Today is one of those days. I can’t feel peppy for the life of me. My heart feels all tied up.
I tried to write a blog about being extraordinary, but I fell asleep while reading it. I should have sent it to a sleep disorder clinic.
Maybe this is because my husband started his chemo maintenance program this morning – just four treatments – but it somehow pulled me backwards into more stressful times. You know, when you’re sure you’re handling everything beautifully until your heartburn wakes you up at 3:00 a.m.
I’m agitated today. Nervous, like Tom Cruise being interviewed. Give me a couch, and I just might jump on it.
I tried walking outside and was joined by a couple of crows that talked to me non-stop along the way. Normally, that makes me smile. But not today. They were probably doing their best comedy routine and I was scowling and sweating.
I feel like I should shape up . . .
Sometimes gray days make me feel guilty. I feel like I should be thanking God that Neil is still with me, and that we have a great home and way too much good food. I should thank the birds for accompanying me during my walk (except for the mockingbird who dove at my head repeatedly).
But, instead, I am acknowledging that some days I just need to be blah. Instead of searching for the light, I need to stare into the fog and see what I find.
Perhaps it is there that I will receive an epiphany (I would like to let God know that I do not want a burning bush, because I still have hot flashes).
Maybe we over-estimate epiphanies . . .
It seems that as a society we think everyday should be sunshine and smiles – that all of life must be a place where troubles melt like lemon drops.
I think there’s a reason that place is somewhere over the rainbow.
In real life, there are times when we have to stroll into our darkness and reflect how we got here, what it is that bothers us, and how to move forward when the way isn’t well lit.
Maybe that’s when faith is developed, as we learn to take one step at a time, because that’s all we can see.
So, I’m not going to do any motivational chants today. But I am paying homage to all of us who have gray days.
Here’s a toast to crows, to silence, to agitation, and to fear. Here’s to not having answers and crying alone. Here’s to screaming into our pillows and pacing across the floor.
Here’s to the ugh-li-ness of life, when we are forced to dive deeply into a collective soul, face the darkness, and melt right into it. Because it’s there that we learn to let go. To sigh. And to release control to something bigger than us.
Here’s to courage.
Here’s to us.
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Donna, if I were there I’d give you a hug. Can’t help but think of that scripture that talks about God’s word being a light to my path….some days feel like that’s referring to one of those penlights with a rusty AAA battery….just enough to inch along. Gotta think there’s a reason for those days though. Maybe you’re getting ready for a breakthrough:)!
Melissa – I adore you. Your message was both funny and exactly what I needed. Thank you!
Thank you for sharing. I’m here in Ensenada, looking into the marine layer over the Pacific Ocean reading this article. Even with adventurous turns in our lives, sometimes that “Pig Pen” cloud blocks the sun and when it does, I’m putting on my sunglasses and opening another cerveza. This too shall pass.. Keep bringing the light to our lives!
Kathleen – thank you so much. Maybe we should change “this too shall pass” to “this too will lead us.” Or something like that. 🙂 Glad you’re looking over the Pacific Ocean. I need to see the Pacific again – feels like home.
Yes, yes, yes. Without the gray days, we don’t notice those with slight smidgens of rainbows or more. Truth: “In real life, there are times when we have to stroll into our darkness and reflect how we got here, what it is that bothers us, and how to move forward when the way isn’t well lit.”
Love this post… despite my post today being about rainbows (though it’s not all happy la-la land baloney).
Best wishes to you in your justified and deserved BLAH.
Lisa – Don’t apologize for your rainbow post . . . I know it’s both uplifting and real. I think “real” is the keyword. Thanks for your comments. I actually panicked a little last night after I posted this and wondered if it was just all a little too depressing. Thank you!!
(((hugs))) and thank you for the homage to those of us having gray days. I, too, am having one of those. And you’re spot on with needing to just recognize where it’s coming from, not fight it, just keep moving. Great post!
Charlene: Thank you so much – there’s a wonderful book called “Learning to Walk in the Dark” by Barbara Brown Taylor. She spent a year sitting in the dark, traveling in the dark, thinking in the dark. Her discoveries are remarkable. And, yes, sitting in the figurative dark is the toughest thing to do. Hugs sent right back to you.
As someone who’s dealt with Cancer in my immediate family, (my son had Leukemia but is fine now) I send you hugs and good thoughts. You can both get through this. xo
Linda – I’m so glad your son is fine now. Cancer certainly sends some deep lows and some oddly remarkable highs, as do all difficult times in life. Thanks so much for your comment.
Yes. And YES. As much as we all strive for a greater understanding of contentment, we also have to give ourselves the privilege of experiencing an honest low. Living Life well is such a balancing act, isn’t it? Wishing you and yours every success.
Cheryl – I love your phrasing. “Honest low” should be coined. Thank you for your good wishes and comment!
Hello Donna my old and dear friend. First let me say that prayers are with you and Neil. A beautiful couple more than doubles the brightness in the universe —– greater than the sum of its parts.
Yes, our society places way too much emphasis on cheery and sunny. Even those folks who exist in that realm for their public personas have to ultimately face the silence. It’s really OK. Things balance in life. There is no sunrise without darkness, and we should not feel guilty about dwelling there for a fair portion of our lives. Even in a dream state where you think you can leave your troubles aside, the strangeness is there.
Take a listen to Townes Van Zandt’s “The Hole” to get a sense of real darkness. It will make you feel good just to know you are not there with him. You are blessed and you know it. That is a blessing in itself.
Dave – it is wonderful to hear from you! I have not heard Townes van Zandt’s “The Hole,” but will definitely listen to it. I would also recommend Thomas Moore’s Dark Nights of the Soul – here is a link. http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Nights-Soul-Finding-Through/dp/1592401333 My dad spoke a lot on the power of dark times, and the incredible journey we can make because of them.