentioned was not productive. I remember throwing him a pulse oximeter, keeping my distance, but wanting to make sure his oxygen levels weren’t dropping as he was coughing continually through the night. Although, he never complained of being “short of breath”, he did have high fevers, coughing, exhaustion, and towards the end, nausea and stomach issues. I  had stomach stuff on the day that we returned, but never came down with a fever or a cough. I remember feeling tired and “under the weather”, but nothing more. I had immediately implemented really strong “infection control” measures in the house, wiping everything down for about a week. Scott was never tested for the flu, and the virus had “not reached us yet”, but the symptoms he had resemble those of the new novel virus that we are facing today: Covid-19. Both his Mom and sister returned to TN and were sick with the same symptoms and, after it hanging on for awhile, it finally passed and they both recovered. His mother hung onto her cough for a long time. We all now wonder if we have in some way already experienced Covid-19, personally, in our lives. I guess, in time, they will be able to test people for exposure to see if the antibody is present in their blood. I have seen a lot of other posts from others on social media posing similar questions from an illness they had back in December or January. Could it be, this has been spreading for awhile now? So many unanswered questions.

In any case, so here we are, with many of us suspended in a state of uncertainty that is unsettling to most. There are always those who are young or who are not that concerned, but for most of us who have been watching the devastating scene play out in Italy, let’s face it, we are scared. I know that I am. I already live with C-PTSD, OCD, Bipolar 1, and anxiety/depression. The first few days of this were so surreal to me, I nearly thought that a recent medication change had brought on a delusional state. I had to ground myself by talking to others and reassure myself by again looking at social media and trusted news sources. Although, I can recall being briefed on a global pandemic back in the early 2000’s while working in healthcare, I had conveniently stuffed that scary possibility way back into the dark recesses of my mind. And now, as predicted long ago, here we are.

As most, I am feeling anxious and exhausted, concerned about the coming tough days ahead of us. My anxiety and body tension, as well as OCD, has escalated to the point that there have been moments I’ve had a tightened chest, body aches, and compulsions of checking my temperature. I try to take breaks from the news because my body tenses with the visual and auditory component as I easily absorb other people’s fear, sadness, and anxiety. Reading the news is easier than watching it or hearing it, for me. The sense of urgency and concern in people’s voices activates my PTSD and I want to “sound the alarms” and warn others of the inevitable reality that I feel will more than likely enfold over the coming days. Scott and I have just moved to the Los Angeles area and the news often makes me feel like “fleeing” the area as I feel the high density of people will mean an overburdened healthcare system and a deterioration of our “frontline” of responders and resources, all of which may lead to upended chaos in the city, even outbreaks of violence, I fear. Admittedly, I tend to catastrophize events and thus I am no stranger to the unsettling feeling of being upended by fear and panic. There have been many times that I have even tried to convince Scott that we should leave the area. I am hoping it doesn’t get “that bad”, but I am new to the area and we have no support here. It’s very hard, and at times, it terrifies me. We shall see what the coming days bring.

A crisis of this magnitude, surely brings us face to face with our own inevitable mortality, reminding us that our time here is brief and fleeting. We often hear that we should “live for today” and “cherish the moment” and yet it’s human nature to get easily distracted, wrapped up in our humanity of, sometimes, selfish behaviors that distance us from one another and even ourselves. Something as jarring and paralyzing as a global pandemic, has the potential to ground and connect us to the essence of life: connection to ourselves and to one another. In a very basic sense, we need one another. Right now, we need one another to practice “social distancing” so that we can “flatten the curve” sooner than later, slow the rate of infection, and allow the medical community to “catch up” and work to solve this global crisis. We’d like to think we are “alone”, but we are truly interdependent and the more of us that recognize that fact, the more successful we will be at lowering deaths and returning to a new normal. Hopefully a normal that is better in that we will be more “in tune” with the fact that we do all occupy the same space, planet earth, and we can collectively: “make a difference”.

People are dying and more will die from this epidemic, but we can slow the rate of death if we work together. Humanity, at its best, can be nearly miraculous! The capacity for humans to create and sustain order in the midst of what seems “chaotic”, demonstrates our collective power and potential. We honestly can change the course by adopting a “we” mentality, over a “me” one. The innovation that stems from humanity’s desire to survive and thrive knows no bounds. We are miraculous, beautiful, and amazing in our collective pursuit to persevere and protect LIFE. Take a moment right now to acknowledge the vast amount of newly acquired knowledge and routine that is being called on to preserve human life, the greatest gift we have. SIT, in the stillness that exists within yourself and draw upon the centuries of humanity that has given us so many gifts of art, music, architecture, science, etc. that which inspires us to celebrate the energy that resides within us. This love and need for love knows no bounds. We were born to care and to connect.

And so, when the fear and uncertainty of today leads you to paralysis, draw upon the life that exists within us, between us, outside of us, around us. Take a deep breath and acknowledge that humanity has always been challenged. It has always been a struggle and hard. Life has always included death and birth. Life is continual energy. If you don’t believe this, open your window for a day and listen to the energy “buzzing” that is created by humanity and the diverse biosphere that surrounds us, always. We are life. We are love. We are peace. We are the stillness that we seek. We are the comfort that shelters us. OUR potential is limitless and OUR energy boundless. And it exists in the present moment. None of us have ever known when our last breath might be. A global pandemic pulls us up and forces us to take notice, but the final destiny was predetermined as each life only takes so many breaths. We breathe in the same air, often unaware of it’s weightlessness and freedom. We take for granted ourselves and each other. That is part of the human experience and our imperfection. But, we have an opportunity to be renewed and awakened by this experience. We have a chance to act responsibly and save lives while doing so. These thoughts and longings to wake up and connect have always been there, perhaps this is mother earth’s way of nudging us.

I will tarry forward through the next few weeks and coming months in an uncertain haze. I will be fearful, and, at times, I will be brave. I’m praying for all of us to get through this and to come out on the other side of it changed for the better. It’s my hope anyway.

Stay safe, my friends. Stay healthy. And if the darkness comes, do not forget the light. This too shall pass. Love, comfort, and light to all.

I am love.

I am light.

I am peace.

I believe what we tell ourselves has the potential to expand in our lives, exponentially. Let’s spread LOVE.

