I’ve been having what therapists may characterize as ‘emotional breakthroughs’ since becoming ill. One of the most significant is about love. Not the impossibly romantic kind they depict in movies, but the kind where people embrace you warts and all and let you know that they care for and value you always. Because of my growing understanding of that kind of love I’m reconnecting with and growing relationships with people who I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t know them.
Go Where Love Grows
Some of them are people who, because of the complicated relationship with my mother, I always felt guilty having in my life. Not surprisingly, since I’ve been ill they are some of the people who have been most supportive, especially when it comes to the emotional support needed as I try to cope with the current conditions of my life. These people love me. They have always loved me. The love they have for me is not dictated by biology or obligation. They love me just because they do. And I love them in return not because there is anything tangible for me to gain; not because I feel that I must reciprocate, but simply because I do.
My recognition that this love exists is changing me. It’s opening me. It’s making me feel positive even as I endure the pain of my illness. This love makes me feel less alone as I live every day in my small space because I know that I am not living through all of this alone. Most importantly, as cliché as it sounds, I now know the true meaning of the phrase “go where love grows”, and I hope others can experience this growth.
Edison Lighthouse – Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes
Intentions are an interesting thing. We can have good intentions toward others and have the actions we take result in catastrophic outcomes. On the other hand, we may not apply conscious intentions to a situation and tremendously improve our own lives or the life of another. Personally, I tend to act with good intentions as I go about my life, but we all know the saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”. Why am I prattling on about intentions today? It’s because I had the intention to do something for myself – that by all accounts has positive benefits – but I never got around to it. More accurately, I couldn’t make myself do it.
A few weeks back, I got my hands on a copy of the book ‘One Zentangle a Day: A 6-week Course in Creative Drawing for Relaxation, Inspiration, and Fun’ – isn’t that a mouthful – so I could teach myself more about the Zentangle practice and expand the range of patterns I can draw. For some inexplicable reason I couldn’t get started, even though I woke every day with the intention that it would be the first day of my ‘formal’ practice. Then each day the hours would pass without me reading any of the pages or working through any of the exercises. I noticed that I was feeling anxiety and pressure about doing something that is supposed to be relaxing and meditative.
Today the anxiety and self-inflicted pressure fell away. I didn’t intend to start day one of the 6-week course. I didn’t open the book at all. Instead, I used another Zentangle resource that places no time constraint on ‘getting it done’. I turned to ‘Zentangle 1: Basics’, another instructional Zentangle book that teaches you the basics about the practice. That being said, what I’m trying to express has nothing to do with either of the books. I’ve read glowing reviews about the 6-week course, which is why I got it. What this is about is the block I somehow created with my intention.
Crescent Moon & Printemps
Hollibaugh & Static
Zentangle #1
I can’t figure out how I managed to turn something meant to be fun and good for me into a source of anxiety. I’m also wondering how many times in the past when I felt anxiety it was in response to my resistance about an intention I set for myself. Is it possible that I’ve been creating my own psychological fear and pain, and not actually responding to external things? Is it possible that my intuition has been waving red flags that I ignored and chose instead to push through my fear or discomfort because I felt committed to situations I conjured with my intentions?
I don’t know if any of this makes any sense. I don’t know how drawing lines and shapes on paper has brought me to this place. I don’t know why trying to do something within a fixed time parameter is causing me such discomfort when I have always depended on having structure in my life to cope with everything. More importantly, have I been living my life with the best intentions for those around me and lesser intentions for myself? Or, was this simply a case of deciding to work on Zentangles using the less structured resource while having empty time to fill because my internet connection was lost for most of the day?
The Verve – Bittersweet Symphony (Cruel Intentions Ending)
Yesterday I was angry. I was so angry I had to cry to release some of the emotional pain the anger made me feel. I was angry because I spoke with my sister for the first time in just shy of five years. Her reason for ending contact was trivial and petty. I learned that she decided to cut me off based on a false assumption. Within ten minutes of talking about our different perspectives of what happened five years ago, it was clear that we could have resolved the issue without losing so much time out of each other’s lives.
I called her yesterday morning because I feel like I need to get myself organized. Because I don’t know when I will have surgery or what might happen when I do, I feel the need to contact people who I haven’t communicated with for a long time. Not acquaintances, but people I believe hold a significant place in my life. I am contacting them to let them know – if they don’t already – that I am (still) ill and I am adding their names to a list of people I want contacted after my surgery with news about the outcome, especially if it’s poor. I want to call these people because I believe in preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. The worst of what I’m preparing for is that something could go wrong during or after surgery, and I don’t want a phone call from a stranger to be the first time they learn that I’ve been sick for so long or worse. I feel like it’s a thoughtful thing to do. I know it’s self-inflicted stress, but the fact that I keep thinking about how these people might feel tells me it’s something I need to do. For obvious reasons, my sister is on the list.
Nonetheless, let’s get back to my anger. My sister made me angry because she chose to stay angry with me for a petty reason for five years. In fact, she said she felt she had the right to be angry about what happened. She held on to her anger even after my many attempts to make peace. After almost a year of reaching out and having her respond with coldness, I gave up. I figured she would contact me when she was ready to talk. That never happened. Then to add insult to injury, she said she didn’t feel angry while we were speaking.
Her rationalization and justification about her behaviour made me boil. Then she said, “Well that happened.” As if there was no more reason to discuss the matter further. I felt my blood pressure rise at her cavalier attitude about five years we could never get back. I reached dangerous temperatures when she swiftly changed gears and started to ask me detailed questions about my condition as if we just spoke a few days ago and I was now calling for a heart-to-heart chat.
Sadly, the more upset I became the more I cried and the more my pain increased. I had to cut our conversation short. After I hung up the call, I needed to find something to calm myself. Surprisingly, I reached for my art/gratitude journal. I got to work on a page I started the night before. I lost myself in colouring the shapes traced on the white page. I worked on it for hours until it felt complete. While I worked on it, I was able to calm my anger and empty myself of all thoughts and feelings about everything except the page in front of me.
Filled Found Shape
I put myself into that page. I had no plan for where I would place the colours. I didn’t know I would draw patterns to fill the coloured spaces. But, when I finished, I was calm and my anger was in the distance.
My Small Surrenders 