Hard Lessons

Eat, Pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert 

I’m recovering from cervical spine surgery. My cervical spine, code name C1-C7, is a mess.  C4-5 literally caved on me and created all kinds of side effects like numb fingers and arms that felt like Mad Max was my personal trainer.  Having had two previous surgeries in the past three years, I debated whether I could just live with the pain until the doctor informed me, without corrective surgery the progression of my degeneration would eventually leave me a paraplegic. When viewed on the MRI, my neck was like a bobble head doll, precariously wobbling on damaged vertebrae compromising an already bruised and inflamed spinal column. My hands were getting number by the day. That got my attention. I’m not afraid to die. I am afraid of being a living, breathing burden to my loved ones. This surgery was more risky than having my hip replaced less than nine months ago.  It involved slitting my throat, close to  my vocal chords, trachea, and carotid artery not to mention all those tiny nerves running up and down my spinal column. I had to force my mind into happier thoughts in order not to dwell there.  My Ortho Surgeon reassured me he would be partnering with a Neurosurgeon, to assure a good outcome.  I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, which made it a little easier on me, however, I was warned to not fall or get in an accident before surgery and that left me gingerly tip-toeing for the weeks preceding. 

I have to be honest, I am growing weary of surgeries. I am even more tired of these long, drawn out  recoveries and six weeks with no driving, dependent on others to take care of my transportation to doctor visits, shopping and the added burden of entertaining me to keep social deprivation at bay. Normally gratitude is as natural for me as breathing, but I have to work a lot harder at it while in the midst of these recovery processes.  Silence, isolation, and I think even the medication opens up a big, black hole that I know I shouldn’t dive into, but out of pain and boredom, I often do.  It’s like an out of body experience.  I can see myself heading there and try to talk this other me off of the precipice, but it doesn’t always work. There I go tumbling into a sea of self-pity and dangerous thoughts. The kind of thoughts that wipe out my hard drive with everything on it that I’ve learned to keep myself in good thinking order. It is more difficult, when my physical body is healed, to get back on track into some semblance of healthy patterns, routine, and practice. 

This time, for some reason, it has been just a few inches easier to maintain an optimistic outlook.  Maybe I am becoming a pro at being broken and I’ve just accepted it. Or, maybe its something healthier than that.  I not only recite the serenity prayer, I’ve woven it into my recovering lifestyle. I’ve accepted the things I cannot change. I don’t have to like it, but acceptance gets me at least halfway home. 

Our thoughts have the capacity to make us miserable, and negative thinking can be especially insidious, feeding on itself, with the potential to become a self-fulfilling and self-defeating prophesy.  The process of pain recovery includes dramatically changing the negative progression starting with regaining cognitive and emotional balance through the application of acceptance strategies and mindfulness based practices. - Psychology Today

Peace then begins to settle in allowing me to find the truth, nestled in that part of my heart where God resides. When I get really quiet, He whispers, “All experiences are opportunities for you to learn lessons, grow, and evolve. Know this well and life will be easier.” I once again, sometimes begrudgingly, other times freely, depending on how miserable I've become-  accept. He’s right.  He always is. 

After my first surgery in 2014, while I was recovering,  I found out who my true friends were and how important it is to a positive, grateful life to surround myself with people who enhance it. I learned the true meaning of faith and walking boldly into the thing that scares you the most. I discovered I had no more patience for working in toxic environments, surrounded by bitter, unhappy, and mean-spirited people.  I overcame my fear of lack and failure and had both the courage and faith to  leave a miserable environment.  God, as usual, stepped up to the plate and carved a path for me to continue to pay my bills and detox from the negativity, giving me back my serenity and my smile.  Surgery One - Lesson Learned:  Have Faith -  Mustard Seed Faith.

My second surgery, I learned how incredibly  independent, resourceful, and strong I could be  as well as discovering the keys to my happiness were in my own pocket. No one else could make me happy.  And no one was going to swoop in and rescue me.   I was responsible for taking care of my mind and my needs, all of them;  my loneliness, self-confidence, sense of worth, peace of mind and healthy liaisons were up to me.  Surgery Two - Lesson Learned: I’ve been given all the resources to take care of me.  I am responsible for my serenity and happiness.