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“My Desolate Sea” and The Gifts it Gave To Me

grayscale photo of person standing on seashore
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I am massaging the stillness that is ever present within my struggle. I am increasingly aware of its existence budding within me, no matter how much I distance myself from it when in pain or I dismiss its potential to heal me. The human mind, which is hard-wired for survival, is conditioned to attend to the habitual sound bites that often keep us contained in rituals of distraction and preoccupation. We continually get pulled into these weathered and worn spaces because familiarity feels safe. However, sometimes the hyper-vigilance and patterns that helped us survive in the past are the very patterns now responsible for denying us our freedom. Turning towards myself and sitting in the stillness, I am able to carefully untangle the knotted up yarn of my life that had once been seen as unmanageable.

Creating the space for the stillness to expand and evolve will more than likely be one of the greatest challenges of my life. And yet, I know that the gifts of doing so are beyond my current comprehension. Humility, self-love, forgiveness, compassion, peace, and joy are a few of the gifts that not only come from the release of attachment, but also offer emancipation from the self-imposed shackles that have limited my sense of freedom and my capacity to love. The realization that much of our suffering is “self-imposed” is what ultimately puts us in the driver’s seat and behind the steering wheel. The world will always offer displays of depravity and suffering, and yet, acceptance of that reality frees us from struggling against it. When you feel as if you are drowning, the best course of action is to acknowledge it, and surrender to the reality of “what is” by floating on top of the water saving your energy to tackle the next storm. Some waters are choppy and fierce. Your ability to submit to that reality by floating will be what empowers you in the end.

And, oh, how I have been struggling as of late, embracing the sorrows of the world! I’ve been fighting the waves, expending all my energy , swimming against the undertow. I cannot count the amount of times I’ve been washed up along the shore completely disoriented, humiliated, and in despair. And many times, I have been alone in the madness, often fighting with myself. I was doing anything and everything but floating!

The past few years of my life I fought tirelessly against several waves of loss that left me feeling broken and in despair. I had a life-long, good friend take her life, an entire family lost to addiction, and a loss of independence and employment due to struggling with a mental illness. Because I am stuck currently on Medicaid, I have struggled to get adequate medical care under a system that is incompetent and is ill-equipped to deal with the demands placed on it. On a larger scale, I am watching my divided country “duke it out” on social media while homeless people sleep on the cold, concrete streets of Los Angeles. It seems that the world is crumbling before me as people turn away from each other with professions of progressivism and purity. Humanity has its depravity, despite its immense capacity to heal itself. The reality that many turn away from one another instead of bending towards each other in times of crisis, intensifies the despair I feel on a daily basis.

Some people would suggest gratitude, distraction, or any other endeavor to cope with  feelings of hopelessness. I am trying acceptance and acknowledgement. I do, however, feel grateful for what this struggle is teaching me. Here, in the midst of chaos, I will share how my struggle has blessed me, in certain ways. I wish life had dealt me a different hand, but I know things could have been much worse. Life is difficult by nature. I will put my faith in floating. I am 47 and despite everything lost, it is time to “settle in” to this lifetime. It is passing and time waits for no one.

What my struggle has gifted to me:

  1. My mental illness of: Bipolar 1, PTSD, ADHD, Hyperawareness OCD has gifted me insight, sensitivity, persistence, and tenacity. Living with this struggle, and with the stigma of it, I have often been misunderstood. I have had to work harder to refine my ability to communicate to others my reality and struggle. I also have had to deal and cope with a fair amount of invalidation and discrimination, as well as dismissiveness from others, including places of employment. The pain from this was immeasurable, but it has left me with a desire to inform and educate.
  2. My experience of receiving SSDI and relying on social programs, like Medicaid, has been an eye opening and gut wrenching experience that has renewed my commitment and passion to serve those in need. I have felt powerless and vulnerable trying to get my healthcare needs met in a system that is utterly broken and incompetent. My heart breaks for those who are unable to advocate for themselves or who lack the stamina or health to get their needs met. The system is BRUTAL. I know in time I will be able to speak from a place of truth and experience when addressing these issues. No matter how hard this struggle has been for me, I have been granted the gift of lived experience. I don’t want this gift to go to waste and I hope to help others in time.
  3. The loss of family due to addiction, has made me more aware of the illness and the variables that often perpetuate it. I’ve learned a lot about self-forgiveness, compassion, and patience. I have gained more knowledge about the limitations of our current healthcare system in addressing the epidemic of addiction and what approaches might be more successful if implemented. I have also learned to surrender to what I am unable to personally control or change. It has been a long and difficult road, but I am slowly letting go of the notion that I might be able to make a difference. It has been my experience year after year with my family, that little has changed. Surrendering to “what is” and recognizing the limitation of my influence is a gift that hopefully will free me and one day help others.
  4. The loss of employment, due to my illness. has taught me the valuable lesson that I am not defined by my vocation. Learning to find value and identity in other endeavors outside of employment has allowed me to recreate my life in ways where all parts of myself are honored. It has made me realize how much our society ties our worth to our careers and how most of our time is absorbed by our experiences in employment. This space in my life where I have been disabled has again afforded me with the lived experience of directly interacting with governmental programs. Often, the experience has been devaluing and difficult. Still yet, I am grateful to have experienced what many of our citizens face, a harsh and inefficient system that is anything but personal and caring. This experience has made me motivated to be vocal in hopes that change will one day be on the horizon.
  5. Collectively, all of my experiences of loss have made me a stronger individual. I would like to think they have been preparing me for something larger in the end. We will see. In any case, the last decade it rained relentlessly without much of a break. My life seemed to fold in on me and I feared it would nearly collapse. I was suicidal for nearly three years. I hung on even when I believed there was no point to do so. And although, the rain still comes, I have realized that I am still here. Blood is still pumping through my veins and I am still able to do so many of the things I value. Despite, the many stories of heartbreak that I could share, I am still here, standing. I have a lot to write because many of my stories are actually very similar to the heartbreak of others. Many of us have lived with the beast of addiction either personally or in our families, many have suffered with a mental illness or a disability, many have been devastated by a job loss, many have experienced abuse in their relationship with a partner, many have lived through poverty….. And, many of us have felt utterly alone in our experiences. We are not alone. My experiences of loss have gifted me with the strength and passion to share with others. Let us be the light for one another.

