Soundtrack: Randy Travis, Diggin Up Bones
Grandma would be smiling right now.
The last several weeks have been intense for me. And, life as it is, must continue on. Methodically, I follow through my normal routines. I beat my alarm clock. I hit snooze and groaned. The sun is still resting when I wake, which is changing as the spring nears and soon he’ll greet me. I uncovered myself from Kazho or Sox. They like to take turns laying on my chest, my legs or beside me. As if they know when I need to be held, just when the need is greatest. I often wake to find them there. A purr and meow, then they brush against my legs as if to lure me to their food dishes. They have trained me well, and I obey. I hobble to the kitchen trying to shake the sleep off my body then I pour my morning coffee. Black and bitter. Good morning.
My grandma and grandpa had a cassette player in their little 1987 tan Toyota pickup. As with almost every small truck that I remember as a kid, the rust was excessive around the wheel wells. The truck, comfortably made for two people, also had a me-sized seat straddling the stick shift. It was also right in front of the magical music box. This thing that you fed square blocks into and you got to tell it what to play. And even if you didn’t give it the blocks, it would occasionally play something anyway. Lots more people talking, but sometimes… They loved country music, and I liked what they liked. I mean grandpa loved “Dolly.” He loved Dolly Parton so much, that he joked with anyone that would listen, about how she was his girlfriend. Side story… It was a running joke until the end, and even then, I placed the picture of Dolly that he had on his wall inside his coffin. So CMT was always playing and some country station was always in the background. There were not many other types of music that I remember from that part of life. Certain songs stuck with me, and I remember getting so excited when they would come on. One song that still plays in my mind, 30 years later, used to play in that little truck. The sound of his voice, deep, manly, strong… Randy Travis… Specifically the song, Diggin Up Bones.
The song always comes to mind when I am digging in my emotional closet; when I am unearthing things buried or when I am exploring the caves that I have long since vacated (and only visit when I am shamed and tuck something away. I try not to do that… but it happens. Some people call that survival.) My point is that it is a triggered memory that has played mentally for me a couple of times this week. I had to go into the caverns. I took a flashlight and hesitantly walked the corridor. My hands traced the walls and I left crumbs as I ventured in… but there was no hope in sight. I got stuck. At the point that I drafted the skeleton for this post, I was deep within a funk. A hopeless sort of funk. A purposeless stagnant sense that was stuck in neutral. I would rolled to and fro with the rest of the normal that I encountered, but the fog did not waver for a couple of days.
I did make it to the other side. I was in more of a funk than I have been in some time. Taxes, financial worries, obligations, and normal daily activities. The straws and the camel seemed to meet up. It took some quiet time, a few songs, and feedback from Q to really see straight again. Sometimes, I think we have to go through it. We have to endure. I have heard a lot of people mention that making it to the other side toughens a person up. Like resilience to a cold maybe? I am hoping that maintains true for me as well. I will say that over the years I have become more adept at navigating the rapids. Sometimes leaning into the current. Other times, using an oar to push you away from the rocks. And if I am being honest, like Q, there are times when the life preserver is the best tool in our toolbox.
I guess the summary goes something like this. We have deep and dark places where we hide unpleasant things. We stack things on top or sweep them under, and avoid the hallways to that place. But we have to walk down that way from time to time, and if you are like me, blocking time off to dedicate for this process is extremely useful. Shining light and moving pile by pile helps me manage the darkness that prowls. And while it is a very lengthy process, it is manageable. I think that we each need to have an inventory of what is down there. An awareness that can be parsed out little by little as you are ready and able. There is no right way to deal with the dark place. And no one is going to fix it for you, or shine the light and make it disappear. But just like a scary movie, it is nice to have someone that will hold your hand. The support that you can crash into. A no-judgment zone. And I am blessed to have that.
The week pressed on. Life pressed on. I was still able to perform my normal routines and attempted to perform all of my normal responsibilities. Then, with a lot of digging, I found the bottom. I saw what I needed to see. I found the rope that I needed to find and then pulled myself out, as the voice on the other side (maybe reason?) led me out. We will all need to go through things. We cannot escape that, or at least I have not found that way. So, while there, take a look around. Make some notes and find your lessons. Looking back later, we can say, “been there, done that.” And use it as a map when it happens again.
from WordPress https://ift.tt/39A5Vo0
No comments:
Post a Comment