Creating Space

So my goal for this year is to create a personal space that is uniquely my own. A personal space that has richness and brings me happiness. A close friendship, a sacred pasttime, a place to be myself that is not filled with my family's needs.

Family... it's the most wonderful concept in the world and at the same time, can be stifling. We are defined by our families. They make us who we are and they make that identity persist even when we want to change and break free. There are pieces of us caught inside our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children. Miniature replicas of parts of us. There's no way to escape that constant reflection of the self. And there's no way to choose them or not choose them - they are there, for better or worse.

Lately, I find myself searching for something outside myself, outside my family, that will provide me the space to grow and change. A place where I'm not haunted by old judgments and harsh reflections. Letting go of pieces of me that dont work and finding new ways to relate to the world. That's what Ive wanted for years. But am I finding the tools to actually achieve it?

Healing

My brief encounter with Dahn Yoga and Master Im drove home one single, pervasive theme. I don't trust anyone. I really think that everyone is out for something and I doubt everyone's intentions. It's not paranoia - god knows my life has been littered with reasons not to trust. But it's more than that. It's almost like I use it as a shield to prevent anyone from really getting close to me. If I don't trust them then I have a reason to hide, to run, to keep them at bay. And I stay safe, but alone and very very lonely. One thing I noticed with Master Im was that I was desperate for him to reveal the "answer" - the one true answer that would break down the wall and set me free. But I know that the only answer is releasing the fear and the negativity and letting people, emotions, pain, and yes... healing in. But am I ready? I kept thinking tonight as we sat across a little table perched on the kitchen floor sipping tea and trying to come to grips with all that had transpired and what would be no more... that I want what he is offering, but I simply am not ready to accept it now. It was too scary, too changing, too powerful. And that's why I felt good leaving. I am used to feeling alone, feeling scared, wanting to run away and dreaming about - fantasizing in full color about - the next distraction, the next escape. That feels normal. Someone telling me that I am loved and I have the power inside of me to transform my life and find true happiness. That feels insane.

And so... on to South Mountain yoga studio with the rest of the drained, overworked throngs of moms and dads.... for something that feels more natural. Feeling lost and alone.

The Only Certainty About Cancer is its Uncertainty

I heard that quote from Farrah Fawcet, who is struggling with cancer herself and it hit home. I know that for me, uncertainty has always been extremely hard to deal with. So much so that I have often preemptively run away from something that could have turned out great simply because I couldn't guarantee that it would... So with the cancer struggle, it almost seems easier for me to live as though Mark will die quickly than to live in his mental world which has him beating the odds and living a normal length of life. That latter world requires too much hope and faith in the uncertain - all of which could come crashing down. Why is uncertainty and believing in the slim window of possibility so hard for me?

I know that when Mark and I dated, his initial ambivalence added to the long-distance nature of the relationship were devastating for me to wrap my head around. The wait and see, live in the moment, not knowing where we stand torture of a dating relationship was always a white-knuckle effort for me, waiting for the certainty of marriage or not, cement, concrete certainty. From the outside looking in, I wish I had just enjoyed the moment long enough to really learn about Mark and who he was without the chains of marraige. Putting cancer aside, I wish I had really understood him, delved into the creases and been open-minded and not goal-minded. But here I am, goal long ago achieved and again living in a quagmire of uncertain torture. But this time the stakes are very different. I have learned things about Mark that make me shudder. I have learned things about Mark that undoubtedly would have caused me not to marry him at all. And now I am sitting in the uncertainty of whether he will live or die. And whether I will be here as his wife for either event. There have been so many times I wanted it all to go away. His online cheating, his secret financial mess, his angry intrusive family, and most of all his cancer. And then there are times that I'm willing to stand in the uncertainty just for today. To see in him what I saw back when we were dating. The innocence of that friendship, the simpleness of it all. And I see his weakened body and I know if I were living in that body and if I was facing the uncertainty of illness and death, I would want someone in my uncertainty too. And I know Mark would stand in it - feet firmly planted.