There was a time in my life when depression had swallowed me whole. I remember a time not too long ago when I was in an abusive relationship where my partner continually communicated to me that I wasn’t “good enough” to commit to “yet”. He wasn’t sure if I was “worth it”, he stated. I stayed on trying to prove my worth to him because I did not believe yet in my own worth. I was seeking his approval. Leaving him  was one of the first steps I took towards myself. I wrote the poem below titled “The Desolate Sea” during the days when I was fighting to be “seen” by him .

Oddly enough, the losses I experienced forced me to turn inward and evaluate myself. In doing so, I began cultivating self-compassion for my flaws and celebrating the essence of myself: the things that made me “beam” with joy. Over the last year or so, I sought solace in nature, often marveling at the beautiful mess of the forest, its lush ferns and mossy limbs covering every inch before me in a frenzied and chaotic fashion. There were broken and decaying limbs on the forest floor where large evergreen trees towered over, hosting a few birds in their lovely branches. It was all of this new life coexisting with the old and decaying that helped me embrace my own beautiful mess. There was no organization to the forest and it was still absolutely inspiring. It made me feel okay to have all of those parts, the old and new, coexisting inside of me and yet still feel purposeful and whole.

The following poem, “The Desolate Sea”, stems from one of the “parts” of me where I felt unloved and even, broken. I am including it in this post because I do feel we all have parts of ourselves that, at times, can be self-loathing or even full of insecurity. I’ve grown a lot from that time in my life. The losses in my life have helped me to see the essence of myself from being stripped of so much. Life can be lonely and there may be periods where we isolate from others and feel that no one can relate to our struggle. Life is difficult for everyone by its very nature. My poem, written in the days when I was desperately seeking the validation from my ex, demonstrates that life eventually moves forward. Tough times often result in growth! It also reveals that what I accepted in the past, is not what I would ever accept today, or in the future. The struggle of life is real, while the embracing of the self can be a continual gift. I hope you enjoy the poem. Wishing you light along your path!

My Desolate Sea

It’s difficult to say

No one loves me enough to stay

All wish to run away

 

Trouble finds me

Surrounds me

Binds me

 

I want nothing more

than to be set free

 

People misunderstand me

Loathe me,

Hide from me

 

Chances taken away

With each passing storm

 

Now the one I love

The one who I say

Was sent from above

 

My angel, My Lover

 

May turn and leave

 

I’m too heavy

Life is too short

And when their passing through

It’s me they’ll abort

 

For many years

This brought anger, hurt, tears

Now understanding and sadness,

Relinquishes my fears

 

I understand His Woes

His love caught in the undertoe

The massive destruction

Coming, blow by blow

 

As the relentless ocean

Raises it floor

With Sand and grit

It snarls and spits

Foaming once more

 

Soaking and drowning

Day by Day

How could I ask anyone to stay?

 

Too much, Too much

I understand

My heavy heart

Can see the untold plan

 

Grief that is intolerable

Difficult to bear

I stand there

I stand there

 

Each day, Each dark night

The waves are crashing with delight

And when the storm settles down

I can hear another, begin to crown

 

I try to stop them

With all my might

With words, with love

I stay, firm and fight

 

In the aftermath

It’s usually me

Left alone

In this desolate Sea

 

Pleading to be set free

Hoping this is not my eternity

 

Grandma’s Sugar Cookies

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If there is one recipe that I wish I could replicate with perfection, it would be my Grandma’s sugar cookies. Every year, when it comes time to “Hauling out the Holly”, I inevitably find myself thumbing through my Grandmother’s recipe box to retrieve the handwritten recipe of her infamous sugar cookies. Printed above, in shorthand, is the recipe, written in what seems to be haste, as she didn’t need the expanded instructions. This is a recipe that she could likely execute in her sleep. Years have gone by since my Grandmother’s passing and without the ability to ask her advice, I stumble along each year trying my best to recreate her “Christmas magic”. Some years I get closer than others in texture and flavor. It’s always fun trying and it keeps her memory alive and with me during the holiday season.

My Grandmother was a foster mother in the 70’s and 80’s and was known to many kids as “Mom”. When Christmas rolled around, my Grandmother often single handedly pulled off the magic and miracle of Christmas, not only the grandchildren in her life, but for her foster kids as well. Looking back now as an adult and remembering these special times, I get a little emotional at the love and work that was interwoven into each Christmas that passed at her home.

My Grandmother often had 15-17 foster kids in her care at one time. The regulations were very different back then and her home was always full of children from toddlers to teens. She lived in Florida and had a backyard with a pool and a small playground where hours were passed playing there. She also had a large playroom that was connected to the side of her home for when it stormed and we all needed to come inside for our safety. My sister and I lived behind her home until we moved when I was around six or seven years old. We stilled visited in the the Summers for an extended time, but Christmases were often spent in North Carolina after we moved away. The times spent at Grandmas were always a bit magical and my sister and I came to know many of the foster kids. Some were like cousins to us because they were with my grandmother for a few years and we had formed relationships with them. I still remember many of their names: Danny, Donna, Martha, Rosemary, Star, Kenny, Jimmy, Leroy, etc. Some of her foster children remained in contact with my grandmother even into their adult years.

When Christmas rolled around each year, I can vividly remember my Grandmother in her kitchen, forever baking, which was in the center of her home. Nearly every room lead to the kitchen and it had an opening where she could remain cooking, but still keep an eye on the kids in the living room. Every year my grandmother would fix 12 dozen, sugar cookies, and some years even more!! She would take up the space of the entire table and counters to place the cookies for cooling in preparation for icing and decorating them. And then she would sit down with her foster kids and many of her grandkids and decorate the cookies. It was a sight to be seen! What is even more amazing to me is after she moved to Tennessee to be closer to my mother and her great grandchildren, she continued the tradition of baking sugar cookies, ever single year for them. More than likely, she was decorating the sugar cookies for her great grandkids the year she passed away. The last Christmas I spent with her, I decorated a few cookies with her. If there is one space and time I could return to, it would be to sit with my grandmother once more and really be present in the magic she baked up with her sugar cookies. She probably never knew how much we loved her cookies and how they are part of her legacy of love. Inevitably every year, her sugar cookies are mentioned and someone laments how we can “never get them just like hers!”

