Four
years ago I took my kindergartner to England to meet my college
roommate and her family. The trip had been put on hold during the
latest season of my then-husband's unemployment. While he wasn't
working, I was banking the money we usually paid for our daughter's
childcare tuition. It was a frustrating, worrisome time, but having
the goal to travel gave me focus and a healthy distraction.
When we
landed in London and were embraced by my friends, I felt the weight
of all I had left behind. Unemployment, work stress, and family angst
are heavy. You don't notice the weight as much when you carry it all the time. I noticed as I pushed through jet lag that I would think
of these stressors and begin to pick them up like the luggage I had
packed. And yet, someplace deep in my mind came a wise voice, “Those things cannot reach you here. They are an ocean
away. Keep them there. Do not bring them into this space.” I exhaled and mentally set them down. Within a few days, I did not
pick them up at all. I remembered the ocean separating me from
my real life. I would smile and continue enjoying my vacation, my
daughter, and the hospitality of friends.
In the
two weeks we were away, I experienced true relaxation and
refreshment. I had never felt so calm, so free, so peaceful--ever in my life. The trip
was perfectly timed. I had needed the break from reality much more
than anticipated.
We flew home. There was no longer an ocean separating me from the
headaches of real life. When we picked up our luggage at baggage
claim, I also lifted the other baggage that came with my life.
If you
read this blog with any regularity, you know what happened next: our
family trudged along for a while longer. And then unemployment struck for the umpteenth time, and I knew I couldn't do it any longer.
So I initiated the dissolution of my marriage. The process finalized.
I adjusted to having less time with my precious girl. I also felt a
sense of freedom and peace. I felt weak and weepy, and then grew
strong, confident, mighty.
Which
brings us to this January. A friend I met through the Haven writing
retreat invited me to spend the New Year and my birthday with her and
her husband. I accepted her invitation and flew to South Carolina. In
the space of their southern hospitality, warm temperatures, and views
of the water, my body relaxed. Suddenly, I recognized this feeling.
It was the “ocean away” sensation, only this time while there was
an ocean involved, it wasn't separating me from my life. I breathed
and smiled and talked and ate and relaxed some more.
I left
their home five days later feeling a renewed sense of restoration and
wholeness.
“You've
got to find a way to achieve this feeling without having to go
anywhere,” my friend suggested.
Two
weeks later Mother Nature gave me the opportunity to practice that very thing. An ice storm was predicted.
Schools announced their closings the day before. It was my daughter's
weekend with her dad. I'd gone to the grocery in advance of the
city's rush for bread and milk. I was set.
I left
work early on Friday to avoid traffic and the impending ice. I
mentally prepared to be iced in, and even when the storm didn't reach
the predicted intensity, I stayed in. I walked to the mailbox three
days ago--the last time I walked outside my front door. I
haven't worn make up for three days. I mastered a balance of
productivity and leisure. I finished three books. I sewed Girl Scout
patches on my daughter's vest until my fingers hurt, and then I
stopped and moved on to the next activity. I spent one entire morning
on the phone with one of my best friends, and FaceTimed another
member of my tribe twice in two days. I watched and rewatched the
new season of Sherlock. I youtubed episodes of the Graham
Norton Show. Running the dishwasher, putting away some Christmas
decorations, and doing a few loads of laundry were crossed off the
list.
As I sit
typing, robe on, hair air drying from this morning's shower, I am
ready to step back into all that real life entails for me: long
commutes to and from work, more letters to write at work than I care
to count, the health concerns of family and friends. I have had the “ocean
away” experience in my own home, and it is glorious. I know how it
feels and how to achieve it: Grant permission to not do anything. Go
to sleep early (if you're an early bird, or late if you're a night
owl), wake early with a open schedule before you. Congratulate
yourself when you accomplish something on the mental to-do list.
Congratulate yourself when you sit still doing and thinking nothing
as well.
In these
days of seclusion, I cleared off my desk, and bed, and the other
surfaces that had grown cluttered with piles of paper and to-dos. The
physical clearing had a mental benefit too. I saw my way back to writing every
day. I opened a new document and typed: PAGE-A-DAY 2017. This post is
day two.
This
woman with prairie in her blood found the ocean she's been looking
for. Turns out she didn't have to go away to find it.
\o/ \o/ \o/ that's me shouting hallelujah!!! YOU GOT IT! You allowed hibernation. My acupuncturist would be so proud - just like I am. And, by the way..."You Are A Real Writer." xoxo love you Julie
ReplyDeleteOMT, I absolutely LOVE the photo of YOU in this post. Best.Ever.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a great post! And THIS: "This woman with prairie in her blood found the ocean she's been looking for. Turns out she didn't have to go away to find it." Prairie is in my blood too! :)
ReplyDeleteSometimes time away helps you to find the renewed sense of self. I got a break this past weekend and even though it was less than 24 hours it was much needed. Sometimes we need a break from life before we can realize how much we need a break.
ReplyDelete