On Losing Control

I stopped working on this blog for a bit in fear of being a hypocrite. I haven’t been close to finding contentment within my life lately and I simply didn’t have the energy to look. I started 2019 being visited by death. I watched my ex-husband, the father of my children, and a good friend die from cancer in six shorts weeks. Six weeks from diagnosis to gone. I had a front row seat as I volunteered to be caregiver. We had a complicated relationship. In many ways we were still each other’s “person” out of necessity and shared experiences. I have pondered this decision to care for him and to ultimately make the call to end his life when he was placed on life support. Perhaps I thought I could save him, perhaps I thought I would get to be a hero or ease his suffering. A little bit of all these things – but mostly, if I am honest, I needed to be in control. You see I am not one to stand on the sideline and let life happen. I want (demand) to orchestrate, to plan, to organize, to rationalize and to be okay with how things turn out. Don’t we all?

Life happens. Chaos wins – and the concept of losing control implies that we have some semblance of control to begin with. I am a bit broken, a lot cracked and feeling very fragile. There was this phase after his passing when I felt strong – forged in fire. I started this blog, went back to school (my first poetry class) and started taking control of my health. I saw a cardiologist, a sleep specialist, my gyno, had the overdue colonoscopy and the mammogram. I started a weight loss regimen. I needed to KNOW that I wasn’t dying and I needed to give my children the peace of mind that mom was okay. I wasn’t. Strangely, while pursuing a clean bill of health, I was stricken by severe bouts of lower abdominal pain. After six weeks (ironic), four doctors and five ER visits, a cause was finally found. Two days later, I underwent a radical hysterectomy before my Fallopian tube burst. I have felt fragile ever since.

I am mentally and emotionally and physically exhausted. The world is overwhelming. I am raw. I am pissed that life just goes sideways, even when I plan it out beautifully in my bright pink bullet journal. And this is an undeniable, inescapable FACT. But before you stop reading this depressing post, stick with me a bit longer –

I am still here.

I see a glimpse of the lesson I am to learn, of the wiser person I will become once I have some time and space to heal. Life is messy. It is painful for all of us. I am beginning to see that part of this Searching for Sukha is more than walks in nature, meditation retreats or playing with kittens on a lazy afternoon. It is about rolling up your pant legs and jumping in the shit puddles. It is accepting that life will fall apart and come back together again and again.

My world has more details now, there is a new depth and width to it. More pixels. More shadows. I will learn to take a deep breath and then another and begin to navigate this chaotic, uncertain, unfair world. I have often wondered when I would feel like an adult. That moment has arrived. I am aware, I am conscious and I am still here.