Christmas morning was also a time of delight and magic at my grandmothers. She had a fenced in patio outside her home, and each year as my feet grew, I got a new pair of roller skates. So, did all the other kids! We also got dolls, art sets, coloring books, games, lite brights, slinkies, etc. Because she had so many kids in her home at one time, I kid you not, the presents were stacked as high as the Christmas tree and spilled out onto the floor. Everyone got gifts from Santa and the foster kids were shown the same love as her grandchildren. To all of us, it was pure magic! I regret never asking her as an adult how the heck she accomplished such a feat! Was it some of my Aunts, like Terri or Glena, who lived in the area, or my Mom, who assisted her in this yearly spectacular event? All the wrapping and stacking of the gifts? The elves were definitely busy at work, but who were the elves? Surely, it would be nearly impossible to pull off on her own! No less, every year she pulled off Christmas for a house full of nearly 20 kids and she was just the kind of person to not only “get the job done”, but revel in it. My heart swells thinking of the children she touched by giving them a normal and joyful Christmas.

And, so, today I will try again, Grandma, to make your sugar cookies. I will have in my hand the very recipe card that you one day sat down and so hurriedly wrote. And while I kneed the dough and roll it out, I will think of the work of your hands. I will remember you giving me instructions when I was a small young girl eager to help: “Let’s make the bells yellow! Use the red icing for Santa’s pants and here is black icing for his belt! The Stars can be yellow too and the Snowflakes, let’s do them in blue!”. And I wonder to myself now, how many people you have inspired to make sugar cookies! I’d give anything to sit down and decorate your cookies with you again. But, since I physically cannot, you will be with me today in thought and in spirit. I can’t wait to see how they turn out this year. God bless you Grandma for the special times and memories you have created. You are forever in my heart! 

Hope your season is full of merriment and magic! Sometimes the greatest joy is felt in the smallest of things, like the simple goodness of a sugar cookie! 

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Photo by Jonathan Meyer on Pexels.com

This is Our Time: Fast, Fleeting, and Magnificent

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This is our time. It will be fast and fleeting, yet magical and magnificent. We will always be moving about, passing by one another, while we occupy the greater space that holds us here with gravity. We were thrust here and pushed into the brightness, piercing the new air with the cry of a new born baby. Soon after, the process of imprinting began as the multiple layers of “our time” carved out an identity, giving our form meaning and definition. Unable to escape “our time”, we have moved through it, often embracing it as we stumble through life with discovery and delight.

This is our time. In this time of technology, information is shared instantly and in exponential quantities. Unlike in the past, we have a greater ability to connect with one another, and yet, this saturation and quality of connection is often times eroding relationships, leaving us feeling alienated and alone. Many of us living right now remember life without the use of a computer or cell phone. We reminisce of a life that was not digitized. Polaroid cameras, rotary phones, typewriters, 8 tracks, etc. are all things of the past, but still are very much alive in our collective memory. If were to take a snapshot of those living right now, some still with us can remember a time when they would gather around the radio in the evening for entertainment. Others will share they have never known life without the existence of a smart phone. In this same beautiful space, we have a young child singing “baby shark” while sitting on the lap of her great Grandfather who fought in WWII. And in this slice of life, we have a time that we can call “our own”. You and I are here, together, muddling through this thing called life.

In this time that is ours, we are alive and active, making history while altering the planet as we know it. Some of us will live quiet lives that may seem to go unnoticed. Others of us may influence our communities and impact the lives of those around us. And still yet, there will be the trailblazers whose existence shapes the zeitgeist of “our time”. Even so, as sure as our world turns and the sun rises and sets, it is “our time” to be alive, to breathe, to learn, and to love. And there is no other time for us, but right now, which is pregnant with possibility.

This is truly our time. As we dwell together under the starry skies, we’ll indulge in what the planet has to offer us in the way of natural wonders, culinary endeavors, and cultural practices. Many of us will venture outside of our comfort zones to explore lands that are foreign to us. In our limited time here together, we might sometimes take for granted the extensive and affordable ways in which we can travel. Some of us will travel extensively for work and/or pleasure and our appreciation for diversity among landscapes, culture, and people will grow, leading to a very rich life no matter our monetary worth.

During this time together on earth, we’ll experience heartache and disappointment. We will all start at different places with different experiences as well as different abilities and strengths. We may get swept up in activities or with people that take us away from ourselves, becoming lost. Some who lose their way will resurface after a steady climb into awareness, self forgiveness, and self love. There will be birthdays, marriages, births, and deaths. And during these times we will know joy, elation, contentment, pain, and possibly even suffering. We will, at times, feel alone and overwhelmed. We may fear death and getting older. And yet, in this time that we are here together, there will be times that we feel truly alive. In this space, when you and I are sharing the same air and earth, it will be our energy and endeavors that define “our time”. I’d like to think that in my lifetime people will turn towards one another with acknowledgement that we, “humanity”, are nothing short of amazing, possessing the potential to connect in endless ways. I believe this is already occurring in less organized ways on various social media sites, but feel we are really just now embarking on this journey of increased awareness and connection.

The desire of humanity to connect is what is fueling so much of the development of technology. Interestingly enough, it has opened up a window for many to have a glimpse of the world, exposing people to different cultures and ideas. This can only bring us closer, providing people with the knowledge to break barriers and facilitate not only tolerance, but concern and caring. This level of exposure to one another and to other cultures around our world is defining us. It may be the perfect tool in time to harness the collective energy to care for our planet and the creatures that inhabit it.

This is OUR TIME! It’s going to go fast, I’m afraid. I’m nearly 47 and I’ll soon be sliding into my fifties like a baseball players slides into home base. I’ve been living it hard, making mistakes, and often becoming distracted. I feel like I’ve turned around once and here I am, older, with some back problems and less energetic than I used to be. I’ve lost loved ones, fallen in love a few times and have went through the painful process of letting go. I’ve turned inward, at times, in depression and tried to ignore the brutality of the world, sheltering myself from a few storms in my life. But, I’m still here, along with you and so many others and this is it!!

We have absolutely no choice in how we entered the world and we will not have a choice in how we leave it. Some do take their own lives, but it is my belief that to do so is part of an illness, not a choice. So, while we are here breathing, living, and loving, take time to feel the amazing energy and pulse that is US! It truly is OUR TIME and I hope one day before it is the end, I see you in passing, strolling about, tilting your head back in laughter, at your friend beside you. Maybe you are in that group posing in front of some national monument, trying to get the perfect selfie. Or could that be you, a child jumping in the waves with delight? Or the older couple, holding hands on a park bench? I believe it is all of us. We are more alike than different, and it is OUR TIME. I hope you are enjoying it!

