At the end of October, the stars aligned to teach me a lesson. I don't mean that in a bad way, at least not NOW, but at the time, I wondered why calamities fell all at once, and it did feel very, very bad.
I always thought that dying would be easier than watching someone die. If fully engaged when something happens to you, you don't have time to do anything but experience it. Watching tragedy is much more difficult -- there is a propensity to project feelings on the person experiencing 'the thing'. Case in point -- several years ago, talking to other stay-at-home moms at a park, one asked me about my husband. When I told her we were divorced/separated/whatever we were at the time, her head cocked to the side, face mildly screwed, brow furrowed, and then the sound -- "awwww..." Like, "Poor you; how awful; wow, how do you do that." Something took over me, and out of my mouth came, "Hey, it isn't that bad, and I know that hearing this makes you think how difficult and sad it would be if that happened to you." The sarcastic, in-your-face me said -- yeah, score! Nailed it! Of course, the look on her face changed from pity to fear, and I guess the conversation was pretty much over. Way to make friends, Cate.
Back to the late October lesson, or as I have come to know it as the "correction". Money issues, job pressures, teenager drama, and me on stress overload and running, running, running to catch up, keep up, weighed on me. Driving back from my usual morning kid drop off in Raleigh, the car made a soft bump sound, and I lost power completely. Dead. No power. With no time to think of how on earth I could afford repair, I slipped into problem-solving mode. I called my usual mechanic and I learned he would be out for 2 weeks on a cruise. The downtown mechanic I used in the past didn't answer the phone, but I towed the car to his shop anyway, only to see a note on the door that they would be closed on this lovely Friday and would be back Monday. I left the car and the troubles in Raleigh for the weekend.
Eventually, the weekend turned to the week of an unfixable car, and a decision to be made.
I happened to be reading a blog about this time, written about this timely topic. In this blog post, Eric at Wisdom Heart explores the 'good why and the bad why' -- introduced me to asking, instead of why did this happen to me, to asking why this happened for me.
I know the seduction of being a victim -- the sympathy, the soft looks, the offers to help, to be available at all hours to talk. The trouble with 'victim' is that most people have a shelf life on dealing with those who have troubles. Some don't give you three seconds before they are over it, and others continue to feel badly for you and offer support in what ever way they can. The victim stance is worse for the victim, because it can have a life of its own. Things in motion have a tendency to stay in motion -- until the timing belt breaks and it is all over, ma'am.
From the car break down to now, I have experienced pity (from others and myself), decisions (what to do about getting another means of transportation), judgement and evaluation (I was lucky to have a bus a six minute walk from my home that took me to work in 10 minutes, yet some people could not believe I was taking the bus, as if it was, I dunno, beneath them to consider). I was frozen in moving past being bus girl to being having a car girl. Enter my very good friends, who offered rides to grocery stores, assistance in looking at new and used cars, and even the use of a spare car, along with much emotional support. Still, my inability to pull the trigger and move myself past being under or on top of the wing of friends to taking responsibility for getting back on my feet was a mystery to even me.
There are two basic ways that motivate: pain or pleasure. I have always been more likely to be externally motivated by pleasure, encouragement and assistance, yet to be fully truthful, the style I use on myself is about 30% pleasure and 70% pain, focusing on fear and avoiding instead of making decisions, moving forward. If moving forward is taking responsibility and anti-victim, avoiding pain focuses on what I can lose, and being afraid of loss. Even if the end is good, the means of fear of loss is so very bad for you. So, friends are supportive and softly remind me of consequences, and inside, all I focus on is con-se-quence and fear of loss. If I can look at life as a series of branches, not a line to follow, I can make a decision, the best one at the time, and if it turns out to be not optimal, I could make another decision. What a concept!
I finally decided--chose--to make forward motion, not to further wear thin on my dear friends. I bought a used car, within my budget, and will soon return the car my most generous friends loaned me. This weekend marks the end of a month of trials, and learning new ways to move forward, and to see calamities as growth they can offer me.
