I was walking in the park the other day and I noticed the sedate and serene creek had become a raging torrent. All of the rainwater of the past few weeks had breeched the banks and flooded the surrounding woods. The newly formed river was noisy, powerful and completely opaque. You could see nothing but the muddy gray-green flood.
I stood and watched it for a few moments, because that is what I do. It occurred to me that where I was standing were normally large chunks of broken concrete that spanned the creek; maybe they had been deliberately placed there for just such an occasion as this, a sort of upcycled weir. Or maybe some arsehole with heavy equipment and no imagination dumped them there. Whatever the origin story, by all appearances, they had completely vanished. I had, in the past, seen snakes sunning themselves on the concrete. I had seen ducks taking a break and children clambering across to get to the other side of the creek. The concrete wasn't pretty, but it was functional, and solid, and did not seem like it could be washed away, no matter how fast the flood waters were rushing through. So I made the educated guess, based on my past experiences and what I knew to be true about mass and physics and water (which isn't much), that the concrete pieces were simply submerged under the water and would re-emerge once the deluge subsided. A few days later and the flood is gone, the creek is back and so are the chunks of concrete. Yes, the chunks of concrete had been there all along, even though I couldn't see them. Yeah? You see where I am headed with this? Sometimes life happens, in a bad way, and we get overwhelmed by a flood of feelings, circumstances, changes, problems - all those things that spark that "You know what would help this? Get high and pretend its not there" response in the brain. Except you know, and I know, that that doesn't work. What does work is to stand still for a moment, think about what you know - the concrete is still there. The flood waters will subside. And you ask yourself are my supports still in place? Am I still heading in the right direction? Are my unpleasant feelings going to pass? Is it all going to be okay, sooner or later? And can I survive it? The answer to every question is "yes." And you know this to be true, because you have done it before; you have survived bigger floods and you are still standing. Sober. On your own two feet.
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So far today I have seen a bluebird, bluejay, oriole, hummingbird, cardinal, and goldfinch in my backyard. A veritable rainbow of feathered friends who have kept my attention on their lively beauty rather than on the fact that I am in quarantine with Covid 19. I can't complain too much; I have avoided the "cough" for nearly two years, unlike the 1,000,000 Americans who have already succumbed, including my brother who didn't survive it. Actually I can complain; I can complain a lot, but I am choosing not to do so. I am acknowledging the situation and understanding that it sucks and I am not happy about it, and then I am watching the birds.
(I just took a lengthy break because I spilled an entire cup of hot coffee, whipped cream included - I'm sick, so get over it - all over my coffee table, the rug underneath, the floor underneath that and the books stacked under the coffee table. I had to scream a profanity (swear jar), run for a towel, clean up the coffee and cream, move the table, take the rug outside, clean the coffee out of the rug, clean up the floor, wipe off the books and then make myself another cup of coffee. Yes, with whipped cream. And I have feelings about all of this, not the least of which are directed at my husband, who is also in quarantine, and who waited until I had completely cleaned up everything and then yelled from the other room "You ok?" (swear jar again)). So this is the consequence of me trying to write about the importance of what we focus on, lol. God says, are you sure you understand what you are trying to communicate here? And then he/she gives me the opportunity to increase my understanding. I am now moving past the coffee, rug, husband, and Covid 19 and am going to focus on a few deep breaths. There is always, always, always, something to be upset about; annoyed over; disappointed in; devastated by. Less easy to come by are the rainbow of birds to carry you out of those uncomfortable, relapse-inducing spaces. The birds (or whatever your happy place is) have to be a deliberate attitude shift away from what is distressing and towards something that is uplifting and affirming. Doesn't mean you have to ignore the feelings generated by the catastrophe. But it does mean that your day is going to go exactly the way you tell it to go. You can choose peace and birds, or frustration and high blood pressure. I plan for my feathered friends; I have areas of my yard set aside for their benefit. I get specific birdfeeders and food to attract the type of birds I would like to see. And they become my go-to to get out of my distress and back into my peace where I can then decide, with my brain and not my feelings, how I am going to handle five days in quarantine and my lazy husband. It is so important in recovery that you get the birdfeeders and food ready for any eventuality. You have to have the people, the places, the hobbies, the coping skills in place so that when you need them, all you have to do, essentially, is look out the back window. If you are struggling to focus on the positive, if its been difficult to find your serenity in the midst of the chaos that is life, its time to figure out what your "birds" are and consciously seek them out when things get overwhelming. Other "birds" that keep me even; books, writing, painting, listening to music, making music, spending time with my family and friends, talking with a therapist, watching British television, taking a walk, praying and meditating. What are your birds? |