HAMLET

What piece of work is a man, how noble in reason,
how infinite in faculties, in form and moving,
how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension,
how like a god!

~William Shakespeare

The Forest Within: The Gentle Giants will Heal You

bright daylight environment forest
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Today, I found myself walking in the forest. The familiar path I took is well worn as a result of receiving quite a bit of traffic from families, dogs, bikers, and occasionally horses. My dog, Gracie, and I traveled often alone today as the weather was damp and cool. We only passed a few others along our journey. Gracie was free to roam off-leash and was often engrossed in sniffing the forest floor or finding a stick to chew. She was completely occupied and appeared happy and content.

I made a sustained effort to be mindful during my walk by fully attending to the depth of the surrounding forest while at the same time opening my senses to embrace the present moment. What happened pleasantly surprised me. For a time, it was as if the path had actually disappeared. My focus had rested on the looming giants of the forest and the spaces surrounding them. The density of the forest nearly caught me off guard and was a bit disorienting at first. I had always narrowed my attention to the path before me. When I shifted to the tall trees and the spaces in between them, I was able to see so much more of the forest. I noticed the spaces between the branches and how solid and strong the trunk truly must be. The forest floor was covered with pines and debris, often from a fallen branch or two in a distant, past wind storm. There were trees down and hollow trunks that seemed to be old and decaying. My pup would often interrupt my concentration by playfully climbing on a log or finding a stick to chew. A few times, I’d have to call her as she had disappeared, more than likely searching for a rabbit or two.

I got halfway through the walk and it dawned on me how much I had healed here in this forest and continue to do so. I have always felt that the forest can hold my grief and absorb my pain. There is so much space and depth within the forest that any amount of emotion can be released and let go there. A forest is the perfect combination of decay and growth, simultaneously. And, upon further thought and reflection, both are needed to evolve. This reminded me that all of the pain and hardship in my life, from mistakes to disappointments, have their place in my life. The forest is often messy with brush, scattered branches, and even downed trees, but this doesn’t make it any less beautiful or captivating. Each tree, standing tall, is alone and separate from the others, but is frequented with many visitors from squirrels to birds and even insects. Storms come and storms go. It rains heavily and sometimes a light mist hugs the giant firs. And then, there are the days of sun and warmth. In the Winter, the branches become heavy with snow. Out in the elements, the trees are vulnerable, but on most occasions unless there is a tragedy like a fire or a disease, these gentle giants carry on through the seasons reliably. Life moves in and around them and they adapt and change, letting go of the life that inhabits them and remaining grounded by their roots.

I was feeling quite at home there in the forest today. It dawned on me that I had found my stillness again. I knew that this experience was trying to teach me something. Perhaps, I could be like the gentle giant. Life will stop in and pass through, but I was not to cling to it. Maybe I am also to value the messiness of life that contains the parts of myself that are decaying so that new growth can occur. This was a reminder to not devalue the decay, but honor it as it is also part of the beautiful mess that has made me. Looking around this beautiful dense forest, it seemed actually more mesmerizing with both the large looming trees and the downed logs on the ground. How could I view the old and new, together, as less somehow?  Immediately, more compassion came to the surface. How could I devalue the struggle and the “downed logs” of my life that made me? Perhaps, my mess could also be beautiful in ways.

I began to admire the trees for being so rooted and grounded. Their strength and separateness made me feel a lot less lonely and isolated. And at this moment in time, I was part of their reality, a passerby perhaps altering the forest in a tiny way.

There is and always has been immense healing for me in the forest. It has made me realize how we are all interconnected and that nature and life in all forms depend on each other for sustainability. We all are sharing the same oxygen. I feel more tuned in when I walk through the forest and I always gain something from the experience. Sometimes, ironically enough, a walk, all alone through the forest, is what you need to connect to yourself and others. Enjoy the forest, my friends, it will heal you!

Waiting No More: It’s Time to Drive!

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I’ve spent a lot of time waiting.

I’ve been restless, at times, desperately desiring to be completely satiated, longing for validation and visibility.

I waited a whole decade consumed by the desire to be passionately loved. I gave every ounce of my being to this fruitless pursuit, determined that one day it would yield the commitment desired from this individual. The commitment never came. In fact, the more I pursued and pushed, the more I lost myself. Losing him was letting go of the long held belief that I wasn’t good enough.

I waited for several years for a sincere apology and a gesture from a family member that communicated reconciliation was desired. I waited for certain family members to heal and recover from their addiction enough so that they could not only care about themselves, but they also could care about and connect with me. I waited years while we argued, knowing that the arguing was all that I had left. There was no true desire from them to know me or connect with me. I waited for years, grieving, often raging and demanding change. I only ended up alone and alienated. Little has changed in their behavior which has landed some of them permanently disabled, while others, potentially facing jail. I still am grieving, but I have given up on “waiting”.

I waited many years for my career to “take off”. I waited for someone out there to reward my hard work, experiences, education, etc. In the last decade, my work potential has been overshadowed by my disability of Bipolar 1, ADHD, and C-PTSD. Working with a disability complicated things and has temporarily placed my career goals “on hold”. I am currently not employed. I waited to land that “awesome job” and when I did finally achieve that goal, it was quickly thwarted by my disability. I got sick with several respiratory illnesses and was prescribed prednisone, a steroid, that inevitably caused a mania. I requested accommodations and then took a medical leave. When I returned from the medical leave, which was actually encouraged by my supervisor, I was terminated from my job without the opportunity to work with accommodations in place. I was devastated and have still not bounced back from the discrimination I endured. I waited for years to find the job that would provide security and pay well and as soon as I found it, I lost it.

I waited many years to be free from anxiety and depression. I thought perhaps a combination of therapy and medications would one day set me free from my struggle. I am still waiting on my complete freedom from the symptoms I have endured related to my disability. I am still not completely free from certain habits and symptoms stemming from trauma that I have experienced in this lifetime.

I have had an unraveling of sorts in this lifetime: failed marriage, failed career, failed engagement, a loss of family, a loss of employment, and the inability to have children. I have lived with a mental illness that often has stripped me of my dignity and distanced me from others. I isolate a lot because interacting with others can be difficult especially if I am working. When I did work, it took all my energy, leaving me feeling depleted. It was during these times I really needed the safety net and support of family and a solid relationship. Instead, as I struggled to maintain work I was often drained further by having to fight for love from my family and my partner. I was fortunate to have the support of my ex-spouse in the process and my mother. Still yet, I often felt overwhelmed and alone. I had waited a very long time for something to “work out” and I felt “let down” by the world. I was deeply depressed and this went on for a very long time.

