Had a bit of a 'crisis of faith' this week, so to speak, with another workweek of high-octane stress, and Mike with his condition, and worrying about it from 1100 kms away.
Yesterday reached a zenith, the kind where all I can do is sit with the feelings, and I don't reach out, and I don't want to be social, I just want to think things through, plan my next move, as Lady Gaga says "take my time, put it back" in terms of where I want things.
Planning can be a great thing, and as a structured Virgo I usually embrace it. But I have to remind myself I am not in control--at least not nearly as much as I like to think I am. We're barrelling along, making a plan for this, a plan for that, and suddenly we need to come, sometimes, to a screeching halt and notice that life, for the most part, often has other plans. It can be difficult to accept this.
I may not be making much sense at this point. I've been mulling this concept over for a while now, starting about two years ago, then intensely after the year that 2011 has been. I've also been up since 3:53 am, having had to arrive way earlier than I like at work (I was sitting at my desk, gripping my Starbucks in a death grip, by 6:59 am, and working like a deranged person (re: not a morning person. Morning people would have put this stuff to bed. I just dragged it out, making phone calls, losing pieces of key paperwork, making simple math errors). I will clarify--when I know I have to be somewhere extremely early, I often stress myself out while sleeping, only to wake way too early, in order to make sure I meet my early-day obligation (note: I have to do it again tomorrow. Lord help me).
Off topic, brain 'pathways' are things we carve out in our neurons, according to an article my dear friend A. sent me yesterday. We take the experiences that we have the most of (if that is pain, your pain pathways are deeply embedded, they are roads well-travelled, and if it is happiness, your happy paths are carved out. See how it works?) And then you must try to re-route these circuits, about as easy as it is to get Toronto traffic moving again once it has experienced a backlog due to an accident, a delay, you see where I'm going with this.
It feels impossible, but I am really making this a priority. My therapist has told me I have "catastrophic" thinking patterns (the article mentioned THAT too) and my cousin calls it "creating a worry" a phrase I love.
Oh well. At least I'm aware. That's the first step.
More jumping around (again--up since 3:53am in my defence!);
Some old friends, as I was reading today, had to say a hard good-bye. I wish them both well.
I want to tell them that yes, it's normal to wake up on a day like this and feel like you are going to your execution. And yes, part of you is missing, absent and may never fully be aware of this day (I for one was not, and can't really return to that day). I don't really have a true grasp of it yet, not sure if I ever will. And yes, more people are overwhelming. And no, I don't recall fully who was and was not there. And I don't remember, really, what I did say to the people who were there.
I remember the pictures, and putting them all together. I remember my niece and nephew and how quiet they were, sensing, like animals, that something was 'wrong' with this day. I remember Father's Day, two days later, and sitting on my rooftop alone in the spring sunshine, blinking against the obscene brightness. I remember running every day, near my parents house, the week I stayed there, trying to fake interest in eating, and in living. A little social hiatus never hurt anyone. In fact, I feel one coming on now.
Stress is the enemy to situations like this. As is excessive tiredness--it causes melancholy, and down-ness, and sadness.
My own exhaustion led me down pathways in my own brain today that really, I shouldn't have gone down, but I wandered there anyway. Dread, hopelessness, the tears threatening.
I felt some optimism as I drove back downtown, towards another meeting, and two crows swooped into view, then just as quickly back out. As I drove through a kind of clearing in the road, they re-appeared, each alight on a lamppost, high off the ground, to the right of where I was driving, but they drew my attention and I saw them.
That's the other thing to do. Be open to the signs, the lessons, the signals.
Signs that there exists that other world, where we've come from, where we will return to.