It seems I’ve gotten myself into a bit of an emotional predicament again. And even though the situation is entirely of my own making, I’m trying not to be too down on myself. I’m trying to breathe in and out, in and out. I’m seeking to live in the present moment. And to make it through this. One breath at a time.
So, I guess I’m going to tell you this tale (or at least the surface part — the portion I can admit to in public). The deal is: when it comes to the story of my life, I really can’t not write about this. Because as much as the theme of change has dominated my existence recently (what with a new job, living in a new state, and such things as the California driver’s-license test), this latest development overshadows everything else I’ve discussed so far. This is about one more major event in my life, happening synchronously with everything else.
Here goes…
Ten years ago, in the fall of 1997, I met someone. I thought (actually very early on I felt certain) that she was “the one.” It had been about a decade since I’d felt anything quite like this, and, oh was I really feeling excited about life and the prospects to come.
However, C (she is the one who originally dubbed me with the “TechnoMonk” moniker) and I spent a good portion of the next two years in one of the most horrendously-tumultuous relationships imaginable, as her ambivalence about “us” absolutely dominated our couple dynamics. We were together; then we were not. Over and over this happened. Together, separated; together, separated. Ultimately, in the fall of 1999, after too many partings and subsequent reconciliations to count, and as she was in recovery from breast-cancer surgery, we wisely ceased trying to be a couple. It was a relief for me, because the emotional roller-coaster ride that was this relationship had totally drained me. By that point, I was emotionally, physically, and spiritually spent. I was at a true low point in my life.
A lot of people had observed me over this two-year span and knew what a toll it had taken on my psyche. So, one thing I have kept hidden from many is that I have allowed, over the subsequent eight years, this dynamic to continue to play out, although, arguably, with slightly less drama.
For, you see, C and I remained “friends” — which was her idea, her agenda. (Really, I viewed myself totally committed to a “whole” relationship from the start.) This was probably foolishness, but I allowed it to happen. For one thing, I could never, really, imagine my life without her in it. So, I was a participant in (for what was for me) a half-relationship. However, this kind of arrangement was not without its pitfalls, since I was the one (this time) always ambivalent about trying to be “just friends” with a former lover. It had happened only once in my life prior to this, and, as I think most folks will attest, it just doesn’t tend to work out that well.
As it turned out, even as friends, we had our comings and goings. We had some periods when we were in close contact (sometimes daily, primarily by phone and email) and other times when we (mostly I) decided that this “friendship” scenario was just not working.
There were several points during these friendship years when I brought up the topic of getting together again: that I had never given up on that idea, and was waiting for her “to come to her senses.” Typically, it was shortly after I brought this topic up that we took a break from our friendship for weeks or even months. The separations were always painful for me, but because I missed her (and “the kids”), and the pain always seemed to subside, I would ultimately agree to give the friendship thing yet one more try.
Up until last weekend, the friendship had been on (as I calculate and recollect) its longest continuous run…over a year and a half of frequent contact and friendship-kind-of-closeness (although I had lived in Portland, Roseburg and Larkspur and she in Eugene). It was C who called together the family for a farewell dinner for me. It was at C’s house that I spent my last two nights in Oregon. It was C who made me tuna fish sandwiches for my first afternoon of driving to California. It was C who saw me break down into tears as I took leave of the part of the country I had called home for 37 years. It was to C that I made my first phone call after arriving in my new living space here in the Bay Area. And it was C who sent me a gift certificate so that I might furnish the outside patio of my new living quarters with a reclining lounge chair.
Then, out of the blue, an email arrived last weekend that she was going to go camping with her granddaughter, her granddaughter’s friend, and that friend’s Dad.
When I wrote seeking clarification of what that meant, and after waiting three days for a reply, I finally got the word that there was someone else.
Frankly, I was stunned; there had been nothing to prepare me for this. All of a sudden, with absolutely no warning (especially given my final days in Oregon with her, just within the last month), she is moving on.
C: I wish you well and all health and happiness. And a relationship free of ambivalence.
In the meantime, I’m dealing with changing my entire life around — including, now, the added dimension of needing to heal a hole in my heart.
I am needing to find a way, at this point, to fill this very large void in my entire existence. I just lost my best friend. Yet one more time.
