From Thursday evening...
It’s hard to remember much of what’s been boinking around
the insides of my head for the past two hours, but I am determined to write it
down before I make dinner. So here we
go:
Today, I called and apologized to my boss for not being
forthcoming with what’s been going on with me lately. Truly, it’s not his business, but I haven’t
been myself and what’s worse is that I’ve been fudging the truth. Much worse.
I’d rather be anything but a liar, so I explained to him why I’ve had to
turn myself back right-side out. See,
it’s never been diagnosed or medicated, but I’ve battled depression before, and
after recent unrest in our company which caused a handful of us to move in a
different direction, I’ve found myself not moving much at all. I’m not running away from anything, but
neither am I running toward anything, and that really doesn’t help. But my rationalization (and am I ever good at
that when I want to be!) was that I wasn’t doing any damage this way, standing
still, whereas moving the wrong way could actually make things worse.
Right. Worse
how? What was I afraid of? There was no deep water, I don’t have an
issue with storms or spiders or the dark.
I’ve been through childbirth, tornadoes, severe back pain, abuse,
copperheads, seizures and acne I can’t control.
Hmm. But I wanted to be ‘safe’
from some unknown demon or other, which is what slowly let me know that the
depression was beginning to control things again. I told my manager originally that I was
getting rid of all excuses for not diving in and beating this down, and I did
see the bottom of my hamper for the first time in almost six months, but there
was more to it than that. I was so used
to my best not being good enough that I wasn’t pushing like I knew I could
anymore. I was tired of the greed above
me and refused to contribute to it. I
failed to remember in all of this that the only one I was really hurting was
myself. Michigan accounts were good
income, but really? How much more could
I take of driving five hours before I even started working for the day? And the physical exhaustion of choosing that
to avoid the other made things worse.
Once again, I was getting too good at focusing on others
and helping them, ignoring myself, and when I had to tackle my own projects
again, I focused on one thing: a half a tank of gas. I was ready to go out and do something simple
for work and I felt compelled to go see how much money I had to buy gas with,
even though I was pretty sure I knew.
And once I got inside, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the
car. It was paralyzing. I can’t use that much gas, I told
myself. I went nowhere for several days…
hence the high volume of laundry. And my
apology to my manager involved telling him that I should’ve trusted him when he
said that things were going to end up okay, because they always had, and he had
good plans. He’d never failed me yet,
and I should’ve trusted.
I should’ve trusted myself.
I saw a post during one day of doing nada but computer
crap. It said that it was time get out
of bed, dig in your heels and empty your cup of crap so that it could be filled
with good things. It had a prayer asking
God to go ahead and do the good things that had been promised, because the time
had come to stop denying that it could really happen.
That was it. I
looked down at the workout clothes I had slept in and got up, pulling on my
running shoes. Enough. Physical activity will help, so help me, even
if it kills me, and without even putting in contacts, I went to run. I ran until it hurt and kept going. I slowed to a walk out of sheer physical
necessity and kept stumbling forward until I got to a cornfield. It was unplowed yet, but under my feet were
tiny corn shoots. What the hell?
Then I realized (once oxygen once again made it to my
brain) that last year had seen a few cobs half eaten by raccoons that had
floated along the swampy, flooded field, and that some of them had done what
farmers call ‘going to seed’. They were
defiantly poking their heads up, and didn’t care that the forthcoming plow was
going to obliterate them. This was their
day in the sun, damn it. And maybe I
needed to be more like those seedlings.
No. I need to be
more like the field. Oh, hell no.
There have been enough things that have happened to me in
my short life so far that being willing to lie still and wait for the plow
isn’t a strong suit of mine. I want
action, but if I depend only on the remnants of last year’s throwaways, I won’t
have enough to sustain anyone except the raccoons that left the half eaten cobs
in the first place. As I began running
again, I could feel the strength the earth under my feet had, pulsing like a
wild animal. At once I both craved it
and shunned it. The earth has energy,
and it’s out there for the taking, as long as a person is ready to channel it
properly. The universe is generous, but
only if you are an open and willing recipient… the cup has to be empty to be
filled with good things. You have to
trust that those you have never failed you will not fail you now, and that you
are strong enough to handle anything, and I mean anything, that is given to
you. Because, you see, I have never
doubted that I was competent to handle the crap flung at me by the other
monkeys. Bring it on. I am Sisyphus, mighty enough to roll a giant
boulder to the top of a hill. I’ve got
the push and rest and shove down pat.
But suddenly as I slowed to a walk again, feeling my racing heart trying
to beat its way out my temples, I wondered if he let it roll back down on
purpose each time. What if you have no
idea how to handle the good because you have handled so much bad that you don’t
know any other way? My mind screams
‘selfish!’ when I dare to think of something for myself now that I am healed
from some of the things I’ve recently brought myself through. Is it wrong to keep taking the good things
that are given freely?
So after a shower and two bottles of Gatorade, I sit and
decide on an answer. I must be the
field. The energy I need to succeed is
out there and I can feel it, sometimes literally, but I have refused it, not
wanting to throw myself into that river.
But what I do is a good thing, of that I have no doubt, and therefore
sharing it is also a good thing. I might
make it at this.
Really?
I was paralyzed because I figured if I went nowhere, it
was to be expected. There was nothing
supporting me, except me. Who can do
that? Well, we shall see. Because the far more frightening prospect is
true success. If failure is entirely my
fault, then so is knocking it out of the park.
Does that mean that more will be expected of me from then on? Damn skippy it does, and maybe that is the
real problem. The lingering ghost of the
man who thought my best was never good enough had come to hover over my head,
telling me that even if I did better than I’d ever done before, someone was
going to ask me to juggle another ball with the ones already in the air.
But if the one doing the asking is me… I can stop asking
when it’s enough. I can receive the
gifts that are out there, because I’m NOT the selfish one, and I can give the
extra to those I choose to help, like I do now.
I can do this. And by ‘this’, I
don’t mean be awesome, I mean actually allow the awesomeness to flow through
me. I’m ready for the plow. Usually I’m reluctant to let anything or
anyone use me, but this is different.
This time, it’s the only way. So
I pick one foot up, and put it down, something to stand on as I lift the other
foot. Not running away, or toward
anything. Just running, and letting the
road unfold beneath me. For once, the
exception has become the rule, the I will keep pace and trust that the earth
beneath my feet knows where I’m supposed to go.
Because it does.
