Last year’s intentions were:
Be Present
Keep My Heart Open
Replace Drinking with Other Things in January
Replace Sugar with Other Things in January
Replace Shopping with Outfit Making in January.
Let’s take the last three boring ones off the table, shall we? I drank, I ate sugar, and I can’t remember whether I shopped or not. None of that seems particularly important right now. I can do what I need to do, when I need to do it, and those were meaningless challenges that I set myself because I felt I should.
Be Present. I was, in beautiful ways. Not always, but when things were very rough, or when Milo asked me to be, I was. When I didn’t know where something at work was going to end up, and the stakes were high, I was. I was sometimes present when I was actively, aggressively avoiding other things, and I saw what I was doing and was gentle on myself. I was present when I was verbally attacked, again and again. I didn’t sell myself out. I was present when I said at work, “Things are going wrong, and I need help to make them right.” I was present when I said, “I am sad, and scared and alone, and I need help.” I am going through the most difficult days of my life so far. Actually, that might not be true — for reasons laid out at the end of this post. This feels less bad than infertility did, because of the ground I’ve covered since then. I know myself better, and I’m more committed to myself.
That said, I might not have my current job nor my marriage at the end of 2018. And I am present for every minute of it, because I have to be. I have to alive to every possibility, and distinguish mere loss from catastrophe. I have to know what I am about and be alert to every change, to see shifts and patterns and opportunities and to hustle. And then to know when to rest, even though rest is the scariest thing — when you are riding a unicycle on a tightrope over a canyon, a pause does not feel like a good idea. So, yes, present. Maybe one day I’ll be able to retreat again.
Keep My Heart Open. I meant it in a physical sense: to keep my shoulders back and down and my chest lifted. But of course, the body and spirit and psyche follow each other in interesting ways. Keeping my heart open is not meaningfully different than being present. I was vulnerable, and have been more so since two of the pillars in my life started to crumble. I am not protecting myself because that feels dishonest. Well, that’s not true. I am protecting myself in ways that are wise and genuinely self-protective when I’m in danger of verbal abuse. I am not protecting myself from vulnerability, or shame, or sadness, or needing help. I am, rather, shining a giant spotlight on those things and you know what? In the bright light, they aren’t so bad. Shame, in particular, starts to look more like “everyone makes mistakes,” and “what you’re doing is really hard,” and “I admire your strength” and “we love you.”
So I did all this good stuff this year, hard, good, honest stuff, and I still might lose my job and leave my marriage. But through this, I am discovering an unbreakable self and deep integrity and all kinds of qualities that inhere in me. And those qualities will see me through to the other side.
(I would really rather sip champagne and watch The Crown and go to bed at 12:01 than go out tonight. I’m going out anyway, for Daniel. I still love him and want him to flourish. I’m not sure we can flourish together anymore. More on that later.)
Another Door 