Really Living 01 Jun 2008 09:55 am
Incubate
Today is a bad day. Yesterday was a bad day too but it took a few more hours for the last straw to be drawn. I know it used to be my habit to try to find the “bright side” of bad days, like some kind of Emotional Spin Doctor. Then, it grew into a cynicism tinged with a survival instinct: tuck your head and press on, “it is what it is”.
I think life has room for both. I also think I’m finding some comfort in what Thomas More calls, “Dark Nights of the Soul” in his book of the same title. That is…when one is suffering, it’s okay to not work like a banshee to try to find the good in it. It’s okay to not numb it away. And it’s okay to feel tired and not like fighting on sometimes.
He uses the word, “Incubate”, and when I read it, it was like a warm blanket on a cold day (which, by the way would also be one way to incubate one’s hurting soul). He means to rest. To just feel what it is. To not aggressively wish it away or manipulate it. Take care and nurture yourself instead.
My counselor says something similar. She says, “Well you’ll need to be gentle with yourself right now. Be kind to yourself.”
Physically, of course, life does not always provide an actual niche to crawl into and sleep something off. There is no beach retreat or quiet hours sans responsibility in which to heal. So it’s those times when the emotional space needs to be found, even if the outer self is going about business as much as usual.
It’s why I say out loud now, “this is a bad day”. Honest acknowledgment is necessary for incubation, and ultimately, healing.
Yesterday my car was robbed; the petty thief stole my MP3 player with ear buds, my camera, and strung the contents of my daughter’s purse across the seat. I had to “herd cats”, making me very late leaving town. The same cats got deathly ill, puking and pooping simultaneously in the car (they were in a rabbit cage thank God). We missed our turn off and swung 2 hours out of our way, got stuck in paralyzing traffic. Then, the car AC broke; the smell of burning rubber from some belt stinging our noses. It took $82 dollars to fill my little van tank (oh the criminality of gas prices!!!). There was NO MUSIC the whole way and I was tired. Some nasty man in a truck made a loud comment to me through my window while I ate my burger. And then, my car started sounding like a loud jet.
I got where I was going, even in enough time to meet my goal. I got nasty, controlling email, reminding me that some problems will never go away. Then I got some sleep on a very comfy couch. And then I woke up this morning and looked at my most-beautiful red-headed nephew and sweetly-mischievous niece; oh baby days sweep past so quickly. I don’t know if the car will run well enough to make it to the next stop, the day of appointments waiting for me. The server, which hosts all my business sites in addition to another few thousand, had a transformer fire and is currently down. Life is uncertain.
But that final straw came over coffee, with sun just a little too bright and my eyes just a bit too heavy from sleep: Every time I travel, which is almost weekly and has been for months, I am leaving someone I love. It is one long, seemingly endless, chain of “good byes”, “I love you”, “be safe”. There are no arbitrary places I visit, no places I’m anxious to leave.
In order to meet responsibilities, I have to masochistically work *towards* more “good bye” moments. I have to press on, keep moving, taking care of this and that, going here and there. I have to bide my time and hope some things will still be there in a future that may have more permanence. I have to hope that everyone else on the road is sober, that the trucks have secured their loads, that they are paying attention when the rubber flies off their tires. I have to hope that 215,000 miles can add another 50,000 to it, and confidently at that. And on and on.
Bottom line: I have to hope.
Always Goodbye-ing eats away at the energy to hope. Maybe that’s where an Incubator is called for most: a safe quiet-yet-honest place to lick wounds and have some of that energy renewed, when there have been too many small losses to bear. Today I don’t have any answers or platitudes. Today I just want to rest and let someone else do the hard work of hoping. And on the inside, that’s what I’ll be doing.
I think it’s important to note that this doesn’t mean there is “hopelessness”. I’m not without it; rather, I’m too tired to strive for it at the moment and thankfully, have others around me who I trust. Having security with them makes them a vital part of an incubator because it’s SAFE to not always be strong and happy-clappy.
To have a bad day is normal and it is human. It can exist without martyrdom or depression or despair or accusation. I’m letting it BE, knowing it will pass, knowing it is here for today.
on 01 Jun 2008 at 7:08 pm 1.Sarah @ Ordinary Days said …
Here’s to a better day in your near future. I’ll take a little of the hoping on my shoulders for you.
on 02 Jun 2008 at 6:13 am 2.Jill said …
Hug.
on 02 Jun 2008 at 7:27 am 3.gina said …
What’s that saying about success being not in never trying or falling, but in rising each time you fall? In SS we just got done studying all of Psalms 119- it is like that blanket for your soul for anyone in a huge trial like David was. I was going to try and pick out just one great verse from it, but it’s all good. Here’s a good section: verses 105-112. Hope today is better:-)
on 02 Jun 2008 at 11:27 am 4.Mary in Tennessee said …
I wish I could hug you across the internet.
> : ) <
Nope. That emoticon doesn’t quite do it, I’m afraid.
You’re in my prayers.
on 03 Jun 2008 at 9:37 pm 5.Susan said …
I too am reading “Dark Night of the Soul”. I find it so timely and I find myself sighing as I read. I know you are tired. Find those little pockets of rest and incubation where you can.
Hugs,
Susan