It’s been waiting in that silent darkness where I trapped it with my will
By my need to survive, to seem strong and capable
To move on amongst the pain
To walk along the eggshells of my life.
The sobs stay trapped, inside of me.
Except when they transform into sickness
And work their way out as barf
Or catch me unawares and shake my body in the familiar way that reminds me of snot covered corners, of huddling under the blankets, of being told to stop my bawling…
I did
Now they stay bottled up inside. Deep down inside.
Except when they don’t.
Then, every gasping sob that comes out is coated in shame. Even when I’m mourning on behalf of others.
I cannot mourn my own loss. I must rationalize it away. It was not my loss. My brother in law was sick for so many years. It was a gradual loss. We knew the end would come. It would be welcome. It would finally be that which we dreaded. But it would finally be over. I cannot make the sadness wash over me, my loss. I lost a brother in law who was an awesome big brother to my husband. I can cry for my husband’s loss. I can cry for their parents’ loss. I can cry for my sisters in laws loss, and their brother, for my nephews’ loss of their father. But I cannot cry for me.
Sometimes success looks like a smashed cutting board
Who knew?
As we stared at the shattered cutting board, and I made sure nobody had gotten hurt, we all had the same idea. The older son put words to it, “Yes, I’ll get the Hoover but first, a picture.” (Hoover, for those of you unfamiliar with the term is used for all vacuum cleaners by some people, including, it turns out, some of my children.)
I knew the moment needed to be recorded, but my reason was likely different from that of my sons. I imagine they saw a beautiful shatter pattern and a crazy thing they’d never seen, a cutting board shattered by the impact of a knife. (And it kept cracking for several minutes: it was really phenomenal!!)
I, however, saw a moment of freedom from my normal startled reaction to loud noises and broken stuff. I felt a release from the temptation to yell at the one who had caused it. I was able to be present, to focus on what actually was important in that moment (that nobody got or gets hurt) & figure out what needed to happen next (the cleaning of the shattered glass, with nobody walking on it).
Cliché but true, no rainbow without rain
Without a potentially triggering event, I would not have known that my reaction could be so… grown up. I could be an adult, even if my kid willfully damaged something. (He was frustrated and chopping a bit, uh, energetically, because I asked him to chop the celeriac thinner for the recipe we were making.) I could have yelled at him. I could have cursed, screamed, all the things. But they would not have helped. Besides he didn’t intentionally break the cutting board. And maybe he learned to be more careful next time. Who knows?
Right on the edge, where our experience butts up against the unexplored, that’s where we grow best. Not in the familiar, nor in over our heads… No, it’s right here. On the edge.
A friend was recently telling me tales of her failure, how she knowsnot to say the thing, but says it anyway. I’m not convinced that’s failure. It really depends on what she does next. Sure, you cannot take words back once they leave your mouth. And there are plenty of things best left unsaid. But apologies are worth more than gold when correctly applied. Our kids can learn how to recover from their own similar mistakes with words. Our spouses and friends can see our humility when we apologize. And maybe, just maybe, we can learn not to say the thing the next time the opportunity arises? More than half the battle is the awareness NOT to say the thing. She’s on the right track, for sure!
*Whatever The Thing is varies for each of us. We’re meant to speak life, but it can be so tempting to say other things, unkind, untrue, unhelpful, etc.
Pain, it’s not always bad. It might mean we’re walking on beautiful seashells 😁
The next day I was bicycling. I’ve been gradually getting back into biking, after a more than 25 year break. So I’m trying to increase the intensity to build muscle and endurance, to up my cardiovascular strength, etc. I’d heard of interval training and how good it’s supposed to be for you. (HIIT, anyone?) So I try to apply that whenever the bike ride isn’t already kicking my butt.
Anyway, there I was, going up a hill that used to kick my butt all by itself, when I decided to apply a little interval training. Go really hard for 30 seconds to a minute, take it easier for a couple of minutes, repeat the process. Yeah, this is working. Oooh, wait this is killing me!! I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the top! Argh!! I’m a failure!
Yes, my mind went to what a failure I am, how I overdid it and now I can’t get up the hill, how badly I hurt and therefore how I’d botched it. That’s when I saw the parallel. NO, I’m not a, failure. I’m living in the growth zone, the place where what’s become easy for me meets where I want to go, who I’m becoming, who God created me to be. And this is success. With God I cannot fail!
Stay in the place of growth and see who you are becoming
I made this vase. It doesn’t hold water. Nor does it hold the flowers how I’d like it to. A learning process for vase shape and mixing different clays
elämänpuun lehti 