Monday, April 8, 2013

Policing my Peace

Ever since my early school days I've not been one who asks many questions, yet I have grown adept at answering many.  I have a very good friend who has often asked me - always framing and rephrasing in a diplomatic, honest and curious way - "Aren't you angry?" And I have consistently answered, no.  Another standout question in recent months, although asked only once is, "Can you say, 'He left us'?"

Juxtaposed in the same paragraph these two questions together summon one answer: sadness.  Sadness of the sort that steals my breath away but at the same time makes me think of how it feels when my bare feet sink into the sand while wading in the ocean surf.

It's hard to wrap my mind around why my husband would walk away from me, his three young children and the youngest on his way.  But the question of "Why" isn't really mine to answer.  My choice was whether or not I would let him go.  I mean this figuratively since (yes, I learned the hard way) literally holding on violates the law.  The Dixie Chicks say it best, "It took me a while to understand the beauty in letting go." The beauty is still unfurling.

First, I get to hold my kids; I have a front row seat to their milestones and meltdowns.  I admire all my children for their growing minds and bodies, incredible energy, strength of spirit, laughter, joy and many manifestations of its opposite.  Secondly, I appreciate that I am free to drink a bottle of water and turn on the radio in my car while I drive myself around town.  Last but not least, I have been able to break a nasty habit of Codependence.  I feel like I can breathe deeper and rest easier, as if I am walking on sunnier shores.

To me, this is a good thing.






Tuesday, April 2, 2013

How do you do it?

How do you do it?  This common question I hear is ripe with connotation and ambiguity.

How.  Think of a job and here's my brief performance review.  I am resourceful.  I am hopeful.  I am maintain a positive outlook.  I accept contributions from others.  I give 110% 100% of the time.  If I have a bad day, I try to learn from it, leave it behind and move ahead.  I don't expend energy on needless drama and politics.  I problem-solve, triage and think on my feet 18 hours a day.

Do You Do.  These words illustrate a pattern; things happen all around me.   I get overwhelmed sometimes and hold my head in my hands.  And quickly thereafter I think of something I can do to get out of feeling cornered.  And I get to it as quickly as possible even if it's merely with the help of dear ol' Google.  Then I acknowledge that I am, in fact, confident and capable of working through seemingly insurmountable issues - one after another.  Also, please add HAVE FAITH to the paragraph above.

It.  Most people - I presume - understandably don't understand what it is like to take care of 4 small children, and they - I believe - focus on the children as the crux of my situation.  I do not.  I grapple mostly with logistics; how to fit together the time, energy and coordination required for managing laundry, grocery shopping, childcare arrangements, dishes, cleaning, bathing, changing diapers (of course), phone and email communication, medical appointments, visits with friends, school schedules, job expectations, financial obligations and maintaining my emotional awareness through it all.  It's an ever-evolving puzzle, and this past year it included a move from a 5 bedroom house to a 2 bedroom apartment, a new job, and a divorce (actually still pending - sigh).

My children are not the challenge.  It is important to me that they enjoy their childhood (after all, they only get one).  My children are at the heart of the issue because they ARE my heart, and I will do whatever is necessary to keep and protect them.  Anne Geddes has quoted Katherine Hadley in one of her adorable baby photography books, Little Thoughts of Love.  "The decision to have a child is to accept that your heart will forever walk about outside of your body."

Whenever people ask me "How do you do it?" what comes to me - to my mind, to my body, to my spirit which is all of me - is the energy within that drives me to prove that I CAN do it.

Crystals are Like Ice Cubes

My daughter coined the phrase that I used as the title to today's posting. I greatly appreciate the imagination and logic of my children, because it brightens my days and reassures me that it is possible to find truth and direction when faced with questions and unknowns. She was learning about crystals the other day.  She made the connection to ice cubes after I answered her question about what crystals look like.  It is wonderful to watch her and my other children learn.

I have been thinking of crystals recently, too, in the context of Superman of course!  His parents packed some crystals with him when they kissed him goodbye.  They are remnants of his heritage, ghosts of his family (his loved ones, his teachers) and tools for learning.  They represent solidity, clarity, beauty and wealth.  Their existence, however, alone did not mean that Superman could download automatically all they contained.  He needed to take the time to handle them, and listen and learn.

I have been fortunate to have what I might identify as a similar assortment of crystal-like tools.  I can look at remnants of my past and learn from them.  I can listen to people who have known me for my lifetime (or any small part of it) and engage in enlightened - or otherwise useful - conversation.  When I find myself in a place where the learning and listening can commence, I am usually calm, and I usually feel cared for.  And I can place them into two categories: Community and Coping skills. 

Coincidentally (or not?) this month marks the one-year anniversary of the time when my world (as I had known it in the context of my marraige) utterly fell apart.  I have consistentally referred to it as The-Worst-Month-of-My-Life.  I was alone, overwhelmed, sick, broke, used and abused. There had been plenty of shake-ups leading up to it and I had endured most of them in isolation.

My community is valuable to me.  It is always somewhat in flux as it is normal for relationships to be newly established and grow - maybe flourish - or wilt a little, wash away or be intentially uprooted.  My friends, relatives, coworkers and groups whom I am associated with stengthen my ability to cope with the ups and downs I inevitably encounter on a day to day basis. 

Even Superman had to cope.  Even he had to retreat and take counsel with Jer-el's voice and image. Even when he wanted to lead a normal life and throw off his cape after dropping his glasses (see Superman II) he could only let go for a brief moment before realizing that he was, in fact, made to be Superman - it was a calling he did not deny.

Superman's Kryptonian heritage may have given him an advantage over other creatures on the planet - particularly other beings who may have wanted or needed to perform to his same effects - but it was learned with conscious reflection, with careful consideration, and also with a touch of grief at the loss of a world he would never know.  His crystals in his icy refuge provided him a platform to stand on, for learning and growing into, and retaining his role.

My ascendance through an unequally-yolked marriage enabled me to more easily become a SuperMom.  My crystals, like icecubes, are an enigma; liquid and solid at the same time, bittersweet.