Thursday, March 22, 2001
Coming to Grips from Below - To LTF
I had an epiphany about my stressing out over every little goddamned thing, including being alive. I decided not to protect myself/my survival or worry about protecting either, anymore. As soon as I decided that I felt so much better and it's lasted for more than an hour.
The epiphany happened curiously. I was driving home from somewhere Tuesday night and someone heading the opposite way decided to pass someone else. When the car pulled into my lane the driver really should have pulled back. S/he didn't really have enough room to pass unless s/he pulled back or I pulled off the road (it was a two lane rural road) or slowed to about 5 miles an hour from about 50. Normally I would have hit the breaks and pulled off the road. For some reason, Tuesday night I got this rush of adrenaline and psychically alerted the other driver, "Go ahead, asshole, kill me! I really don't care. Just do it. Let's get this over with."
It took a few seconds for the other driver to realize he was facing down someone who'd had it. In those few seconds I thought about how my death would affect my mother and my sisters and realized that, although they would be incredibly saddened they are all survivors, including my mother. They'd carry on. The other driver couldn't pull back into their own lane so s/he swerved off the road on my side. When it was over I broke into a sweat, pulled off the road about a mile on and sobbed. Then it hit me. I did exactly what I needed to do. I stopped fighting. Stopped protecting myself. At that moment, I stopped crying. Everything fell into place.
I'm still protecting my mother and her survival to the best of my ability, at which I know I'm sometimes not very adept. I'm still stressing out about that, too. But I realized that a large part of my stress was being caused by worrying about keeping myself alive in order to see to it that my mother's life continues as long as she wants it to continue and then keeping myself alive after her death as a resource on our mother for my sisters. I'm not doing that anymore. I remembered that although I hate what I'm expected to do in civilization to survive (and, what I have to do to ensure my mother's survival), that's all I hate about being alive. All the rest of the stuff I love. I've experienced a lot of the other stuff, much of it without intention. I'm not worried about how much more I get to experience. Never was. But since the part I hate is protecting myself from all the other people engaged in the fight to survive and thrive, thus joining in the fight, I'm just not going to do that part anymore. This decision has made a huge, benevolent difference just in the last few days.
I don't expect this decision to affect my life much before my mother dies. After all, I am alive right now because she needs my help and can afford to have me stumble through the companion/caretaker role full time on her behalf. When I was in Seattle and she asked me to live with her I had made exactly the same decision, had had exactly the same epiphany, although without the near accident. I wasn't going to struggle anymore. I was just going to let it happen and continue to embrace all that I love about being alive. I had already started letting it happen. It didn't involve anything radical. I'd just relaxed, able to enjoy the ducks and their pecking. I didn't feel like I needed to shield myself anymore or shoot the ducks or call for reinforcements. Ducks are interesting animals once you stop thinking of them as enemies. They are interesting even when they think you're the enemy.
Once I took on the role of my mother's companion, though, I guess I thought that in order to protect my mother I had to resume protecting myself. Now I realize I don't have to do that. I'm not doing my mother any good adding to the stress that handling her complex life stirs in me by stressing out about whether or not I'm surviving, whether I will continue to survive and struggling to make it so. If she outlives me some one of her other daughters will take up the slack and they'll do just fine. They'll probably be better at her the business of her life than I am and she'll, by the force of her nature, cause them to handle her personally at least as well as I have. She has an indomitable spirit. If I outlive her I don't have an obligation to struggle to stay alive for my sisters. I am not a repository for my mother's life, my mother is.
So yesterday morning and this morning are the first mornings in a long time that I've awakened naturally from sleep rather than being blasted out of bed by a panic attack. I did experience some anxiety mulling over my mother's tax documents and scheduling a few more appointments with OCC, the bank, the inspectors and the carpet cleaners. I still cursed the business world. And I'm still terribly and guiltily behind on some of this stuff. But tonight I feel good. I even enjoyed the anxiety and all the other shit as though it was another opportunity to see what it was like to be anxious and feel like shit. I'm not worried. When I walk I don't expect to be crying for three miles and then trying to compose myself for one mile before I return home. I have to get up at 0500 tomorrow and I know I won't get to bed before 2330 or midnight at the rate I'll be going, but I remember I used to love nights and mornings like that, they're invigorating. I'm looking forward to them again. What a difference it makes when I stop fighting. What a fucking difference.
