Speaking your truth paves a path to change

I've grown in my ability to spot and surrender to confounding human paradoxes; you know, the simultaneous and incongruent feelings that leave us dumbfounded (joy and fear, relief and sadness) and exhausted. Uncomfortable feelings often sprout into honest (if not heated) conversations otherwise left in the vault locked away feeling no particular intention to speak, but simmering in their own silence. Of course, it's always easier to see in others, and coaching people through their dilemmas and growth has given me ample opportunity to add to my own instances. 

The stress of some event likely erupts these brain teasers. Like when Sweetie had to endure that awkward moment when the children, obviously beside themselves with excitement, watched me open their special Christmas gift--a couple months after he bought me the same item. He was silently crushed that I wasn't able to say, "Wow, how cool. Too bad Sweetie bought me one already. How about I trade this in for the speakers I still need?" I was just so excited that they had bought something so meaningful and prideful it never crossed my mind to let them down. Sigh. 

How do you decide?

 "Oh no!" my husband gasps, looking down at his phone sitting next to his breakfast. "The guy that hosted the party for John and Laura tested positive for COVID!"

"I'm so sorry." I say, quickly adding, "But the party was outside, and you were masked, and stayed something like 30 minutes. We'll be fine."

"But I've worked so hard to make sure not to bring anything home. I could never forgive myself" . . . he trails off and looks guilty.

"Yes you have been careful and look at me, not vaccinated yet, but still alive. I credit you."

Then his brow tightens and he looks straight into my eyes. "I knew I shouldn't go. Remember, I told you before I went I knew I shouldn't go."

With you as my witness

One of the benefits of my COVID-induced isolation has been to slow my pace to a speed that allows me to observe rather than rush through my days (most days). There's little on my schedule, giving me margins for reflection unwittingly unavailable in the past. For that I am grateful. Here I am with an abundance of discretionary time, and I find it still takes a lot to manage just me each day. There are only two adults left in our home, and still, I'm a lot. And it's not because my memory is bad. It's because, like a petulant child, I have some simple things I cannot make myself do automatically, no matter how important they are . . .

Unconditional and fearless in impossible times

Not since elementary school's duck-and-cover drills have I felt such a sense of dread. Duck-and-cover was the public school program that prepared us all for an "atomic attack." It was a time in my young life when I learned about insomnia and chronic worry, usually in the dark of the night. Usually counting the decades and years left in my life. The Bogeyman was my night-time companion from his place in the far corner of the living room, which I could see through the hallway from my bed. 

Today's delights are tomorrow's expectations

"Ugh, mumble, mumble," I hear my sweetie climbing the stairs from the garage, his arms loaded with groceries.

"What say?" says me, "You didn't love your grocery experience this morning?"

"They've already changed some things around, and the new guy isn't as friendly. He wasn't much help."

"And the new guy isn't Michael." I submit my summation.

"Yes, he isn't Michael," he concedes.

In search of the balanced profile--6/2 Role Model/Hermit

Instead of walking down the hill on the opposite side of the street, as usual, I notice Diane crossing to my side of the street toward me, leash in hand, trailing her dog Gracie. 

"Good morning," we say together, then laugh.

I've always been good for a cheery greeting and a 3-minute convo about the yard or the weather or the latest neighborhood gossip when I'm doing my morning rounds in my garden. But then I wind it down and return to the landscape. 

And I am also aware that my 6/2 Role Model/Hermit profile must seek balance. I am two sides of the same leaf. I can only be a role model in the eyes of others, so if I'm practicing my full energy, about half of my life must be interacting in some manner with the world. Left to my own devices, however, I'd be perfectly happy mid-COVID to isolate as a black belt hermit in my own little world. Manifestors already have a propensity to be just fine in their own energy.

"How are you this beautiful day?" I ask, maintaining my aim on the knick-knick with the hose nozzle on "shower" setting.

She stops, gazes up and away to the right and says, "Uh, I'm ok." I can hear sadness behind her words. 

My occasional living nightmare goes something like this

I get overwhelmed. The alien enters my body. I shut down. I hunker down. I am unable to communicate my shutdown. I feel guilty. I am unable to receive communication from others while I'm shut down. I feel guilty. I hunker down. Time goes by. Sometimes the others stop trying. I'm thinking about Dorothy, Jani and Jeannine. Three amazing women I lost in the last 20 years because in today's terms, I ghosted them. I just stopped calling and picking up.