I read a recent post on Facebook by a local politician stating that someone had called and threatened his children if he didn't act on what the person wanted. This idea of my way is the only right and just way is interesting. Consider a recent earthquake that took the life of so many in Turkey and Syria. I am fairly sure this is not the way many wanted this month to go. And yet I can relate to this very arrogance of expecting things to go my way.
Yesterday, Valentine's Day, I not just once felt my victimhood at being a divorcee. I silently resented those with someone to post about on Facebook or instagram. I loved once. And that person stopped loving me. Definitely an example of something that did not go my way.
However, as I looked into the memories of that ending, something occurred to me. Man, I held tightly to holding that love together. I did things that were truly harmful to myself in my attempts to save the marriage. I was gripping so tightly to a marriage that really did not exist and in my efforts, I was not respecting myself the same way that someone would when threatening someone else's children.
Thanks to the Work of Byron Katie and a lot of Yoga study, I eventually found my way back to myself. Or did I? Upon further reflection, I recognized this same over gripping to my son, despite my promise not to do that to him. Oh, I made sacrifices, letting him go to boarding school at the tender age of 13 years, and allowing all the vacations and time with his dad. But when my son turned 18 years and I realized he was his own person, legally allowed to make decisions for himself, including the decision to visit or not, I went back into a similar despair, focusing on what the right move is to keep him choosing me. I studied more Yoga, I threw my life into chaos, I returned to gripping tightly to my history as a climber and a coach. I suffered.
Then my dad died, aunts passed away, menopause arrived, and we all went into lockdown with Covid. The universe was delivering an excellent opportunity for me to reflect on what I was gripping. I did not consider that though. I gripped tighter, fighting my grief with productivity. I cleared the yard of trees that may block the view, I painted the house exterior, I redid decks, I gardened, I replaced flooring, I painted inside. I replaced windows, I sanded countertops and treated them. I redecorated... and on and on. All of this movement was an effort to thumb my nose at the prospect of aging and the grief of not seeing my son for a year was drowned in wine.
Perhaps there is no God, or universe pulling the strings. Perhaps there is only us here doing the best we can. But I do know this... when I stop gripping so tightly to MY WAY, I feel more relaxed and calm. I struggle less. I have more energy for the next move, in the same way when I am climbing and I stop trying to do it the way everyone else does and just go with what the rock seems to want from me, I experience more flow, more joy and often more growth.
Writing, journalling, podcasting... it's all about sharing the journey.