The Other Shoe

It's been so long since I've had this feeling, this elated tingle. Since my wedding, I think. It's happened all my life, really. On and off, I feel like all is right with the world. I feel on the edge of a precipice, poised for greatness. I feel ready and capable and armed. And I sit here. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. My anxiety level is high enough that if I saw someone, I'd most certainly be recommended a medication of some sort. I sit with fear in my stomach, tension in my chest, in my jaw. I don't sleep well. I'm snappy. I'm growling. I feel like an animal backed into a corner. And all is right with the world.

So the result, I've noticed, is sabotage. I feel this agitation and fear from it's presence that I am not happy in my life. So I back away from the precipice. I distract myself with some other thing. Some goal or job or ailment so that I can get out of this feeling. I create chaos like a smokescreen. Like an octopus, I ink up a diversion and get the hell out of dodge.

So is this the result of my past? Is it a condition caused by disappointment, loss and upheaval at an early age? Is all the therapy going to eventually set in?! For the love of all things good, WHAT GIVES?

Well I can list what I know.

I know that there's habit associated with this sort of behavior. Even though in the deepest part of my soul I know that I will not just survive, but rock the shit out of the lousiest, most difficult situation (not to mention the best...see how pervasive it is?), I habitually fall back on fear. The funny thing is that in the muckiness of this situation I feel fear of loss. Really? Have you noticed it's feels a little heavy around here? Jesus O. Pete (as Clare would say). A five pound loss would make a difference. But here I sit in what I know, comfortable in my own despair, refusing to believe (out of habit) that there is anything better than today. My example for this is a pond. My proverbial pond. I have one. I love it. I swim in it. It's close by. The water is warm and there's lots of green around it. It's a bit overgrown and private and sunny. It's the kind of place where the air is thick like a blanket and you can actually see the air. There are things floating on the breeze, however faint it is. There are vines and turtles and reeds. That's all well and good. Except that just down the way, there is a natural spring. It's crisp and clear and clean. It's running fast enough that the pebbles in it are smooth. There is a waterfall and the air is brisk and clean. The sound of it is big and encompassing and serene. It's active and vital. You can see the fish swimming on the bottom and the sun is bright and warm. It's alert and fresh and alive. And I've never been there.

Fuck me. I've never even been there.

I also know that this behavior comes about in times where I can't see what's in front of me. It's a fear of the unknown. Right now I feel like I'm undergoing a lot of change in my life. My career is officially over for now. I have weaned my last nursling. I want desperately to loose the passion and art that I have been harboring for nearly 30 years. I can see so many options ahead for me and get stuck in the paralysis of analysis when trying to decide my own fate. The problem is, that there are a vast number of options that I've never even thought of. I have a ton of experience that supports the knowledge that when I let go of the outcome, I get way more than I ever bargained for. But what about the first step then? Which direction should that go?! Ugh. I'm annoying myself.

I also know that I have been surrounded by stories of loss lately. I know that I have a tender heart and have an odd willingness to carry the burdens of others. By this, I mean that I purposely access and carry around my own grief thinking that it might lessen the weight of another's. In my smart brain, I know this isn't possible. And yet here I sit with it. Fearing that any moment my baby will stop breathing, that my husband will fall to some terrible fate. That any of us will become terribly, horribly ill. These thoughts make my throat tight. And I fear that if I do not loose this burden, that I will attract this to myself. And this will complete the false belief that the other shoe will drop. I will complete my own cycle and gather more evidence that it's all a big, painful mess, this life.

Trouble is, it's not. It's full of glory and surprise and wonder. We each come equipped with super human strength. We each show up here with a hero's wardrobe and a direct line to the common heart. We are powerful beyond measure and more resilient than any of us know. We are MADE to survive.

Further, I assert that we are given a map to this place. I knew the way here to this precipice, this place where I stand, ready to leap. Shit. I may have even drawn the map. I created it all, didn't I? It's my land. It's my story. I can back away or I can leap. It's really up to me whether or not I use the wings. This life is what I asked for. This journey is one that I specified for my soul's growth. And I have the nerve to sit here and act as if I don't know what's it's all about. As if.

No wonder I keep lecturing Clare with these very same words. "God gave you that," I tell her. "And you have the right to use it. Stand up and walk, child. With gratitude for your very legs."

Where is not important. It is only the walking that matters.