I've been angry lately - angry at my husband for making a choice that ultimately, was his to make - but it ends up affecting the entire family. And in the midst of his decision making, I've felt resentful, dismissed, and generally unhappy about the whole situation. I've been considering my responsibilities, my goals... It took me about three months to realize what I was mad about and voice it to him. The details that got me here are unimportant for the purposes of this particular rant - but it underlines a larger theme at work here. I've been thinking alot about what it means to be *happy* in life - what we're "entitled" to - what we're all doing here. It wraps around me in the night, stinging my eyes with hot tears of frustration and guilt and hope and dreaming. It curls my lip in a sneer when I think about certain things. My shoulders hurt from carrying this load. And I'm trying to figure out a way to set it down and leave it in the middle of the road.
As children we're told that we can be anything we want to be - we can do anything we put our minds to. In some frames, this is complete bullshit. I mean, really - think about the things we dream of "being" as children - astronauts, ballerinas, movie stars, professional sports players. Does anyone dream of being an office manager? No, not really. If you did, hey - good on you for setting your sights on an achievable target. I don't think that we're meant to just "be" our jobs. I look at my life, with all the nuances and facets - and I want everything to be balanced and in harmony. But the lack of
reconciliation between dreams and reality sets us up for some interesting failures. We're supposed to live in tidy little packages. But for some of us, the tidy packaging of safety ends up feeling like a stranglehold. I get migraine headaches and panic attacks, where the fog rolls in over my chest and resides
like a shark tail, ominous and heavy, shifting enough to make my heart
pound. They're not full blown panic attacks - I'm aware that these are
baby, mini, tiny in comparison to some others I've seen. But the point
is that I'm struggling to breathe, I'm struggling to spread my wings,
and this anger weighs me down.
I don't want to be angry. I don't like being angry. It's a waste of time. I've been angry for about six months now, and it's eating me up inside. The other night, I'd convinced myself that I was just fine. I've been working on just resting in the space of discomfort. Bruce Lee's mantra of
"Be water, my friend" has been on repeat in my head. I crawled into bed. I laid my head on the pillow, and then, I started sobbing. I'm not ok all the time. I don't know anyone who is. Luckily, it's also provided some opportunity for clarity and insight - and I'm coming to a place where that
negativity is turning into a catalyst for creativity. That same night, a few moments after I realized I was crying, I had a thought. I realized that I felt more lonesome and solitary than I had ever felt in my entire life. I've had heart crushing blows before. This wasn't like that. This was the realization that I was on my own, in my own head, and that despite that solitary confinement, hand in hand with that tremendous feeling of loneliness, I knew I would be fine.
I look at photos of my stepfather, a man whose life work as a physician ultimately was his achilles heel, and his blindspot. Would he have lived longer if he hadn't known what he did about cancer? Was his knowledge and experience the thing that kept him from seeking the help he needed? He should have been a forest or park ranger. He was at home on the mountain and in the forests. And why was he a doctor? Because somewhere, someone told him to set his sights higher than where his roots were, in the Michigan soil as the son of a soybean and dairy farmer. What is that, when we cross purposes with our nature? When do we acknowledge that our happiness and fate and God's will and our purposes are all one and the same? How do we drown out the noise so that the singular blip on the screen is the kind of simple happiness that will allow us to breathe, fully, every morning? The kind of happiness that we find when we reach out and live simply? I want to live for
those whose time has run out.
Yesterday at the bus stop I was sitting on the curb, waiting for the school bus. A fellow mom that I chat with occasionally strode across the street to me, her head backlit by the afternoon winter sun. "How are you?" I inquired.
"Not good. I start chemo again tomorrow. This is the third time."
We sat in silence for a few moments. All I could think of to say, as I put my arm around her shoulders was "I'm so sorry. Life is so unfair. That really sucks."
She gave me a little smile. "Yeah, it does."
Life sucks, folks. Bad stuff happens to people who don't deserve it. We spend too much time angry about stupid stuff, and when we think that we're really bad off, we get a reminder that it could be worse. For some, it is worse.
We're all dying. One day at a time. We make bad decisions, we hang out with shitty friends and we waste time on petty things.
Does this sound negative? Ultimately it's not - truly, the answer is
much simpler than everyone would have you believe. I'm a big proponent
of living your dream - of being whatever you want to be. But the
important lesson here is to learn how to balance the unfulfilled parts
of your being with the reality of your situation. And I don't mean
settling, curbing dreams, reigning in the bigger picture, or giving up
on your life as a canvas for the boldest brush strokes you can possibly
paint. The answer lies in setting yourself up for successes in each step
of the way, and re-evaluating what it means to you to be happy.
2012 is the year I stop living other people's wishes and wants. 2012 is the year I make it count. 2012 is the year I just. start. living.
