After a night of mostly interrupted sleep, I was awake early this morning. To fill my time in the early morning hours I visited the sites of some of the truly interesting people I follow in the online world. One blog I found myself drawn into this morning was Portraits of Wildflowers where Steven Schwartzman shares uniquely beautiful images of wildflowers and other flora and fauna he discovers on his excursions into nature. Looking at his photographs, I don’t feel so shut away and I learn things I wouldn’t have an opportunity to otherwise.
This morning as I clicked through some of his recent posts, I had visceral reactions to some of the images. One in particular, a photo of a hairy white larkspur flower (Delphinium carolinianum ssp. Penardii) before its petals opened, made the hair on my body stand on end. I can’t remember having that kind of reaction to a flower before. The image of a rain-lily (Cooperia pedunculata) tricked my eyes into seeing the soft brush strokes of a floral portrait. While the bent stalk of a bright yellow four-nerve daisy (Tetraneuris linearifolia), and the words Steven Schwartzman used to describe its fate, inspired my brain to connect with the tips of my fingers to create an ode to that single delicate bloom.
On days like today, I don’t mind not having slept much. Creating something has a way of making me feel grounded and easing agitation and anxiety that is sometimes caused by a lack of sleep. Besides, how can I not feel lifted by a bright yellow daisy or Steven Schwartzman’s generosity in granting me permission to post his image?
Literally seeing more clearly is a wonderful thing. I recently went to have my long overdue eye examination. I should have gone for my check-up around the time I became ill almost three years ago, but each time I scheduled an appointment I had to cancel it because my pain was too intense for me to push through it to travel to the appointment. I was forced to go now because the changes in my vision couldn’t be ignored any longer and my old glasses finally stopped helping me see things better. I started developing a pronounced vertical line between my eyebrows from squinting my eyes to see just about everything. It didn’t help that I had to hold things up close to my face for me to read or see details.
When I picked up my new glasses a few weeks ago, the improvement in my eyesight amazed me. Even in dim lighting, I can read small print from a significant distance away, which means it might be less difficult for me to get through reading a book now, instead of only reading articles online with a high level of zoom. Drawing and colouring aren’t as frustrating either because I’m having an easier time connecting lines with the fine points of the pens and pencils I’m using as I build my creative skills. I’m seeing details in things I had completely forgotten existed. Although, I’m not sure I need to see all my new grey hairs or every pore in my face. An added bonus is that the line between my eyebrows is fading because I no longer have to squint while holding things against the tip of my nose to figure out what’s in front of me.
I also connected – however loosely – what I’ve decided to describe as a “metaphysical vision improvement” to getting new glasses because I’m seeing some things from my past more clearly. Having as much time on my hands, as I do these days, makes it difficult not to spend some of that time combing through past events and painful memories. Even though the moments are long gone and I know I can’t change them, it’s hard not to replay them. A few weeks ago, I spoke with a cousin about our past romantic entanglements and some of the lessons we’ve each learned from our respective relationships and breakups. After that conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about one situation that years ago caused me a lot of unhappiness. I turned it over in my mind so many times that if it had been a living, breathing thing it would have developed a severe case of motion sickness.
I was fortunate enough to be able to reach out to someone who, after all these years, was able to give some helpful insight. What she told me confirmed that as much as I was hurt by what happened, it was the best thing for me. In that past relationship, I didn’t have the freedom to express my true self and I was forced to lie to people who love me to hold on to someone who could never fulfill my needs and made me doubt myself and feel insecure. The conversation we had helped me to let go of any lingering doubts and reminded me how easy it is to allow emotions and thoughts to suck us into a downward spiral where it’s almost impossible for us to see the truth sitting right in front of our noses.
Freeing up that emotional/psychological space and energy made room for something more enjoyable. The one thing that has been constant during the ups and downs of relationships and illness in my life is poetry, and each poem I write shows me truth I’m not always aware I know.
Every once in a while, I do something that makes me question how rational, maybe even how sane, I am. Friday was one of those times. On Friday morning, I had my first appointment with a new cleaning person who came highly recommended by my friend R. She works with the cleaning staff at R’s work site. A few months ago when I told him what happened with the woman I hired to clean my place and do my laundry, but who chose to take advantage of my situation instead, he put out some feelers to see if there might be someone willing to work for me on a casual basis. Lucky for me, someone on his staff responded to his request. After playing a long round of phone tag, we finally connected, and I laid out for her the kind of things I need done and the rate I’m able to pay. She accepted my offer then we agreed on a day of the week that works best for both of us.
Here’s where my insanity kicked in. Before she arrived on Friday morning, I felt panicked. My place was what I consider a disaster area. Although, to most people who come to visit me it still looks clean and organized, I can’t cope with the mess I see. I got out of bed earlier than I needed to and started cleaning up. I put away the pile of clothes that had grown on the side of my bed I don’t sleep on either because they were not put away the last time my laundry was done or because that’s where they land when I decide an item of clothing isn’t what I want to wear. I rolled up my yoga mat and put away my sneakers. I washed the pots, measuring cups, utensils, and bowls I used a couple of days before to cook asparagus and mushroom risotto, but then didn’t have the strength to clean up after eating what turned out to be a delicious meal. Then I turned my attention to the growing assortment of art supplies I have, which I packed into one of the many boxes they arrive to my home in that needed to be put out for recycling.
I know how this sounds, but I couldn’t help myself. The clean freak that’s been living in my head since I was a little girl insisted that I make a good impression on the person who was coming to clean my home for the first time. I still can’t believe I did that: I staged my home to look less messy so I wouldn’t be judged. Even pain can’t override the unachievable expectations and rules hardwired into my brain that make me behave irrationally. I’m so embarrassed that I did this I haven’t told any of my friends or family. The funny thing is that if one of them told me they did this I would laugh at them and tell them how ridiculous it is to do something like this when the purpose of paying someone to do it is so you don’t have to. DUH!
Being a perfectionist has been a significant issue throughout my life that stems from a need to control things. Even though there has been an upside to it, like having a strong work ethic and being independent, the downside is tremendous. Feeling that other people in your life can’t live up to the standards you set for yourself is one of them, especially when it’s impossible for you to meet them yourself. It also becomes a problem when, like on Friday, you hire someone to do something for you but question whether he or she will judge you because you can’t do it yourself or if they are competent enough to do what you need – she did an outstanding job by the way.
One of the things I’m learning about perfectionism is that even if you don’t ask the questions out loud, your actions ask them for you. I clearly still have a lot of work to do to overcome the need to control my environment and my image; and I must let go of this need soon because the potential downside now is the added harm to my health.
My Small Surrenders 