With this recent surgery, suffering seemed inevitable as I tried to adapt to more than a few awkward changes.  The neurosurgeon stressed, no BLT, not the sandwich, rather, bending, lifting, and twisting.  I have to wear a hard collar monster brace around my neck 24-7 for six weeks, except to shower and eat. I predict I will have water-wrinkled, plucked chicken skin at the end of it all. And, stalling dining, like a little kid being forced to sit at the table until she finishes her dreaded peas, has become the norm for me.  Anything to escape the suffocating clutches of my Miami J Brace which sounds like the name for a cool rapper dude. Only there is not one thing cool or attractive about it. I can't even figure out a way to bling it up being the diva lady I am. It's like they purposely made it ugly to slow you down. And,  do you know how difficult it is to try to projectile spit your toothpaste out past six inches of brace ledge supporting your chin? The bathroom mirror looks like a tube of toothpaste has been murdered in there.  I can't drink (neatly) without using a straw, including my coffee.  The brightly colored neon ones I purchased do lend an air of whimsey to my morning ritual.  Sleeping on my back is not a natural state under normal conditions, but back sleeping (and I use the word  sleep loosely) with your head encased in a vice?  It put an end to  my traditional lullaby of Friends episodes pre-slumber, something light and funny to fall asleep to.  I couldn’t even see the television. And, during the day, In my  boredom, I  tuned into the latest political updates, and spent time in my head wondering if our country would turn into a fascist state with a chubby, yellow skinned dictator with the chalkiest white teeth I’ve ever seen, at the helm. I wasn’t fooled by his expensive suit and red power tie. I found myself screaming at the television, “Use your big words. Give me a real plan and how you will achieve it!”  I had myself worked up into a fever pitch, addicted to the political poison on continuous drip by Fox news and CNN. 

Then, I read something:

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” —Viktor Frankl

What? Before I even had an opportunity for my blood pressure to skyrocket, I could turn the channel?  I could watch The Chew or Hallmark movies, fall asleep to the gentle sounds of nature and plug in my essential oils diffuser with a little Ylang Ylang to soothe me to sleep.  I could make a joyful ritual out of removing my brace and mindfully appreciate the delicious food in front of me, savoring every bite.  I could stop complaining about the brace itself and be grateful that it is holding up my fragile neck, and keeping it safe while I heal. 

Surgery Three - Lesson Learned:  Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional.

Into focus comes the big picture and I am continuing the journey on my road to transformation.  Thankfully, rest breaks are not only allowed, but encouraged.

My Open Heart

This summer my husband would have reached his 55th year.  Celebrating a lucky double nickle birthday was not in his life plan.   We were together for ten years, sharing seven of them as husband and wife.  I like to think of that period as my Golden Decade; some of the finest years of my life.  Maybe there is some validity to the energy of Love being magnetic and attracting more goodness and abundance into our lives.  The deeper I seemed to grow in my love, respect, and gratitude for him and our time together, my exterior world of job and material possessions multiplied too.  Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I was swept away into this magical land of beauty and blessings... and disbelief.  On some level I didn’t think I was worthy. What did I ever do to warrant all of this and such a man?   For the first time in my life, struggle ceased and I had ... plenty.  There was plenty of money, plenty of friendships, plenty of good health, plenty of material possessions, plenty of love.   Most of all, there was a peace and the kind of encompassing gratitude that lingers like very expensive perfume.  I thanked my God, my deceased mother, and anyone else I thought might have been responsible for the end to years of struggle.  Eight years into our cocoon of comfort, dark clouds crept in, chilled the air and blocked the sunlight.  As he struggled to save his life from the cancer cells that invaded every organ in his body, cynicism and grief threatened to take my soul. I simply could not believe this could happen to such a good man and it shook the foundation of my belief in a loving God.  I prayed for his life, offering up mine as a trade off, but there was no bargaining.  I thought God had not only closed the door on me, maybe some archangel told Him of some long ago misdeeds and I was blacklisted from His Mercy and Grace.  I never lost my faith that there was a God.  He just appeared to have too much faith in me that I could handle anything tossed my way and He clearly wasn’t into negotiation.   My prayers and pleading fell on deaf ears.  God went silent. My heart did too. 

