Life keeps happening

Whenever we're stuck, we think the world stops turning. But we're wrong. Life keeps happening whether we want it or not. We have two choices at that point - to either get unstuck and get back in the flow, or to get pissed at everyone and everything and climb into a little black hole called depression, or anger, or resentment - we each choose our own torture according to what we know or what we have experienced in the past. I was on the verge of that. I thought - I don't want to deal with this new pain in my life, I want to put everything on pause, I want time to think, to mull it over, to decide at my own pace, in the quiet. I kept being jerked forward and sideways by things happening around me. Like being flown in the river, the waves kept rushing me forward, the current didn't stop because I got stuck on a log, both feet heavy with sand - the current kept going. What did I do? Got mad at the current of course. Did it do any good? You bet it didn't. The current was oblivious to my pleas, to my splashing around, to my purses lips. No matter what I tried, it ignored me. Until I got it.

I realized I planted myself in the gray zone. I thought I could just hide out from life, sit there comfortably, and ignore everything around me. But the gray zone made it difficult to think and difficult to see. It was neither - nor. Not that, not this. In between. Comfortably and silently pulling me under water. As my mouth started filling with black water, I gasped. I splashed around and swam out just in time to catch up with the place I was in. I'm glad I did. I saw that pretending was worth nothing. Pretending only prolonged the pain, and the people around me knew everything - actually, knew everything for months now - but it was me who was blind to it. No, that's not true, I wasn't blind, I actually felt it with my gut but refused to notice. I've gotten very good over the years at ignoring my own feelings, repressing all memories and experiences. Life poked me under the ribs - hey, it said, I keep going - so you either drag yourself out and come with me, or feel free to rot here. I chose to go. I've had enough rotting, to the point where I thought I couldn't be me, ever. Going was hard. Pulling legs out of the sticky sand, moving arms with sleeves catching on water. I'll have to drop the clothes and swim out naked. It's scary and cold, but I have to do it. They're old habits and ways of being, and they have to go. For a while, until I find new ones, I will be vulnerable - and that's what scares me. But it's all part of the process.

Life is not hard or rude or evil for not stopping. It simply is. I am the one who can choose to label it. I chose not to. I let it be. And, I'm actually letting myself be - with life - as is. I'm not trying to make it perfect, or change it, or make it do things to fit my picture. It is so hard, it takes all my will power. And it breaks me occasionally into tears. But after I cry, it's over. Each little instance comes and goes, and it's over again. Like watching thoughts through meditation. The peace and calm it gives me is unbelievable. As I swim, twigs slap me on my face, rocks scrape my knees, water fills my nose or splashes into my eyes - and I choose not to beat myself over the head for picking the wrong course, for swimming too high or too low, for not breathing right. Or any of that nonsense. When all of a sudden a small miracle happened - I keep "happening" now. It's a total bliss. I know tomorrow I might be rocked again from happiness to grieving to smiling to crying, but I know it will all pass, and it's all part of life. 

Photo by Allen Skyy.