If you’re thinking, “This isn’t my life.” I’m feeling ya. But I guess there’s no real denying the obvious; we are here, it is now, and the only break we are going to get is what Tolle says- it’s not your life, it’s your life situation. I know, it feels like semantics right now. Life situation, my life…whatever. It hurts. It’s not going as planned- we don’t even know the plan and from everything we have read- it’s the plan that keeps us stuck in the life that we don’t have, but the situation we perceive it as.
I don’t know about you, but I’d like to chuck my laptop clear across this room right now, burn my books and tell the Dynamic Duo to take a hike.
I keep asking them for something- a sign of some sort- a text from anyone, a bird, a book, a song, a magical moment…and when I get any of that, I ask for more. Bigger. Make it something or someone who will erase this god forsaken pain and make it vacate my being…but then nothing. Silence. Me. Just me. And the faith that they are here too and somehow, not only will I make it through this hell, but I’ll be better for it and, thankful. Yep. Just like when mom died…years later. Years. God, please don’t make me do years. I try to strike up bargains; I’ll give you this if you get me that…I try anything. I beg. I scream. I cry. I surrender and expect the pain to just lift out of my being…but I swear, it’s like they are saying, hurt more. Maybe they are. Maybe I should. I’d rather not though.
It’s a lot, isn’t it? We read books where people are telling us how to get to where we want to be, where they seem to be…but we are where they were before all of that. It makes it seem trite in a way. Their descriptions are brief…I was in hell, it was horrible, I made it through and now I’m here- Yay! I want more hell. I want the days, weeks, months, of on the floor, sobbing, cursing God, parents, ex’s, self…I want the blood, the broken paths, the things that didn’t work, the process of what it took- really took, to get to where they are telling me I can get too. I want my life situation to look like someone else’s.
I want to call my father and say, “Are you happy now? All those years you spent thinking and telling me that I was just like my mother? And now look! I’m just like her! You could have said anything else- that I was perfect and special, not like anyone ever on earth, that I could be anything and you would love me no matter what…You could have loved me no matter what. You could have come to my mother’s funeral and held me. You could do anything different to heal us, to heal you…”
But he can’t.
He can’t do it.
Chris can’t call me and say, I’ve read the books, I’ve watched the shows, seen the light, had my sign…He can’t.
I don’t understand that. But I should. Because I’m sitting here. I’m on the floor. I am so hurt, so decimated. I’d compare it to when my mother died, but if I do then I will have to go back to that day and grieve the loss I never grieved. I will have to face and see all that I haven’t looked at in years. More pain. I could do something different. I could change my life situation…
Why don’t I do that?
Why do I wait for signs and sounds, when the Dynamic Duo have left me in silence to hear the answers?
What am I waiting for?
Be still and know that I am.
Why can’t I live that?