More will be Revealed
So what’s been happening in the gap since we last spoke is I didn’t quit that thing that seemed like maybe too much after all. Instead I kept going but in a using-all-the-tools-to-stay-chill kind of way. And I had some relative success with the keeping going while staying chill thing, meaning it all became more doable and less fraught with drama-y, which is a plus for sure. Like okay, big girl Sascha gets to show up in this scenario and choose. Pancakes or eggs, tomato, tomah-to, piano or tambourine.
And so that feels like triumph, taking a pause long enough to say, okay, I don’t really like this, but then again maybe this is a hoop I need to jump through to get where I’m going so I’m willing to do what it takes to get through the hoop. Maybe I don’t even need to jump so much as kinda hoist myself up there and then tumble out the other side, one day at a time style — less prima ballerina, more worker among workers/chop wood carry water style. I got this.
So I’ve been doing it that way, trying to do it that way, for a bit and it feels rather foreign and uncomfortable. Not crisis-y, get me out of here run screaming uncomfortable, but gee whiz really why does every day seem to be like what should, could, ought to be the first thing on my list winds up last, meaning pushed, meaning like a constant inconsolable weeping child in the background reminding me I’m not taking care of what needs taking care of — “You’re not doing enough for me! You’re not paying attention to me!”
It’s horrendous. And I actually don’t want to listen to it because my real child, my literal actual child, and the figurative child which is this home and this life and this community I co-create every day are so much more compelling than this other artificial-feeling, external hoop path I’ve found myself on. No, I selected it, bought the ticket for it, sat through the previews for it, and now, part of me still wants to walk out, go home, and put on my jammies and snuggle up with a book and my dudes.
Maybe it’s the timing. Maybe I’ve watched too many movies where people who are motivated really seem motivated and don’t have this strong desire to check out and play hooky. Maybe the desire to check out and play hooky can somehow be fed while chopping and carrying and hoop jumping and cultivating presence and compassion and fairyland magical family snuggle vibe and preparing to evacuate for this inevitably fire-peppered Summer and creating fun social time yet in a covid-safesque way given our kiddo’s too-young-to-be-vaxxed-ness (#TYTBV) and the breakthrough cases and the variants and our ongoing near-zero risk tolerance, and, frankly, the fact that never wearing shoes, bras or anything non-stretchy ever again has more than a little appeal.
Just sayin. Slogging through is so 90’s, early 2000’s for me. It’s heavy and I prefer light, even lite. Heavy happens, darkness happens, and I’m cool with that. It is what it is. But it’s so funny, like weird funny not ha ha funny, that even after everything some part of me still thinks that if it’s rough it must be good. If it feels difficult it must be worth doing. If I don’t like it that could be a sign I’m moving in the right direction. And if I’m feeling good, living my life, keeping it going, staying relatively safe and healthy, having some moments of peace and quiet even, I’m a loser. More will be revealed. I’m gonna keep going.
