I am surrounded by more illness, more confusion, more pain, more frantic phone calls, more mixed messages, more drama about unrelated issues regarding a variety of people in my family at one time than I can ever remember.
In the midst of all this insanity, I can say with relief none of it is mine. I’m actually ok. I occasionally feel glimmers of panic, of being overwhelmed but the meds keep me from spiraling out of control. Or perhaps, I keep myself calmer—the meds just help me be in a place where I can do that.
I don’t know. But I am grateful.
Yesterday, my yoga teacher talked a bit about her family at the beginning of class and that as she’s getting older, she’s railing against the negativity and fear that’s the basis of her upbringing. I had to laugh, as that’s exactly how I was brought up. Waiting for the other shoe to fall, for bad things to happen, for the inevitable illness and misery to arrive. Because, of course, it would.
It’s almost impossible for me not to fall back into that familiar discomfort. And yet, I fight it. I think perhaps that’s what getting this new puppy is—being present in the moment to experience joy and happiness instead of letting my head spin out of control. Perhaps all this time and energy expended is my way of protecting myself from slipping off the edge of the cliff that’s calling to me. It’s a constructive way of avoiding the downward spiral.
The puppy is my new project. Ah. I just figured it out. I can’t seem to write a book right now, for whatever reason, but I needed something to help me hold it together. She’s it. And what a delicious, love-filled way to heal, not just me, but everyone who let’s her in for a moment or two.
I wish for all the people around me who are struggling that there was less. Less heartache. Less hurt. Less spin. Less blame. Less doubt. Less judgment. Less suffering.
More acceptance. More tolerance.
It's not impossible to find this place. But it's pretty damn hard sometimes.