It is quiet. I am up before everyone else, as I serve as the family alarm clock. I hear the coffee dripping, my son snoring, cars outside driving by. The cat just meowed her good morning to me. It sounds exactly like her Feed Me Now meow, but I like to think she is just being friendly.
I always like driving early in the morning, wondering where the other people are headed. I realize now they are headed to work and to school - no great adventure - but some folk might have a story to tell about this day. Being up earlier everyone, this silence, reminds me of those stories and adventures. Who knows what today will bring.
As I sit, I see the toys piled up. There is a Spiderman suitcase that, despite my best efforts, keeps reappearing and I have effectively given up. Sooner or later we'll need it again, right? Much better than the children digging through my closet to get to it again. I see toys that I keep meaning to take up to church. I see backpacks everywhere - one for work, one for school, one for the gym, one for my computer, one for viola, one for church, one for Karma since everyone else has one. They are useful but I am starting to wonder if we have a slight backpack addiction.
A portion of my brain is screaming "You have so much to do! How can you sit?!" That has been an overriding thought lately, to the point of obsession. The house must be perfectly kept, children act perfectly at all times, no screen time for anyone, food is amazingly healthy. This expectation has even carried over to my beliefs about my dog: he should be docile when I'd like and entertaining when I'm in the mood. I am a realist though, I have no expectations about the cat. Let's not get crazy now.
A few weeks ago I came out fighting, fighting my very stagnant brain. You see because of family situations I have been surviving the last four years. Moving away from most everyone you know, establishing life in a new city, new culture. Building friendships, realizing which friendships are real. Finding a church family, learning to trust them, love them. Births, surgeries, diagnoses, job losses, promotions. Happiness, yes. But guilt and stress have been my emotions of choice.
When I decided that I needed to change my thinking, I came out fighting with the stress of urgency behind it. Like I feel every morning - I have so much do to; how can I sit? How can I possibly sit and not work on myself. I have been thinking in circles, maddening circles. I have had a few actual realizations, most of the "work" has been a way to numb the pain I am feeling. Oh silly, I can't feel pain. I'm working on myself. This is good. Don't look at anything else going on, write in your journal again. Talk to your friend again. A stranger again. And again, this is better than feeling.
I can't learn a new language in a day, a month. Of course this is true. Why in the world do I flippantly think I can change my thinking in a day? It trivializes my work, the depth of who I am. It is not fair nor pleasant to my loved ones and friends. No, this is going to take practice. I will get to a place in which I feel whole-hearted, find more joy. The process will be slow. I have made the decision to linger in the slow process. This is my essence we're talking about. Each step in growing brings an adventure, like a 4 am car drive. The 4 am car ride is only pleasant if it is out of the ordinary. Working toward a more complete self can not, by definition, be ordinary. Out of everything in our lives, creating and recreating ourselves through self growth - that is a lifetime of adventure.
Posts
.jpg)
