Mindful-fun-da-mentals

Explorations of mind, paths, and life

Confidence in the Mechanics

Posted on September 10, 2014 - Filed Under 2014, breathe, fear, feelings, frustration, gratitude, self reflect

I am sitting in the dark in my Florida Room, listening to the rain pop on the ceiling and the storms moving through in waves above. The cicadas are warming up to the pause in the turbulence outside, and I am masticating again on the shifts and changes in my life. The door to the backyard is wide open, with just a few whispers of a breeze that make it around the corner of the building. My breath, slow and pensive. I couldn’t feel more blessed in this little house. It warmly opens its arms to me at the end of each day, speaking safety and containment from all the rest of the world. At night it softens beneath me, cradling my body and quieting my mind, the crackle of its age like gentle kisses on my psyche. In the morning, it lets in the light so that I know we have another day together, and releases me out into the many adventures I can find within a few miles. I smile when I return at night, its porch and borders lit up by the white christmas lights I keep on a timer all year.

I sit in this home. Alone. Grateful. Easy. There is nothing that interrupts that space unless I welcome it. Here.

It is out into the world that I find myself sighing a lot lately, a sigh of defeat and disappointment on the trails of what I know are unfulfilled expectations – something I should know better not to have. They creeped up on me when I wasn’t looking, with affirmative and soothing encouragements, and promises flooded by the busy-ness of being needed. They wrestled their way into my daily living, pushing me to do more, to prove myself, to earn a badge, to make me indispensable… yet, I forget that I am, dispensable. 

“My sense of confidence in the mechanics of working life is unravelling quickly!” I shouted online, “I think my fingers are clammy and numb!” My sister remarked, “Unclench those fingers and let it go!” 

My “career,” if that is what you call the part of my life that earns me wages, has shifted. I feel myself attending to all the pulleys and anchors and sails of a ship, disjointed in thought from the captain and some of his crew… each one attending to a small pile of netting in their lap, or a spot on the deck, but not fully making meaning of how the whole ship is sailing. It feels like my former marriage. It didn’t matter how much I loved it, how much I loved him, I was frantically darting to all the challenges on the sea, and no one else was looking but me. I feel scared that my hard work may crumble into a mechanism that is counter to the culture I have enjoyed. I have a few supportive crew who watch me sigh, and I expect, they feel helpless as to HOW alleviate my unhappiness with the decisions being made. I, myself, know my tired face does not help them either.  I want to feel differently, but I am unable to detach enough to trust that ship to stay upright. I know it can, but the signs in my turbulent mind are not good. Again, the strategies I learned early in life to navigate the world are in my own way of finding ease. 

I got approval for unpaid medical family leave… and I have two months of work before I can head to California and support the people I love. This break from working life also gives me time to regroup. It has been a year of immense gifts and blessings, and so many losses. I am whirling and dizzy from the battery of goodbyes. I am tired. I do too much. 

Walking with trusted colleagues, I remarked, “Perhaps I am just a bad sport.” Essentially, the idea that I would even believe that remark is maddening. I am in a world where the very nature of my being makes me less “worthy or valued.” I was advised today to, “prove my worth, make myself indispensable,” by the very company that has utilized every facet of my gifts and abilities. And how did I come to believe in the opportunities that really were not intended for me? I shudder… I let expectations creep up on me.

So the rain comes down, hard. I stand at sunset letting it bounce about my feet and soak my legs. The wind blows and I cling to my big umbrella, tossing my shoes off so I can feel the ground beneath my feet. In this spot, the clouds dark and encompassing, and the light of the sun slowly being consumed by storms, I feel the joyful lull of gratitude. I have this. I have THIS for all my hard work. I have a place to peddle away my stress, and trails to lose my mind in. I have neighbors that include the locals at a restaurant, or neighbors with their dogs bounding down to the water’s edge to check for dolphins and sunsets. I have this, the quiet serenity of my casita, with its gleaming cold terrazzo floors and walls filled with my artwork. I have the pop of rain on the Florida room roof, as I sit, drenched, staring out into a forest of a yard bouncing with the light of thunderstorms. I have friends eager to see me, dancing or eating in their company, keeping me connected and loved. I have co-workers who remind me each day of why I go back, and who I am supporting with the work I do. I have conversations that ease the ache of this “career” enough to make me laugh and reflect on my positive influence.  I have rain, and clouds, and photography, and people I love so deeply and so much. And the wind blows the clouds in, and eventually, it blows them away…

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