Sunday, April 22, 2018

A Few Minutes More


There is something thoughtful about sitting in ones living room as the last of the day is fading into night...at 8:20 pm. (Living so far north is still cool and weird to me.) A summer smelling candle casts a warm glow over the room, and friendly shadows dance on the walls. The dishwasher chugs away, a sign of tasty meals prepped, and a clean kitchen to start the week off. The tiny, stir crazy dog is finally at rest, snoring softly in my lap. The chorus of chirps from tiny frogs can be heard roaring through the closed windows.

I feel a soft sadness, great grief, and an unfamiliar peace. Unfamiliar because it feels different. New. Unexplored.

I think...that I will sit here for a few minutes more.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

A Cynic

I'm having an interesting time delegating brain space. The priority is supposed to be on finishing school. Two. More. Weeks. To get it all done. One part of my brain is like ahhhh get it done lady. The other part of my brain is like "with what?"

I was on a couple flights recently. Five to be exact. That's another story. Anyway, after I had finished reading a book for my class, I popped back in on a book I've been reading for intrigue. It's called Searching for Sunday by Rachel Held Evans. It's got all the things to think about. Here are some of the things that struck a cord during those moments of travel:

This is quote in the book referencing something written by Heather Kopp:
"Many months would pass before I understood that people bond more deeply over shared brokenness than they do over shared belief."

That.
I've been sitting on that for a couple weeks now. Or some amount of time. My sense of time is shot.
Maybe that's why blogging feels so productive for me. Maybe that's why frank candidness feels like a safer space than trying to be someone I'm not.
I have been such a recipient of love and support. Things no one would no to give if I hadn't said or acknowledged that I was...am...broken. Not to mean I don't want to be un-broken. That would be okay with me...but wow all the love.

She then begins chapter 11 with this quote:

Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist. -George Carlin

You see...shortly before reading that I had discovered in myself, and even expressed to my sister, a newfound spot of cynicism in my self. How can I be a lovely guest at a wedding when my forever quit. How can I not scoff when the vows that my partner and I made almost eight years ago were taken to mean less. Reading this allowed me to re-frame my thinking. Just because my person had a hard time and a different scenario doesn't mean that this is their scenario. This is an isolated event in the fabric of time. What is now will likely look different later, and in different light.

But I'll tell you. I liked that place of idealism. It was lovely. Not always sunny but always moving forward. Striving for something. Now in this place of disappointment, I wonder if I will come across a place of trusting, idealistic, companionship with another human again without the lens of disappointment.
I might. Many people have expressed optimistic sentiments or personal experiences. Maybe I'm supposed to sit at this vantage point for a hot minute.

On page 86 Rachel says:
"See I've got this coping mechanism thing where, when I'm feeling frightened or vulnerable or in over my head,, I intellectualize the situation to try and regain some sense of control. .... In some religious traditions, this particular comping mechanism is known as pride.

Hmmmmm. Let me intellectualize this for a moment....maybe I'm trying so hard to sort all of this out in my brain the energy I should be using for finishing my classes is being spent on intellectualizing my situation.

In some ways I might still be avoiding. I have a lot on my plate. Dealing with all the things on my plate...or leaving all the things on my plate allow me to differ the reality that he's not simply on a work trip. That the lovely parts of our companionship aren't gone.
That the reality of my expectations of graduating are different now that he's not in them. I had expectations that my graduation might look like the celebration we had for him last year.
He (we had been long distance dating) and his family had asked if I wanted them to come to my graduation for undergrad. I had said no. This isn't it for me. Come see me graduate when I get my masters. That one I will have really worked for. In some sense, that was a plan. One made before we were even married. An expectation.

It makes me think back to the time when I had a student in full blown meltdown in the hall, and I was trying to help them isolate the issue so I could help. The student profoundly, through hiccups and sobs, noted that "Its...just...that....things....aren't...going...as....I....expected."
Never in my life have I identified more in the moment. I get it kid. Boy do I get it.

So, I don't know what I expect now. Or what I want. I don't even know if I want to walk for me. It was just an expectation built upon previous interactions. Never have I loved standing in a mass of chaos. Typically after the build-up of getting things done, I crash. In our conversation my sister mused that she typically gets sick. A forced crash. I'd probably rather go out to coffee with each of the people who are wanting to celebrate me and with me. I'd value that interaction more that missed moments of quality conversation because I tried to divide my time. But will I miss that "I did it" picture? Or will I be sad, cynical, or disappointed that the picture doesn't look how I expected.

(By the way, I don't have the answer. Input from others on this one surprisingly hasn't made me feel enlightened. It's my hope that posting starts some processing and allows for a beautiful epiphany in the morning....okay its already morning...in four hours when I wake up for the second time.)