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being, growing, changing

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Paris Street Art

It’s not easy for me to look at my stuff–the way I confuse myself by denying some part of what I feel–my fear mostly–and I start to blame someone or something else, or look for an escape route.  When really I have to just own that change is scary. As much as I tell myself it will be easier, there’s a part of me who is inside screaming, “No it won’t!  It’s always sucked.  It will always suck.” And on and on with feelings that don’t have words.  Feelings that are both true (in that they’re a response to something from long ago) and false (in that they aren’t really about what’s happening now).

But then I recover, and remember that I’m just growing and changing as all things do.  I wonder if the flower bud feels like, “oh, I know it’s just never going to happen.” And then I see the ridiculousness of my thinking and can almost laugh at it.

impermanence

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our sky at night

Our sky at night is always different.  And we, as humans, are always different.  No two moments alike.  Impermanence is the name of the game.  Is that a planet in the sky?  Is it the reflection of something else?  Is it a tiny, far-away moon? What is it?  That’s another thing, we don’t always see clearly or know what it is we see.

I asked FH (Fabulous Husband) today, “Do you think I have Fibromyalgia or do you think it’s just this crappy job?…Or both?” (I have a diagnosis of FMS and I am an exhausted, overwhelmed teacher.)

Of course the answer is both.  I guess all I need to inch my way toward healing is Five Hundred pounds and a room of my own.  Not a pocket full of rocks and a river.  Well, I’m not there anyway.  I’m here.  Wondering if I really see something glowing in the distance there, in the future, like that little spot of light in the picture.  What is it?  I can’t really see it.

At least I can count on the fact that everything, including me, will change tomorrow, will in fact change by the time I finish this sentence.

approaching hope

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Tired now.  I had an appointment in Berkeley this afternoon.  Since I got a new phone, and I had the appointment recorded in my phone calendar app, it was supposed to, but didn’t transfer over.  I thought the appointment was at 5:00 pm.  Turns out it was at 4:40.  I was late. I hate being late, especially when I’m spending money on the time I’m missing…ugh!  I drove fast, but I tried not to stress too much.  Just let it go.  Technology helps and hurts.  Being late though, is something I could let go of.  The silver lining was that I got to hang out and have dinner with some friends who live over there.  So it was all good really.  Having fun and feeling connected.  Untitled

So I got home a little late, after a tiring 2nd workday back.

What I was thinking about though, in my appointment, was hope. Not letting go exactly, but connected.  I realized that I can only feel a certain amount of hope for myself and the future.  I have an ingrained belief that too much hope will lead to disappointment…then depression…then, who knows, complete annihilation.  So how can I inch by inch approach hope with a little more courage?  I know I have the tools to face disappointment. But something inside still says, “don’t hope for too much…it will turn out bad.”  Here is a belief that has had its day.  It is no longer helpful (although probably at one time it was helpful…even if it was just to fit in with my family of origin).  So, really, this thinking about hope, is about letting go.  Letting go of being afraid of good feelings.  Inch by inch, baby step by baby step, approaching my hope with, well, with hope.