To my pessimistic self
Yes, good things can happen too
The other day my husband was teasing me about our latest text exchange where, my reply to his “how is your day going?” was “good… so far.”
He thought the “so far…” affirmed my character in a way he found funny and endearing. At first I didn’t get what he was talking about, but then it dawned on me.
When we first started dating I remember us reading a quote at the Vancouver Art gallery that said, for some people life is a comedy, for others it’s a tragedy. We giggled as this pretty much summed up our respective out looks on life. He being a sunny, go getting, morning person, me being, well—the opposite!
Not that I don’t have a sense of humour or am moaning all the time, but I am by nature, sensitive and cautious, I have been known to say, “expect nothing and you won’t be disappointed!” to myself mostly, having much higher hopes for the lives of others. Confidence came slow to me as being bookish, deeply feeling and thin skinned were not qualities that were exactly celebrated in the 90’s. Easier to stuff them down and pretend I didn’t care as much as I did, about the environment, animals and vulnerable people. Easier to pretend I could be reckless and unaffected even if I hurt myself in the process.
One of the things I love about being alive is getting to know and understand myself. Not as a problem to be solved or a broken thing that can’t be fixed, but as a person becoming aware of herself.
I have found aspects of her in therapy, spiritual practice, mother-hood and grief, in visiting the dark, messing up and being a jerk and endless miss steps.
Speaking solely from my own experience, no one was giving me a harder time for completely breaking down when my mom died than me. I would see myself from the outside and want to shake myself into someone different. When I was effected by the work I do in the grief and trauma world as a support worker and therapist I would wonder if I was “too soft,” for the job. This is even after years of believing in and advocating power of softness and sensitivity. I would still find myself berating myself for not being more “resilient” more stoic and less… me.
I feel grateful for many things, but one of the main ones is the time I have been given to learn about myself, who I am, what I love, what I don’t. To forgive the shortcomings and failures and misses. To discover what things like resilience and strength look like for me. To take what lived in the dark and bring it into the light of my understanding and care.
It’s so easy to get into the compare game, especially in a culture and/or family systems where things like love and care are considered scarce and limited to a deserving few.
We are not all the same, we are not all going to get along and like one another, but one thing I do know form personal experience is that the more you extend a generosity of spirit to the dark and distasteful parts of you, the more capacity you will have for others, and we really need each other right now.
When I accept my tender, introverted soul and stop trying to make her into something else, I can accept my outgoing, gregarious husband. I can accept the friend who masks her feelings, and the family member who never admits mistakes. I can live in a world where people are different than me without needing to control, or change them because I am no longer doing it to myself.
This life can be so liberating, so rewarding and joyful.
And this is from a self proclaimed Eyeore.
So yes my day is good… so far, as is this time between grief waves. Life is good! and I know how fast things can change, and knock you off your feet.
I’m delighted to expect nothing, and be in awe of everything. Life is painful yes, but it can be full of joy and wonder too.