We all know how to cure
what ails our worried souls. We all know how to sooth our panicked hearts and
how to allay our fears and calm our tethered nerves. We know how to do these
things because thanks to sappy over-sharing baby boomers (yes, I include
myself) and the internet, they are everywhere, these quick and long fixes. And
they work. Work wonders sometimes.
Right now I am stretched
to the nines emotionally and have been for some time. I did not want to blog
about the details and still don’t. I think anyone who knows me and who reads
this blog knows that it is the sad and quickly changing stuff of my parents’
lives. But for now, that is all I will say on that subject. I am not prepared
to divulge the details as many of the details are their own private business
and, as a result, not mine alone to share.
What I will talk about is
the getting on with it. These are the things I know. I know that frustration can
be healed by breathing, stepping back, and seeing things from another point of
view. I know that anger can be abated with meditation and chocolate and a glass
of wine. And I know that my husband can make everything disappear with a gesture and a loving ear. This week my
son responded to my cries on the phone with the most empathetic, “Mom, talk to
me.” And I did. And like his father, he is a good listener. And he allowed my
reservoir to drain a little. And my friends are there for me when I ask them to
be, and sometimes when I don’t. I am an odd beast when stressed and sad. I tend
to—very out of character for me—retreat and hide. Times like that, the only
welcome guest outside of my husband is Doris Day. I wish Doris knew that she
has served me better and more often than any guru could. She has been my rock.
Not Hudson, mind you, but rock nonetheless.
The other great leveler
in grasping times of need is the serenity prayer, which in itself is a wonder.
I discovered years ago that the Twelve Steps are great rules for life in
general, and they work for all things, not just addiction. And because I am not
in any “program” a dear friend gave me a wonderful book called “The Twelve
Steps For Everyone”. It has been a good friend.
I know the serenity prayer is well known but I will repeat it here.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot
change;
courage to change the things I
can;
and wisdom to know the
difference.
Great words. Perfect. True. And they work.
But ... what if I have accepted the things I cannot change, and I have
forged ahead with blind and open minded courage to the things I can change, not
only knowing the wisdom to differentiate, but appreciating that I am good at
doing so.
And then ... what if you employ all these things and what if nothing
works? What if I wake up every day thinking it’s going to be different and
hoping we are going to take five steps forward and none back? What if every day
I put on an optimist’s face and every day the steps retreat so far back, it
makes the road itself harder and harder to see?
Well, I thought about this and I thought about this and I decided
without a lick of a maudlin overtone that the fact is that there are some times
in life that just have to be gotten through. Times when you are in the muck.
And when you are in the muck, must you make mudpies? I don’t think so. I think
sometimes you just have to be in the muck until it is dried up.
But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t diamonds to be grabbed and
that’s exactly what I am doing. Desperately and voraciously I am grabbing at
every damn diamond I can find. Some are hidden diamonds like the boy saying,
“Mom, talk to me.” The gift of his openhearted time was diamond enough. Let
alone that I got to drain the reservoir a little more. Then there was the dear
friend who arrived, in her jammies, tea in hand, very early in the morning to
just let me tell my tale. Then there was Barb with her emails saying, “I am
here if you want to talk, I am here if you want to just know I am here. You
don’t have to talk but I am here.” Then there was my husband, knowing how low I
am and knowing how my daily workouts keep me sane, who showed up today with the
first two seasons of Downton Abbey to watch in our home gym. Diamonds all!
And then there are the diamonds you have to seek out for yourself. The “Where’s
Waldo?” of gleaming moments. The first crocus of the spring, the buds
multiplying on the trees, the Facebook status a friend posts that makes you
laugh, the fresh berries you bought today that tasted like July. The dogs who
greet you every day like you have just won the Oscar, the lottery, and a
lifetime supply of underwear. Am I being corny? Yes. Right now, corny looks
lovely. Right now, “I’m as corny as Kansas in August.” Because to be corny is
to be Doris Day. Doris who, on screen and in her real life, presented us the
ultimate in cockeyed optimist and yet had muck up to her eyeballs in most of
both. So what would Doris say? Que sera sera. What will be will be. And it may
be muck sometimes.
It’s the keen eye in us that makes it the diamonds.
Barbara: Almost too emotional to respond, Deb. This was its own diamond
to me. A diamond of blog-dom. A diamond of intimacy and heartfelt connection. A
diamond of honesty. Yes, I do know it’s been tough on you and it’s heartbreaking
for me to not be able to platitude and love it away. But such is life. And even
if my own troubles and concerns aren’t of this tall, difficult order, you’ve
given me enormous comfort today when I too am feeling down and out. It IS in
the looking for diamonds amid the muck. That’s the only—ONLY—“trick” I’ve ever
been able to absolutely count on in times of life-suckage. And all that aside,
Deb: “I am here if you want to talk, I am here if you want to just know I am
here. You don’t have to talk but I am here.”