Years of confusion and grief followed his death, and I couldn’t make sense of anything.  I had this belief that goodness and abundance was based on behavior.  No matter how hard I tried, that philosophy wasn’t working for me.  I was a good person, giving and compassionate.  I worked hard, took care of myself and continued to expand my knowledge and ability to carry my own weight on the planet.  I thought I put into the world what I wanted to see reflected in my own life. However, a nagging discontent with life and struggle continued to invade my days; not enough - job satisfaction, money, contentment in relationships or, most of all, self-esteem. 

Sometimes there is a Holy purpose for our world to come crashing down in a heap at our feet.  Mine did. I was forced to simply stop and all outer worldly distractions went away.  Gone were the jobs, the relationships, and the money. Time to be still and just feel all the hurt and grief, lying in wait to be acknowledged.   It got quiet enough to hear my own voice inside my heart begging to be let out, if only for a time; just to feel the sunshine and witness the majesty of a starry sky. You can’t hold on to the past inside a heart padlocked for safe keeping and expect to dance in the adventure of life at the same time.  If even God isn’t permitted entry, how are new gifts to arrive? 

Trying to recapture the past and the abundance of back then, is like trying to harness the energy of the tides. Memories are fond rainy day diversions, not a way of life.  Meaning lives in the moment and flows from an open heart ready to receive what each minute has to offer, whether it be sorrow or joy.  Abundance shows up not because someone else loved us, or we loved our jobs, or we have financial security.  It arrives because we are savoring every day just as it is, with a heart wide open, seeing it all through the eyes of Love.   All the gifts of the spirit reside there.  They flow outward in a Love that spills over into every aspect of our lives.  I cannot earn my way into this kind of abundance through responsibility, education, and good behavior.  An open heart, filled with love; offering love and accepting love back, held the keys to my Golden Decade. I’ve found the keys and unlocked my heart.  I plan to keep it open, no matter what.  

This summer, after many years of being tucked away for safe-keeping, just like my heart, I discovered our wedding rings,  I took them to a jeweler.  I wanted them both made into a single ring; a remembrance.  His band, was to encircle my finger as a whispered reminder that love always holds me close; both he and God.   My band, was to be molded into the shape of a free-style heart, scattered with the diamonds.   Each one symbolizes the extraordinary love already existing in my life.  Our rings and my heart are no longer padlocked away for old memories sake.  

I prefer living with this open heart, letting life feed it with whatever comes my way- joy, sorrow, prosperity or poverty.    I know what I had before, and all the important things in my life, grew because of that energy of Love and Love can only  flow into and from a heart wide open.  I am learning to savor the sensations of this vulnerable, open-hearted living and experiencing a new kind of abundance.  My prosperity is not limited to a single Golden Decade.  As long as I keep my heart open, every moment of my life is spun into gold, scattered with diamonds. 

Forgiveness Part One - Let it begin with me.

I’ve spent the past 26 years on a Forgiveness mission.  I’ve gotten pretty good at it too. I’m not saying I’m an expert because sometimes it takes me a long time to realize I need to put forth the effort, AND do the work. I don’t fool myself anymore into thinking it’s not work. It’s hard work; sometimes more difficult than others, it just depends on the impact of the damage done and how I perceive it affects my life.  A belief I’ve acquired which takes some of the sting out of   wrongs committed, is the understanding that life is a school and sometimes the best lessons are learned through those Forgiveness opportunities. 

 Honestly though, every now and then I think I rather like splashing in the mud puddle of thoughts of creative revenge, karma, and little self-pity... for awhile.  I figure I must get some payoff from it.  Or maybe it’s just part of the way I learn my lessons...  rehashing and searing into my brain cells, why I don’t want to go there again. On that path, with that particular person or institution.  After awhile, I am alerted to the suffocating fog of poisonous anger overtaking my life and I miss the way the light feels on my skin and in my heart.  Blindly groping my way out of it,  sometimes I feel hopelessly lost and forget how to even begin to forgive.   Many times I’ve had to ask God to help me with it because I just can’t get there on my own.  My pitiful, yet heartfelt prayer would go something like this.  “God, please show me what you see in this person/situation, because I don’t always see things like you do and I am not seeing anything redeeming in this individual right now.  I would rather get out my voodoo doll and use up an inventory of sewing pins.”  It’s honest and I believe my communication with my Creator needs to be that, even if it's raw and real.  I am still human and need Him to transform the impure to a purer vision.   We may hide who we are from others, but, there are no secrets from Him... He knows my heart.  That plea occasionally got repeated for a long time before freedom set in. I’ve just learned through the years, how incredibly important Forgiveness is to any kind of fulfilling life.   Bryant McGill professes, “There is no Love without Forgiveness and there is no Forgiveness without Love.” I want Love to be at the center of my life. 

