An obstacle surmounted
At least once. And if it can be done once it can be done again. All of the anxiety, all of the tension, all of the growing realization of the need to actively work against despair has evaporated into the wind and been carried away in a gust of light. For the last few weeks I kept asking why. I knew the answer and it scared me. It was more proof somehow that I am flawed, damaged beyond repair. That "proof" showed a serious error in judgment which further exposes one of my fundamental flaws: I lack patience. Or rather, I have a finite store of patience and don't usually include myself in the group of people I believe are deserving of part of that store of patience. Upon serious self-examination I can show solid examples of my ability to be patient with other people. I can even separate acts of genuine patience from acts that look like patience but were really passive-aggression. I just suck at being patient with myself, and if I empty out the store then I don't seem to have the skills necessary to refill it while trying to use it.
So much of my fear, so much of my anxiety is generated from this lack of patience. IT IS WHAT IT IS. I can desire change and even work for change, but I cannot force it. Not even upon myself. If I had been able to exercise more patience a month ago I would not have had to be afraid of coming home. If I had been able to embrace an attitude of patience over the last few weeks I would not have worked myself into such a frenzy of need and unfounded...fear. And yet here I am again, anxiety relieved via an external source rather than through the adjustment of my perspective to align it with reality. Will it last? Or can I cheat and say that at least for a moment my expectations and reality match? Is that allowed? Can I choose to just accept the relief and work, when needed, to remind myself of it to relieve anxiety again in the future? Maybe that's the right question. That one seems like the most work and the greatest commitment.
I have a bed that I have made that came together in a way I would never have anticipated. If you had asked me two months ago what I wanted I would have said that it was NOT THIS. Yet here it is, and it is what it is. There are things I would change that I find inconvenient, most certainly, but even those things are objects of self-exploration and learning. But the single *worst* thing about the entire experience was to have that moment of ultimate bonding with someone who was not my husband--and then NOT be able to recreate it. And somehow I expected that having had the experience, having been led right to it, that *I* (of all people) should be able to recreate it at will. That's ego for you.
I wanted him to risk hurting me and to break down the wall(s) he has inside of himself and to SHARE himself with me, but I discovered that after such a long time of having my hand batted away I had stopped offering it to be smacked. And why? What's to fear? Not damage, as I have protection against that, but pain. How silly to think I want to have my hand smacked and yet be afraid of it hurting...how silly to think that an experience with a master would translate into instant mastery. It was terribly foolish to think I could break down a wall for someone else when I am only learning how mine are constructed. The two men in my life are two of the most patient human beings I have ever met. It's humbling to realize that you need to be told the same damn thing over and over again before you get it, especially when you're used to being the smart kid. It's even more humbling to realize that someone else thinks you're worth the effort, even when you don't.
And today I fought off a crisis again. Today I decided that I'd set aside my fear and offer my hand again, and today he reached out through a hole he made in his wall and smacked it. Today *we* had that moment. He and I became just an entity that was us and WE had the experience of each other. Was it as complete? No, but it was. It existed, and that was the point. Perhaps the additional lesson is also that it not just "existed" but continues to exist and only needs to be fostered--with patience--in order to thrive. That kind of connection doesn't just die off, it endures. It...endures. And there's yet another lesson, and another anxiety gone. Another fear I can release. Another choice made. Again, I have to say that the two men in my life are two of the most patient people I have ever met.
she said today. And she was right. Too much ruminating. Not enough experiencing and not enough joy. Just stop it. Look around and see it all with fresh eyes, with the eyes of a child. Be amazed, be joyful, be content. What more could you want? You have the opportunity to grow and you've already embraced that. So grow, dammit. NOW. ... just kidding...
So much of my fear, so much of my anxiety is generated from this lack of patience. IT IS WHAT IT IS. I can desire change and even work for change, but I cannot force it. Not even upon myself. If I had been able to exercise more patience a month ago I would not have had to be afraid of coming home. If I had been able to embrace an attitude of patience over the last few weeks I would not have worked myself into such a frenzy of need and unfounded...fear. And yet here I am again, anxiety relieved via an external source rather than through the adjustment of my perspective to align it with reality. Will it last? Or can I cheat and say that at least for a moment my expectations and reality match? Is that allowed? Can I choose to just accept the relief and work, when needed, to remind myself of it to relieve anxiety again in the future? Maybe that's the right question. That one seems like the most work and the greatest commitment.
I have a bed that I have made that came together in a way I would never have anticipated. If you had asked me two months ago what I wanted I would have said that it was NOT THIS. Yet here it is, and it is what it is. There are things I would change that I find inconvenient, most certainly, but even those things are objects of self-exploration and learning. But the single *worst* thing about the entire experience was to have that moment of ultimate bonding with someone who was not my husband--and then NOT be able to recreate it. And somehow I expected that having had the experience, having been led right to it, that *I* (of all people) should be able to recreate it at will. That's ego for you.
I wanted him to risk hurting me and to break down the wall(s) he has inside of himself and to SHARE himself with me, but I discovered that after such a long time of having my hand batted away I had stopped offering it to be smacked. And why? What's to fear? Not damage, as I have protection against that, but pain. How silly to think I want to have my hand smacked and yet be afraid of it hurting...how silly to think that an experience with a master would translate into instant mastery. It was terribly foolish to think I could break down a wall for someone else when I am only learning how mine are constructed. The two men in my life are two of the most patient human beings I have ever met. It's humbling to realize that you need to be told the same damn thing over and over again before you get it, especially when you're used to being the smart kid. It's even more humbling to realize that someone else thinks you're worth the effort, even when you don't.
And today I fought off a crisis again. Today I decided that I'd set aside my fear and offer my hand again, and today he reached out through a hole he made in his wall and smacked it. Today *we* had that moment. He and I became just an entity that was us and WE had the experience of each other. Was it as complete? No, but it was. It existed, and that was the point. Perhaps the additional lesson is also that it not just "existed" but continues to exist and only needs to be fostered--with patience--in order to thrive. That kind of connection doesn't just die off, it endures. It...endures. And there's yet another lesson, and another anxiety gone. Another fear I can release. Another choice made. Again, I have to say that the two men in my life are two of the most patient people I have ever met.