Soundtrack Suggestion
I drink good coffee every morning Comes from a place that’s far away And when I’m done I feel like talking Without you here there is less to say I don’t want you thinking I’m unhappy What is closer to the truth That if I lived till I was 102 I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you I’m no longer moved to drink strong whisky ’Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you Your face it dances and it haunts me Your laughter’s still ringing in my ears I still find pieces of your presence here Even after all these years But I don’t want you thinking I don’t get asked to dinner ’Cause I’m here to say that I sometimes do Even though I may soon feel the touch of love I just don't think I’ll ever get over you If I lived till I was 102 I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you
Groundhog Day. Yes, it’s that day…the (mostly laughable) holiday the movie inspired. I’m guessing there will be six more weeks of winter? (We have a choice?!)
In some respects, like Phil Connors (Bill Murray), I’m experiencing a sense of déjà vu all over again. Last year on this day, I wrote about an unstable work situation, spending all my free time looking for another job, having trouble sleeping, living a life alone, suffering with a muscular/nerve issue in my leg, and having virtually no time to pursue my art. (Question: is this blog “art?”) Well OK, now there’s a bunch of stuff (!)…and interestingly (well, for me at least), all of it is still going on right up to this present moment. Consequently I’m realizing, more and more, the wisdom of the saying, “wherever you go, there you are.”
Because: I’m now living in another city, inhabiting a totally new and different physical environment, and experiencing a quite-different (small-town) culture. And, yet, realistically, my life has not actually changed all that much. Today: truly déjà vu.
Here I am. For all practical purposes, in the same situation I’ve been in for some time. Well, other than, for four entire weeks, I’ve been focused on almost nothing else other than improving my health – which had declined to a really unacceptable level and necessitated a break from the routine.
I have to admit, though, my life is better now after having this unprecedented month-long hiatus to focus on self and to engage in an extended period of reflection. And to try to relax. I have not been “relaxed” for a long time. (Years, maybe? Perhaps never?) Insomuch as the muscular state of my body has been perpetually “tight” for as long as I can remember (at least since the time of my early 20s), I can honestly ponder the question: do I have any idea what it is to be relaxed? It may be that I have that particular human condition (relaxation) in my mind as an intellectual construct, but I don’t really know what it means from personal, lived experience.
In any event, I’ve worked on (or at least toward) relaxation for an entire month now, with a 45-minute period of each day devoted to meditation. For at least that portion of every day (sometimes longer), I’ve attempted to clear out random, fleeting thoughts from my mind and, quite simply, focus on the breath. (With varying degrees of success from day-to-day, I might add.) However, it has become a very important part of my existence, and I know that I need to find a way to continue on with this practice, even as I resume a more structured daily routine next week that includes a return to work and all its accompanying stresses.
Needless to say, I’ve paid a great deal of attention to my physical being this last month, as I’ve tirelessly dedicated myself to addressing the chronic-pain issues that have plagued me. I’ve mentioned previously many of the approaches I’ve utilized. And, this week, just yesterday, I added one more technique; I had a craniosacral therapy session for the first time ever. This method is, at this point, still pretty mysterious to me, but it “involves assessing and addressing the movement of the cerebrospinal fluid, which can be restricted by trauma to the body, such as through falls, accidents, and general nervous tension.” My therapist was very gentle, had good, warm hands, and very caringly applied (barely detectable) pressure to various parts of my head, neck and ears. As I left, she advised that my body would slowly be responding to the work over the next few days – and that I should come back in a couple of weeks for more attention. Apparently, there are significant issues here for me, and utilizing this kind of therapy may be instrumental in helping to further improve my condition. Honestly: I’ll do anything that works. Western medicine has helped me very little, and only alternative health-care providers have helped illuminate the path to greater health.
But, as much time and energy as I’ve devoted to my physical self, my spirit is what has really needed nurturing. I’m not sure that I had really reached a spiritual crisis crossroads, and I don’t know that what I’ve experienced lately would be labeled as “spiritual emergence” – perhaps we should just say that this particular health-crisis interlude has led to a spiritual surge. Yes, that sounds about right.
Like everyone, I believe I’m seeking happiness in life. Rarely, though, have I found it. However, if I can keep reminding myself that health and happiness are not really destinations, but that they can only be found moment-by-moment, then, perhaps, I can live more fully.
Lasting progress doesn’t happen in a few dramatic moments, but hour by hour, day by day. And as time passes, every process includes repairs: The road to happiness is always under construction. Focus on taking life one step at a time until you get it right; set aside what you can do later. When discipline and patience join forces, they become a persistence that endures past the peaks and valleys to carry intentions to completion. Enthusiasm sets the pace, but persistence reaches the goal. Process, patience, and persistence are keys that unlock the doorway to any destination. (pp. 31-32) Dan Millman in The Laws of Spirit
Not too long ago, when I was describing my current life, work, and health situation to a friend, she surmised that my predicament was one that “most certainly called for a spiritual practice.”
