One heck of a day I am having, beginning with powerful emotions surging from a very rough weekend of spouse in a strange mood-itis. I’m so sensitive that it always hits me hard and takes me a while to recover, and he seems to react to my moods the same way, so we ride nice big waves around here. Some days I just chalk the whole mess up to our passionate Italian heritage. Other days, I realize we are far more alike and sensitive than I had ever imagined.
It started with going to bed too late, which always sets me up for mood swings. Then there was the fact that it was the first day of his huge successfulness in a brand new arena of career wins and the gifts and basking therein, and suddenly not only was I tired and emotionally worn, but I was hit head on with loss. My choices, my sacrifices, my stubborn insistence on putting my child first before myself, and the endless windows of opportunities lost were all slamming me in the head.
Top that with reading a metaphysical book written by a woman who looked more like a man from a Victorian generation, about ego and serving others, with every reference to God in the masculine and suddenly I was having an internal war between my empowered, pissed off inner goddess and my good little conservative baptist inner child. I set myself up with staring at my own failure at everything and wondering whether this spiritual path I had chosen was a big mistake. Yup, I was a big, fat, lazy, inept, ungrateful failure. Even this blog I was so excited about sucked. My writing sucked. I had no friends. I felt fat, ugly, old, and opposite of fabulous.
While retching up my existential misery in successive Facebook status updates, I was making tortellini for my son and burned my arm on the pan. Great. I may as well just ensure my misery today and eat sugar and fat, too. So I did. Apparently, I like to go down with a big, hideous splat and then ricochet with a dramatic comeback. Did I mention there was thunder and lightening and a brief power outage as well?
I have surrendered fully to this misery inasmuch as I know how. Today, there is nowhere to go that is of any interest to me. I want to hide my fat body in my too small for me apartment. I’m in my own way and have no idea how to get out of it. I’m so pissed that I don’t even care. Every solution has a problem with it, why it won’t work, and a price that’s more than I want to pay. Even no solution has a price, but right now it’s where I am and it still costs less than the calculations I’ve done on my standby fantasy of running away. Nowhere with no solution.
I imagine you have a load of advice for me, and so do a ton of other people, and it’s all varied, some excellent, some peppered with spiritual cliche, and some empathetic, some not. The problem is that none of it will help. Did you know that it actually makes it worse? The hardest thing for most people to do is to simply hold space and witness someone else’s brilliant process. The best place for me to be is where I am, miserable, burned, regretful, frustrated, angry, jealous, grieving, and afraid. I’ve learned it’s a good place to be and that the very best thing I can do is to love exactly where I am because the fertilizer down here is the richest thing happening.
Each individual has unfathomable wisdom and resource inside, and our egos don’t like to admit that someone may know what’s good for themselves better than we do, and we certainly don’t like to see the messiness that reminds us of our own “failing”. When I rise, you can be certain I’ll be carrying some diamonds of wisdom, and that the simmering desires I’ve been sitting on will explode into a firework of new creations.
Goddess Oceana's Gold 