In losing so much, I discovered that I was left with me. Over time I have let go of what was making me “hard” and I am now peeling off the layers that have hardened me. I’m exposing my fleshy fruit, my essence raw and vulnerable.

I don’t currently have a job. I’m single and living with my ex-spouse for support. I don’t have a home. My bank account is empty. My family relations are strained and I primarily am only connected to my mother, my step-father has never been too involved and my sister and her adult kids are all estranged from me due to the conflicts and chaos that  addiction has caused. My ex-spouse is a great friend and support. And, I have my dog, Gracie, who is very loving.

Losing so much is teaching me to be more humble and to appreciate what I do have, not just in possessions, but in talents, skills, and experiences. I’ve been stripped from what I felt was needed to feel valued and visible. I’m learning to define my self worth, not by the expectations placed from society, but more on the intangibles that define me.

I waited for years for someone or something to “show up” for me. I watched while others got married, had careers, and shared photos of their cute kids on Facebook. In ways, everything I had longed for was perpetually being displayed by others. I wasn’t jealous of their good fortune, but I often wondered why things had not worked out for me. In the end, it wasn’t in the cards. This is what I am learning to accept and in doing so I am slowly opening up the world that is mine. I am no longer grieving what I never had or lost. Instead, I am accepting the hand I was dealt, with curiosity, and am ready to discover this world embracing my reality wholeheartedly. I have always acknowledged some of the blessings that being single with no children has afforded, like ample time to travel and engage in leisure pursuits that I enjoy.

I have decided I am tired of “waiting”. I am letting go of all the people and things that were keeping me stuck. I am showing up for myself. I’m determined to awaken to the present and accept with grace and gratitude each moment. I sincerely want to fill the space that is mine.

It’s odd to think that in losing so much, that I am actually finding myself. This fills me with excitement and joy because I know it is what I have been searching for my entire life. I know intuitively that this is the greatest gift with the most returns. Investing in myself will only yield positive results.

I have so much more work to do, but now I have the right person in the driver seat, ME!! I’m not waiting around for others to call the shots or to determine my emotional state for the day. I genuinely want to be happy and want to be responsible for my happiness. I realize I will struggle from time to time, but healing is happening and I am grateful!!

 

 

 

 

2019: Taking Responsibility, Taking Flight!

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In this post, I am piggybacking off of my last entry where someone left a comment that has left me thinking.

I was writing from a place of pain, sharing my deepest heartache of having to let go and walk away from my family. I went back into the fire recently and was burned badly again. It truly feels to me to be an act of self preservation and love to cut ties and let go. I have been suffering for a few years now, becoming too wrapped up in a situation that was truly outside of my control. It has left me exhausted, depressed, and sick.

In response to what I wrote, GROG (grogalot.wordpress.com) left the comment: “But we must learn to live in the present and realize that change is possible. It has a lot to do with taking responsibility”. The sentiment shared here stayed with me today and continued to resurface. Something in the words demanded my attention. I rolled the word “responsibility” around in my mouth, tasting its rich, yet raw flavor. This bite that I willingly chewed and lingered over all day had sustenance.

Earlier today, I let go of the reigns at various points again, engaging in a conversation that I knew would create emotional instability for me. Why have I continued in the same habitual way when I can clearly see that nothing changes when I do so? Realizing the pattern is one accomplishment, believing that one can change or be completely free of the pattern is another. So many times in the past I felt it was an impossible feat to change. I desperately longed to be “free”, I just didn’t see that the door of my “cage’ was open. I wrote nearly a month ago that I had noticed with excitement and anticipation that the door was ajar and freedom was on the horizon. I had hoped to be flying soon! What happened? Did I become afraid and forget that my wings would indeed carry me?

We must “realize that change is possible” and that it “has a lot to do with taking responsibility” (GROG). And therein lies the “meat” of the meal. The belief that you can indeed, fly, and then actually be doing so. Responsibility implies taking ownership.

Responsibility is also about taking control of one’s responses. I feel this is where I have continued to get stuck. There are brutal and ugly realities outside of my control that I have let dominate my thoughts and energies. Yes, there are heavy and serious situations that any normal person would worry about, still yet, my response has been all too consuming and my life, as a result, has spun out of control. The worry and concern in my heart was, and still is, very justified. I feel someone in my family eventually is going to die from the disease of addiction. And yet, I refused to build parameters around what I could realistically contribute. I had abandoned myself in the process and when the ship continued to sink, I blamed others for not being there for me. Sadly, they are all sick. I need to be there for myself. I need to take “responsibility” for myself, in all ways.

I’m thankful for these words. They are so needed and they are “on point”. In the center of it all is my lack of self care and concern. I do feel I am healing and I long to taste complete freedom where I am immersed in the present, enjoying life. When tragedy comes, as it will from time to time, I must take care with my responses to things. In the end, that is where change truly occurs: in one’s ability to take responsibility over their life in all ways.

All of this struck a chord inside me today. If I am honest with myself, I have not been taking ownership of my life. I have been caught up in my cage that was created by the trauma I endured. I’ve been swinging alone, being drenched in the rain, and singing a soliloquy. I’ve been truly sad. The holiday season triggered me and I went right back into the cage and locked the door, nearly throwing away the key. However, GROG is right, I must believe I can change… “The door is ajar, remember”! And then I must take flight and do what is necessary to keep flying, even soaring, at times, eyes open, and embracing the moment.

The year is now 2019. There IS no other time like the present to fly! And even to soar! I am going to take myself there because I can. And, it is only I that can do so. This year is THE year. And, I am so very grateful to be here in this space and ready. In the past, I would have gotten defensive and perhaps would have taken things in the wrong way. I have grown and I want to go further. I’m going to carry this advice with me along the way so that I can remind myself when I get lost or afraid.

Be present. Believe that change is possible. Take ownership of every area of your life. AND TAKE FLIGHT!

Happy New Year Everyone! 2019  

Making Snow Angels: Forgiveness and Freedom

baby beanie child childhood
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Please, stop the rain.

Turn these heavy, wet drops into snowflakes, blanketing the muddy and messy mistakes of life.

