September 7, 2013
Today is Saturday, Sept. 7th. While Margie and I sit, side by side, on my living room couch, I'm expressing my concern about attending Mom's party. Will and I plan to fly to the Midwest on Sept. 17th to spend time with Mom before her celebration on Saturday, the 21st. Sunday, the 22nd, we fly home. Monday, Will will prep for his surgery, which is scheduled for Tues. the 24th.
At first, Margie reassures me that the woman she's known intimately since college will muster the strength to attend and enjoy her mother's gala celebration. In response to my dear friend's belief in me, my eyes engage somberly with hers while my head shakes, slowly from side to side.
Though I have no clue what's causing the depth of my fear, somehow I do know this: Whatever is tormenting me runs deeper than rallying my strengths to fly to the Midwest and enjoy my mother's celebration of life. Whatever this is that's lurking, menacingly, within the dark side of my mind feels much more powerful than my line of control. Rather than working to control this fear, I need to understand what it is, because I don't ever want it to arise and terrorize me, again.
In retrospect, I must have expressed myself with enough conviction for Margie to switch tracks, because as soon as I 'm quiet, my dear friend says: Annie, I learn something from you, every time we're together.
As this statement takes me by surprise, I ask: What could you possibly be learning from watching me paralyzed by fear?
Margie's reply surprises me, again:
Smiling warmly, Margie says: You aren't paralyzed, Annie. People who are paralyzed by fear do not work to uncover the main source of their torment. Rather than seeing you as paralized, I'm watching you work harder than anyone I've ever met to understand the source of your torment. As to what I'm learning, well, I'm watching your mind trying to figure out how to get yourself to a better place. (Upon hearing this, I'm reminded of Angie, who says: Annie, you don't let go of a problem till you pull out the main root and face the eye of the tiger.) Then, Margie continues with:
While you're moving through whatever this is, please be as kind and gentle with yourself as you'd be with your best friend. I know you well enough to believe you'll get to the other side of whatever this is … And with that, we lean in toward each other, and I take solace in Margie's loving hug.
Upon letting go of each other, I ask: Where did you absorb such wisdom? At that, Margie chuckles and replies: Some from reading, but mostly from listening to you when I was making my way through the dark, scary time of my divorce. And as memories of that time fly out of my mind, I smile in return …
Next, I ask: What makes you so certain that I'll get to the other side?
My friend smiles and simply says: You always do.
And somehow, I feel so much better that …
By Saturday evening, I'm re-energized enough to darken my lashes with mascara, brighten my cheeks with blush, and accompany Will and our friends to our favorite restaurant, which is covered, wall to wall and ceiling to floor with sports memorabilia, and the ribs can't be beat. Though my appetite does not rally, at least I'm smiling, engaging in conversation and beginning to believe that enjoying my Mom's party in two weeks might be possible, after all...
January 26, 2014
BTW ... Yesterday, I did make it home from the frigid Midwest with just enough time to unpack before Will and I were picked up by Angie and Mark. We four drove across the city to hold our dear friends, Jill and Jerry, close to our hearts in their time of need—because it's during our most vulnerable times that we treasure each other's friendship, most of all …
Today is Saturday, Sept. 7th. While Margie and I sit, side by side, on my living room couch, I'm expressing my concern about attending Mom's party. Will and I plan to fly to the Midwest on Sept. 17th to spend time with Mom before her celebration on Saturday, the 21st. Sunday, the 22nd, we fly home. Monday, Will will prep for his surgery, which is scheduled for Tues. the 24th.
At first, Margie reassures me that the woman she's known intimately since college will muster the strength to attend and enjoy her mother's gala celebration. In response to my dear friend's belief in me, my eyes engage somberly with hers while my head shakes, slowly from side to side.
Though I have no clue what's causing the depth of my fear, somehow I do know this: Whatever is tormenting me runs deeper than rallying my strengths to fly to the Midwest and enjoy my mother's celebration of life. Whatever this is that's lurking, menacingly, within the dark side of my mind feels much more powerful than my line of control. Rather than working to control this fear, I need to understand what it is, because I don't ever want it to arise and terrorize me, again.
In retrospect, I must have expressed myself with enough conviction for Margie to switch tracks, because as soon as I 'm quiet, my dear friend says: Annie, I learn something from you, every time we're together.
As this statement takes me by surprise, I ask: What could you possibly be learning from watching me paralyzed by fear?
Margie's reply surprises me, again:
Smiling warmly, Margie says: You aren't paralyzed, Annie. People who are paralyzed by fear do not work to uncover the main source of their torment. Rather than seeing you as paralized, I'm watching you work harder than anyone I've ever met to understand the source of your torment. As to what I'm learning, well, I'm watching your mind trying to figure out how to get yourself to a better place. (Upon hearing this, I'm reminded of Angie, who says: Annie, you don't let go of a problem till you pull out the main root and face the eye of the tiger.) Then, Margie continues with:
While you're moving through whatever this is, please be as kind and gentle with yourself as you'd be with your best friend. I know you well enough to believe you'll get to the other side of whatever this is … And with that, we lean in toward each other, and I take solace in Margie's loving hug.
Upon letting go of each other, I ask: Where did you absorb such wisdom? At that, Margie chuckles and replies: Some from reading, but mostly from listening to you when I was making my way through the dark, scary time of my divorce. And as memories of that time fly out of my mind, I smile in return …
Next, I ask: What makes you so certain that I'll get to the other side?
My friend smiles and simply says: You always do.
And somehow, I feel so much better that …
By Saturday evening, I'm re-energized enough to darken my lashes with mascara, brighten my cheeks with blush, and accompany Will and our friends to our favorite restaurant, which is covered, wall to wall and ceiling to floor with sports memorabilia, and the ribs can't be beat. Though my appetite does not rally, at least I'm smiling, engaging in conversation and beginning to believe that enjoying my Mom's party in two weeks might be possible, after all...
January 26, 2014
BTW ... Yesterday, I did make it home from the frigid Midwest with just enough time to unpack before Will and I were picked up by Angie and Mark. We four drove across the city to hold our dear friends, Jill and Jerry, close to our hearts in their time of need—because it's during our most vulnerable times that we treasure each other's friendship, most of all …
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