Forgiveness, for me, is the golden key.  I can't afford the luxury of resentments and any unfinished Forgiveness business just blocks the gifts of the spirit I have come to treasure.  Years ago, before I learned the power of Forgiveness, I adorned myself with resentments and masked the pain of their weight with a few addictions, for a time... Especially the ones that broke my hurt into a million pieces, or threatened the basic needs in life of safety, food, shelter.... healthcare. But, I did learn about personal choices, and I don’t do that anymore.  Once you enter the kingdom of heaven on earth, it’s hard to go back and live in a self-imposed hell. The sooner I got rid of that negativity, the better.  

I thought I had the Forgiveness skill mastered.  Furthermore, there was nothing currently swimming around out there waiting to sink its gigantic teeth in and suck the life out of my joy. 

A few weeks ago, I took part in a 21 day meditation challenge designed to transform relationships.  I’m not a newbie to meditation; Guided, Mindfulness, and Kundalini, even dabbling in a little Transcendental in my younger years. Way back then, any excuse to leave my body was a way of life and welcome!   Each day during this challenge I anticipated the day’s meditation and lesson plan- sailed right through each one, and savored the peace it brought.  Then, along came Day 14 or so.  The topic....Forgiveness.  I thought rather cockily... “I got this down.”  In the midst of the meditation, I felt unwarranted tears streaming down my cheeks, and saw my own face within, sad, and pinched. It shocked me. What was up with this?  Then came the journal writing part. The first question, I wrote:

I have forgiven many people through the years.  My parents, husbands, employers, friends, institutions, family members, even God.   I know how important it is to not only my serenity, but also my health and well-being. I am confused why the meditation impacted me so profoundly with tears, sadness, and sense of unfinished business. I think my slate is clean.   

Well, well, well.... Apparently not.  My body and reaction was telling me otherwise.

The next question in the journal led with this thought provoker.  “If the person you need to forgive is YOURSELF, consider writing yourself a letter from the perspective of your true (Higher)  Self, offering compassion and Forgiveness.  Holy cow!  Forgive myself?   I knew how to Forgive others, but me? I sat cross-legged on my mat and again, the tears flowed. Had I hung onto that voodoo doll and been using the pins on me?  I pulled out a notebook and pen and wrote with abandon, feeling disembodied from my thoughts and hand.   I wrote this list:

1. I need to forgive myself for speaking and judging myself so harshly. 
2. I need to forgive myself for having unattainable expectations, ones I would never ask of someone else.  
3. I need to forgive myself for allowing others to treat me with unwarranted disrespect and going back for more. 
4. I need to forgive myself for the incredibly poor choices that have peppered my life from time to time.  
5. I need to forgive myself for failing to speak up for what I believe in.  
6. I need to forgive myself for thinking that perfection was an attainable and an admirable goal.   
7. I need to forgive myself for forgetting where I came from, and what my task is while I am alive.
8. I need to forgive myself for treating the grandmother of three of the most beautiful little spirits on the planet, with such loathing and disregard.  
9. I need to forgive myself for believing my needs and desires weren’t as important as everyone elses.
10. I need to forgive myself for not forgiving myself.... 

Part Two, over the weekend---  Write a letter from my True Self, the Holy DNA I came into this world with, accessible at anytime.  The One who sees all as it truly is, doesn’t judge,  loves unconditionally. The Teacher.  The Lover. The Father/Mother, The Source of All.  

God, I ask for wisdom to write my letter IN YOUR WORDS extending Your compassion and understanding, and ultimately Forgiveness....for myself.  The same Forgiveness I know I must extend to others, I now recognize I need to give me.