If it’s going to be a cold day, at least lighten my step with a lovely snow. Frame the chill with beautiful evergreen trees, heavy with the snow that the branches lovingly hold.

Once the rain turns to snow, I become like a kid, giddy, and trusting the process, embracing the world once again.

I’m surrounded by falling snow like a figurine, suspended, in a snow globe. I’m no longer clenching fists and jaw and I relax a little, turning toward the gentleness of life. Everything takes on a new, fresh identity. Even the cold seems welcoming and joyful.

The stillness and softness of the snow unwinds my tensed up shoulders & body. I begin to forget the harsh cold and bitter rain. I’m suspended in softness that is serene and peaceful.

Please, stop the rain and make it snow. I’d like to fall into the snow packed ground, making angels, while grinning ear to ear, staring at the starry sky.

Let me be light, like a snowflake. I’ll slowly ride a current of wind to the surface, where I’ll gently land with all the others, blending and covering the forest floor. And in that space I’ll commune with millions of magic raindrops that have blanketed everything in our path, turning frowns into smiles that erupt often, into laughter that playfully cuts into the cold, still night. Some will glide effortlessly along our surface with sleds and skis while others will watch from frosted window panes, mesmerized by our glorious ability to transform a dismal day of rain to a masterpiece of raw beauty.

Let it snow and let me be light.

Take this rainy night and transform it into something snowy and bright.

While it falls and covers the exposed and hurting earth, let it hug the hurt in its completeness, leaving nothing untouched by it’s snowflakes that sparkle by moonlight, shimmering like diamonds.

I’m falling back into you, making angels, and catching snowflakes on my tongue. I’m forgetting that I’m no longer a child and instead twirling, eyes wide open, taking you in completely, laughing joyfully. No one is with me in this space of snow and self forgiveness.

You’ve reminded me once again with your dramatic entrance that everything can change in an instant and it can be magical and transforming. You’ll soon be gone, but I’ve taken a recharge from you. It’s another reminder to let go and be light. Twirl and laugh more often. Even if you are alone in the cold and still night.

In all the storms I’ve weathered, I embrace a snowstorm with excitement and adventure.

So, let it snow. Let it be a blizzard. Let it blanket the earth in forgiveness, melting away grief and sadness when it exits in warmth.

Welcome Winter, I hope there is a snow storm brewing. I’m waiting in joyful anticipation. Let it snow.

Please, stop the rain.

Tinsel, Treasures, and Toyland: Christmas Memories

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It’s Christmas.

I admit, I haven’t been as present as I would like to be. I’ve been pulled emotionally into familiar spaces, lamenting the loss of loved ones: those who are no longer living and those who are too distant to allow connection. At times, I’m swept up in grief which leads to isolation due to my angry and embittered tongue. The noise of life, its complexities, and heartaches entrap me. Still yet, there is life, light, and peace expanding around me. I often feel guilty for this newly discovered joy that continues to blossom despite the chaos that enfolds personally in my life and on the global stage. Life is messy, hard, and heartbreaking at times. Christmas is soft, beautiful, and peaceful. The contrast has captured my spirit, leaving me longing for acceptance of “what is” while increasing opportunities for joy and peace.

The holidays have a way of leaving you longing for more, desiring the magic and intensity of when you first experienced them. As a child, you were mesmerized by the sights and sounds of the seasons and protected from much of the harshness outside the season. I can remember sitting in the dark with only the Christmas tree lights, listening to Doris Day singing Toyland and other captivating tunes. The lights twinkled and I was completely absorbed in the present moment. Christmas parties meant delicious goodies from lemon bars caked in powdered sugar to cheese balls covered in nuts with fancy crackers. My senses were often overloaded as I gazed upon the decorations of the Season, my favorite being brass angel chimes with candles. It was all magical to me at the time. The presents, the lights, the music, and the cheer made for an exhilarating, exciting time. I was never once disappointed at Christmas. As an adult, I realize now that the world was spinning the same then as it does now, but my parents had protected me from ever seeing their exhaustion or worry. It is a blessing I am eternally grateful for having received.

I continue to embrace the season with excitement, but often get pulled into the struggle of life. I’d like to let go this season and embrace the child who was captivated and full.

I miss my Grandmother and her huge heart during the Christmas season. She was a foster parent and she ensured all the children in her care had gifts to open up Christmas morning. I will never know how she did it as I never asked her. But, she’d make 12 dozen or more sugar cookies and decorate them all! All the presents were wrapped and under the tree when Christmas morning came. Often there were so many gifts that they’d spill out filling the whole room and were stacked up behind the tree, taller than her. It was a magical sight to see! She usually had 15 children or more in her care and she made sure each child, big or small, got presents from Santa. I can remember most of the kids, including myself, getting roller skates! She lived in Florida and had an outdoor patio where we would skate all day outside when it wasn’t storming or raining. These memories are so long ago that they are faint, but still near and dear to my heart. She always loved Christmas, and since she has been gone we all try to make her sugar cookies, but they never turn out just like her cookies did. I’ll be making a batch soon, hoping to get close to her magical sugar cookies!

My mother continued the tradition of big Christmases with lots of gifts and treats. Our family grew up in the Lutheran church and Christmas Eve always meant going to the midnight candlelight service. The end of the service was beautiful as we each held a lit candle singing silent night among other carols. We would head home and I would often jump into bed with my older sister and try to sleep a wink. LOL. I was always the early riser, sometimes getting up by 4 or 5 eager to see what Santa brought! Looking back I really don’t see how my Mom and Dad didn’t want to kill me for waking them when they probably had just fell asleep!  I’d run out to the Christmas tree and scout out any unwrapped gifts. I’d go back and let my sister know what was left out, unwrapped. One special year, I remember being delighted to get a shiny, new Schwinn bike. A stuffed snoopy was sitting nearby and my sisters stereo also was left out, unwrapped. I was my big sister’s informant and she often rolled over, still sleepy, encouraging me to stay in bed. I’m forever grateful for my parents for letting me be a kid, excited and eager, often unable to wait to tear into the presents.

Writing this has left me in a treasured space. I don’t have children and am currently estranged from my sister and her adult children. It’s hard, but it is “what is” for now. I have been struggling to accept where things have landed and writing about these beautiful, treasured memories fills me with joy and peace. I will always be eternally grateful for parents who not only allowed me to “be a kid”, but actively ensured each Christmas was joyful and happy. They should feel full for the memories they created every year without fail. They were such special times and I felt very loved and cared for during the season. I was oblivious to any care or concern they might have had and they both worked, my Mom often working nights, even at Christmas, as she is a nurse. I know they were often exhausted and I was a burst of excitement and anticipation. They never acted annoyed or tired. It is a true gift in the end.

