More than once in my life who I think I am and reality have collided and diverged. Never feels good. The ensuing discomfort is an opportunity for self-examination, reevaluation, and renewal.
That’s where I am right now, as I write, and I don’t yet have a clue where this will land.
I remember being a child and wanting so much to be an adult, certain that meant I would know everything and could do anything I wanted. Well, it took a nanosecond to get the wish of being an adult. Knowing and doing are taking longer.
When I was little, no one could have told me to take my time and savor every moment. I wouldn’t have understood, and even if I had, there were some moments that belonged in a trash heap rather than the honor of savoring.
Childhood left me broken, and I spent a good deal of my early adult years in the repair shop, reading books and seeing therapists in order to rebuild myself. I succeeded when I was 30. At least, I thought I had.
But life continues on and if we are even moderately awake, we realize we must stay open to new teachings and learning new ways of being present in this world and for our lives. Sometimes we move forward with ease. Other times, we must take a few steps back, sometimes even hibernate for a while, only to reappear into our new way of being in the world.
Despite all the personal evolutionary changes, and everything I think I’ve learned, I’m still me and remain quite capable of falling into old traps.
Let me pause for a moment to share Autobiography In Five Chapters by Portia Nelson, who played one of the nuns in The Sound of Music:
Chapter I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.
Chapter II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place
but, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
Chapter IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Chapter V
I walk down another street.
Most of the time I remember to walk down a different street, but sometimes I don’t recognize I’m on an old road and fall into a familiar trap I would have noticed had I been paying attention.
But having recently fallen into an old trap and the ensuing emotional hole, I soon understood they had offered me a gift.
A therapist friend of mine calls these AFGE’s—Another Fucking Growth Experience. Fortunately, this was not a full AFGE because those are significantly more painful and resemble more of a dark night of the soul. This one, which I last wrote about the other day, didn’t take long to figure out and repair any emotional disturbance. I also realize that had I not paid attention and learned the lesson, life would have continued to increase the pressure until the lesson felt like a large heavy foot holding me hostage until I chose to find the truth.
We’re here to learn and grow, and I highly recommend traveling with as much honesty and openness to change as possible. It’s when we’re uncomfortable that we’re most open to renewing and revitalizing our understanding of life and how we live each day. The frustration I felt the other day turned out to be an opening and opportunity.
I’m currently in that in between space I believe we all experience at various times in our life. It’s the beginning of a new growth spurt where something beautiful will bloom. I can’t say what at the moment because I just got out the gate and haven’t sprinted far enough or had enough time to realize the next step.
Before you rush to offer advice, keep in mind that what you are reading is where I was at the moment I wrote these words. I’m no longer there so you’d be attempting to help my past.
I’ll pause again to share the story of the butterfly, a favorite which I’ve used when teaching about working with grieving people
A man found a cocoon of a butterfly. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through that little hole.
Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appears as if it had gotten as far as it could go, and it could go no further.
So the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.
The butterfly then emerged easily, but it had a swollen body and small shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected that any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time.
Never happened!
In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man, in his kindness and haste, did not understand was that the restricting cocoon, and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the tiny opening forced fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
Sometimes the struggles are exactly what we need in our lives.
There’s a shift happening in me. Stay tuned. I’ll let you know what it is when I discover what it means and where it leads.
Thank you for sharing another great read from you!