Conventional wisdom says that telling our stories of loss is integral to the healing process. That's part of the appeal of support groups, therapists. Confessionals.
On the other hand, focusing our energy on anything gives it power...as much as we are what we eat, we are also what we think, and what we say.
So here's just a bit of my story. Like the valve on a pressure cooker, I'm letting the steam out so the whole thing doesn't explode and kill everyone. (ohmygod, relax, it's a figure of speech!)
Now it's time to walk away, so, I'm just going to take the pot off the flame, and that will be that.
Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what
you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon
as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high
a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I know it looks like I have a great attitude about all this, and I guess at this point I do. But you should have seen me 3 months ago. Well, no - you shouldn't have seen me, which is why I was hiding - but if you had seen me, or are one of the people who did see me, you would know that I didn't get to this place easily. It's been hard. Gut-wrenching. FUQING AWFUL. But I'm past the worst part, partly due to the magic of time doin' it's thing, and partly because, yes, I chose to feel better. One thought at a time, I chose better over worse. Which doesn't make me a Super Heroine, it just makes me a survivor. Which is a kind of heroism in itself, I guess.
Sometimes I took one step forward and then a flying leap back, devolving and dissolving and miring down in despair. But then I'd get my wits about me and start forward again.
I'm not "there" yet - and have realized, finally, that there is no "there" really, since it's all a process - but I'm at least maintaining general forward motion. Onward and upward. Tally ho.
Maybe eventually I'll write a Survival Guide for the Wastelands, but for now I'll just say that It. Is. WORK. It's hard work, and it's a choice. A million choices, every step of the way.
Photos by photographer Tim Remick, taken moments after these climbers had returned to base camp after reaching the top of Mt. McKinley.
"That's how you stick around. Evolve or evaporate. You have to be very cognizant of what's going on around you. You can't be so bold and reluctant to be receptive to change that you don't allow yourself to grow..." ~ Usher
27 days to launch. I'm living in that soon-to-be-moving limbo, with lots of stuff boxed up, lots of stuff just lying about (said in my best Carl Pilkington voice, did you hear it?!). I'm truly almost finished packing, but anyone want to bet that I'll still be in a panic and rush the day before? I will, I just will.
I'm chomping at the bits to get there, and obsessing over my new little place. How will it look when I'm all settled? How will it feel? How do I want it to look and feel? That's the real question, and some of the answers are slow to come...
I know conventional wisdom says to settle in slowly, don't rush it, take your time. But I may only be there a year, so there's not a lot of time to take, and besides, I want to feel at home from the beginning, which means nest-building in high gear. Even if that means making some mistakes along the way...
Which is a metaphor for how I've lived my whole life, and it's worked pretty well for me all these years, despite all current appearances to the contrary.
So, I'll do what I always do: think it to death, plan what I can, then, in the end, fling it all together and see how I like it.
What will I keep, what will I let go? That's always the question, isn't it?
Absorb what is useful. Discard what is not. Add what is uniquely your own.