I totally agree. And, I have focused renewed energy into that portion of my life lately, especially as I’ve had the time in recent days.
One thing helping me, likely more than anything else, is my meditation practice…which I have taken up again on a daily basis in the last couple of weeks. Now, given that I don’t belong to a meditation group here, and I tend to struggle with such a practice alone, I have fallen back on an old ally and friend in this endeavor, Jon Kabat-Zinn, who I first “met” with the publication of his (1990) book Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness. I owned the original set of tapes produced to accompany that publication, and just this year, re-purchased those same mindfulness meditation recordings on CD. My particular favorite is the first CD in the set, the guided body-scan meditation, which, when I actually stay awake and do what he (the voice of Kabat-Zinn) directs me to do, provides a healthy, self-focused 45-minute meditation experience, from which I (typically) emerge very renewed and relaxed. (Nope, I earn nothing from this endorsement!)
One of the most impactful parts of this experience is to be reminded, at the beginning of the session every day, that acceptance of self in the moment is most desirable…since, for better or worse, this is our experience right now. There is nothing we can do to control or change our experience, our feelings, or our being in the moment. So, why not focus on the moment and accept ourselves as we are?
I need to be reminded, and like to be reminded of this: every day, or even several times a day. Currently, I tend to try and work on this concept during many of my waking moments, saying, “ah, this is how I’m feeling right now. This is the pain I’m having right now. This is my joy right now. This is what I need to be doing for myself right now.”
Here we are: a mid-winter Saturday. And, baby, it’s cold outside. I went out to do a couple of errands earlier today, but I believe I’ll just stay huddled here inside until it’s a tad more hospitable in the great out-of-doors. Two days ago it snowed enough to close down all the area schools, and there’s still some of the white stuff left on the ground as we speak (write? read?). It’s below freezing right now and, cold-averse weenie that I am, I need to keep cozy underneath my electric comforter for a while longer.
So, I sit. Thinking. But mostly trying not to think. Being with myself. Accepting my life. Breathing in and out. With the in-breath, opening my heart. With the out-breath, clearing my mind. Focusing on the breath. Trying to just be: in the here and now.
I seek comfort in the wisdom that is available in the universe. So I sit. And also read. There is so much to learn about this existence.
…everything we see, hear, feel, and think is [in] constant flux and change. Nothing endures. We long for permanence and as a result we suffer, for we find none. Buddhism Plain and Simple(p. 46)
Here is the test to find whether your mission on earth is finished.
If you’re alive, it isn’t.
I’ve had this quotation on my refrigerator door for several years now — as if I actually need a daily reminder that there’s always something (big and bad) coming at me right around the corner (and ready to throw my entire known universe into utter chaos).
This time the issues are all about my health… which probably won’t surprise anyone who has kept up with (or browsed) these Musings very much at all. I’ve been writing about what I first labeled “peripheral neuropathy” since at least last March. Then, later in the year, after my move south, I found a doctor who seemed to have some kind of clue about what was going on with my body, and labeled it “chronic myofascial pain.” And, as you know, I have chronicled such avenues as low-dose naltrexone and acupuncture in my quest to address this predicament.
The latest development is that I seem to have entered some kind of acute phase (or an “eruption,” as my chiropractor likes to call it) with respect to the constellation of my pain issues…enough so that my physician has ordered me to stay away from work. This is a real first for me, so it’s taking a total mental adjustment to accept that I am in such a serious state. The theory is that I can take some time away and calm both myself and the symptoms. I’m scheduled to return to work in a month.
In the meantime, the latest label for my woes seems to be headed in the direction of fibromyalgia…a widespread syndrome that afflicts women much more than it does men. (As usual, in my life, I’m finding myself in the minority.)
I will be seeking much assistance in the coming days, weeks and months. I know I have lots of support out there, and that is very comforting.
Here is what I know I need to do right now:
Breathe.
Take it a day at a time. Breathe.
Go for a walk. Breathe.
Keep showing up. Breathe.
Keep writing. Breathe.
Take a hot bath. Breathe.
Go for a drive. Breathe.
Take a picture. Breathe.
Keep trusting that the universe will provide. Breathe.