Writing this has renewed my spirit and inspired me. Often we forget and lose our way. I’m going to let go as much as I am able. I’m going to make some of my Grandma’s sugar cookies, go see the lights of the season, and listen to Doris Day’s, Toyland. It really doesn’t get any better that this! I’m feeling the spirit now! Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you find the peace and joy inside of you!

“Morning Has Broken”: When Suffering Becomes a Blessing

Morning Has Broken
~Cat Stevens
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight
Mine is the morningBorn of the one light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise ev’ry morning
God’s recreation of the new day
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world.

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WOW! Have you ever had one of those moments of clarity where you feel so centered and deeply rooted that it genuinely surprises you? Suddenly you’ve arrived at the summit, a little winded and a bit fatigued, but completely joyful as you fall into the present moment, free and fully satiated. Determined to savor this slice of bliss in its entirety, you scan the horizon, using all senses, desiring to retain as much of the landscape as humanly possible. These are the moments that define us, the ones we work and wait for, and the ones we reminisce about, often sharing the stories multiple times throughout our lives.
My milestone came to me late this evening in an ordinary way. I wasn’t climbing a mountain, giving birth, or competing in a race. I was actually drying off from a hot lavender soak in my small tub. LOL. It was at the end of another uneventful evening. Both my friend and I have been hacking away with colds that we got right before Thanksgiving. As I often do, I had spent time earlier loving on my pup, Gracie, and throwing her green, squeaky toy down the hall for her to chase. It didn’t seem like anything was brewing. It was a very uneventful, gray day with rain on and off and a high wind warning in effect. I only went out once all day to take my pup to the dog park as it was dismal outside. The Fall and Winter months in the Northwest can be trying for those who suffer with depression, it gets dark early and rains often.
So, yes! Back to my milestone! It was late and I had taken a bath and was drying off. And that’s when it hit me, like a ton of bricks. The type of bricks that you can use with mortar to build an intricate, yet solid, foundation. Yes! My building blocks that I have been unknowingly waiting on forever, have finally arrived. No one ever shared with me that things might just snap into focus one day to reassure me that I not only had everything needed for me to rebuild, but I’ve also been granted the time to do so.  And, if they had told me, they surely didn’t tell me that one of my defining moments, would be after a day of literally no consequence, after having taking a hot bath. By the way, I’ve always loved a hot bath. It seems fitting, in an odd, but lovely way.
I had spent time earlier today lamenting to others about how I had recently been denied my SSDI and SSI benefits. I’ve been advised by two of my providers to hold off on going back to work until I complete a program that will hopefully help me develop better skills to cope with the stress of work and relationships. I’ve not been working for nearly a year and a half due to increased episodes of mania and depression and a weakened immune system where I was getting sick too often. However, I am becoming increasingly restless to get well. I am hopeful one day to be well enough to work again and contribute to society, helping others heal. I have always been in positions where I have helped others, often in recreation programming serving seniors or disabled adults. It was a meaningful job and I miss it. Living without money and being dependent on others is also very difficult when you have been relatively independent for most of your life, often living alone. It’s been a huge transition.
And so, as I was drying off and searching for my glasses, and then, it hit me. I suddenly recalled how many times over the past several years my spirit pleaded for rest. “Lord, I am weary”. Let me rest.
The details of my struggle are too great to mention here. I’ve been suffering as a result of running from pain and as a natural consequence to experiencing some unfortunate stressful events that continued to keep me hooked in a downward spiral until I literally loss the ability to work.
I knew in an instant, standing there with bathroom towel surrounding me, that I had been granted everything I needed to heal. I had prayed to heal for years. When you are living with chronic pain and anxiety, healing becomes a priority. I would say to myself: “If I only had the time to take off of work to truly get well and get the help I need”. Often these prayers were uttered while laying on wrinkled, warm sheets from tossing and turning throughout the night. The prayers were said when I had locked myself in the bathroom at work, pacing and trying yoga poses, to try and stop or prevent a panic attack. The prayers were uttered when I lost jobs and I was sobbing through broken tears saying again: “If I only had the time to get well”. The prayers were uttered when I was alone and broken and in physical pain.
I never felt that I had time to relax, I was always running from one job to the next. I was running to save an unsalvageable relationship with a Narcissist. All the desperate endeavors were exhausting and led me farther away from myself and into suffering. I prayed, read devotionals, sobbed, and hurt both physically and emotionally. I just did not know a way out yet.
The last couple of weeks I’ve been sulking, unhappy. I wanted to have more money. I’ve been too broke to go out and buy myself a coffee. My attention was gently drawn to the fact that I have two people helping me currently, my Mom and my ex-Spouse. I was reminded of my warm home with all my belongings. I already have two, not just one, Christmas trees up for the holidays. I actually have no money in savings, but I have people who are here for me and they are willing to help me as much as they can. My housing is provided for as I live with my ex-spouse currently and my mother pays for my car payment. My ex rents and we just recently moved into a two bedroom where we have more space. I have more than many and less than many. I actually have everything I need at the moment.
As I was doing this inventory in my head while drying off with my towel, I acknowledged that I really am ok. This is when it hit me like “a ton of bricks” that my prayers had been answered. I knew instantly that I had been granted the time and the help to truly rebuild my life. And now, I also possess the knowledge and know-how to not just build a flimsy structure, this time it would be an ornate castle of sorts where every stone placed will have been passed through my hand. It would be my design.
If I had not been through the struggle, I am certain now that I may not have understood the importance of rebuilding my life with each brick being bound by the mortar of “self love”. In the suffering, I was able to dismantle the cage and unravel the parts of me that needed inspection. The suffering had convinced me that change was definitely necessary. I remained frozen for awhile when the archaic structure fell to the ground.
And so, I am standing at the summit tonight! I’m looking forward to rebuilding so that I can reach even greater heights. But, for now, I will sit here and relish in the moment of receiving a true gift, time. I have been given exactly what my spirited needs. I have the space, the support, and the time to complete a treatment program and to do what is needed to be in a healthier state both mentally and physically. I was too busy surveying the loss to celebrate the victory. And now, I know better.