On Saying Yes (Journal entry 3.15.24)

 

A lot has been going on in my heart and mind, and things have calmed down for me considerably. Every day a new layer is added, and I want to write about it, but the amount of information and inspiration tends to get jumbled. Yet, I feel it is important for me to document.

It all started when something I wrote in 2015 showed up in my Facebook memories. It's called "For All My Midlife Friends" and if you intend on reading the rest of this blog post, you should read this first.

For All My Midlife Friends

Coming across this blog post, one I have long forgotten, made me see it will require an update. But thinking about the huge challenges I now face, I don't even know where to start

Here is what I wrote in my journal on Friday morning. I plan on continuing this thread over the next few days, so I hope you will hang in with me. I can always use that support!

From my journal:

Saying yes to going to college and becoming a teacher was scary and exciting.

But saying yes to not being fully in school and all that goes with Jim's health issues is not easy.

I want to say NO NO NO.

Let me work. Let him breathe.

But I cannot. And it hurts when I do because then I have to surrender to reality again.

IT SUCKS.

But saying yes right now feels like a failure.

Why? How long have I known surrendering to what is works better than fighting against it?

Revisiting the poem this blog post was written about "Calling" by Nancy Shaffer.

It's about saying yes to your calling.

And haven't I've known since January that I do, indeed, have a new calling?

Here's the rub--when I heard a calling to be a teacher, there were steps to take. And I had help.

Right now, I can only take one step at a time. There is no planning ahead. The uncertainty kills me.

I told my school my intent is to return next year. Then I wrote:

Reality: I don't know what will happen.

Living the in-between is tough. Having zero control is tough. Not being able to look ahead and say, "Next year, I'll do such and such."

And I don't have a helper.

I am alone in this.

I have to be the one here, watching things.

I hear that the nurse visits might stop. We need them!

Okay...phew. Shed some tears. Feel better....stronger.

Like I can do this.

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While I was writing this in my journal, I was listening to the new Kacey Musgraves album Deeper Well. The lyrics of "The Architect" seem to fit well for what is happening now. Seriously, I'd love to speak to the architect! 

Check it out.