The epiphany happened curiously. I was driving home from somewhere Tuesday night and someone heading the opposite way decided to pass someone else. When the car pulled into my lane the driver really should have pulled back. S/he didn't really have enough room to pass unless s/he pulled back or I pulled off the road (it was a two lane rural road) or slowed to about 5 miles an hour from about 50. Normally I would have hit the breaks and pulled off the road. For some reason, Tuesday night I got this rush of adrenaline and psychically alerted the other driver, "Go ahead, asshole, kill me! I really don't care. Just do it. Let's get this over with."
It took a few seconds for the other driver to realize he was facing down someone who'd had it. In those few seconds I thought about how my death would affect my mother and my sisters and realized that, although they would be incredibly saddened they are all survivors, including my mother. They'd carry on. The other driver couldn't pull back into their own lane so s/he swerved off the road on my side. When it was over I broke into a sweat, pulled off the road about a mile on and sobbed. Then it hit me. I did exactly what I needed to do. I stopped fighting. Stopped protecting myself. At that moment, I stopped crying. Everything fell into place.
I'm still protecting my mother and her survival to the best of my ability, at which I know I'm sometimes not very adept. I'm still stressing out about that, too. But I realized that a large part of my stress was being caused by worrying about keeping myself alive in order to see to it that my mother's life continues as long as she wants it to continue and then keeping myself alive after her death as a resource on our mother for my sisters. I'm not doing that anymore. I remembered that although I hate what I'm expected to do in civilization to survive (and, what I have to do to ensure my mother's survival), that's all I hate about being alive. All the rest of the stuff I love. I've experienced a lot of the other stuff, much of it without intention. I'm not worried about how much more I get to experience. Never was. But since the part I hate is protecting myself from all the other people engaged in the fight to survive and thrive, thus joining in the fight, I'm just not going to do that part anymore. This decision has made a huge, benevolent difference just in the last few days.
I don't expect this decision to affect my life much before my mother dies. After all, I am alive right now because she needs my help and can afford to have me stumble through the companion/caretaker role full time on her behalf. When I was in Seattle and she asked me to live with her I had made exactly the same decision, had had exactly the same epiphany, although without the near accident. I wasn't going to struggle anymore. I was just going to let it happen and continue to embrace all that I love about being alive. I had already started letting it happen. It didn't involve anything radical. I'd just relaxed, able to enjoy the ducks and their pecking. I didn't feel like I needed to shield myself anymore or shoot the ducks or call for reinforcements. Ducks are interesting animals once you stop thinking of them as enemies. They are interesting even when they think you're the enemy.
Once I took on the role of my mother's companion, though, I guess I thought that in order to protect my mother I had to resume protecting myself. Now I realize I don't have to do that. I'm not doing my mother any good adding to the stress that handling her complex life stirs in me by stressing out about whether or not I'm surviving, whether I will continue to survive and struggling to make it so. If she outlives me some one of her other daughters will take up the slack and they'll do just fine. They'll probably be better at her the business of her life than I am and she'll, by the force of her nature, cause them to handle her personally at least as well as I have. She has an indomitable spirit. If I outlive her I don't have an obligation to struggle to stay alive for my sisters. I am not a repository for my mother's life, my mother is.
So yesterday morning and this morning are the first mornings in a long time that I've awakened naturally from sleep rather than being blasted out of bed by a panic attack. I did experience some anxiety mulling over my mother's tax documents and scheduling a few more appointments with OCC, the bank, the inspectors and the carpet cleaners. I still cursed the business world. And I'm still terribly and guiltily behind on some of this stuff. But tonight I feel good. I even enjoyed the anxiety and all the other shit as though it was another opportunity to see what it was like to be anxious and feel like shit. I'm not worried. When I walk I don't expect to be crying for three miles and then trying to compose myself for one mile before I return home. I have to get up at 0500 tomorrow and I know I won't get to bed before 2330 or midnight at the rate I'll be going, but I remember I used to love nights and mornings like that, they're invigorating. I'm looking forward to them again. What a difference it makes when I stop fighting. What a fucking difference.
