Indelible Thanks

“Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

The last time I posted on Thanksgiving Day, I was sick, and so I am today, five years later. I did make it out to join my 2nd family and more friends—14 of us around the table—for dinner. There are many beautiful people in my life; many stories I could share. I love the story of how I became closer to my 2nd family—when we mutually adopted each other, and how much that has blessed my life. Maybe I’ll share that someday.

Today I want to tell a different kind of story. Not every person that enters our life stays with us on the journey. Not every memory is a perfect one. Yet I subscribe to the belief that no one is in our life by accident. We are here to teach each other, whether through friendship and love, or situations seemingly not so positive. And when we experience pain, is it for nothing? I won’t pretend to understand all that goes on in the world, and I will not glibly explain away suffering. But in our day-to-day interactions, I believe we encounter exactly who we need to help us grow. We choose our own reactions.

So besides being thankful for the folks who shower me with love, I am also thankful for the people in my life who have disappointed me. Actually, in most cases, I have to own that disappointment. It is usually the case that my internal expectations and hopes are not met rather than that the other person did not live up to a stated agreement. I continually strive to live in the present moment, and to not make assumptions about why other people do what they do, but it’s not always easy. It’s a practice.

About six months ago, I attended an event with a friend. There, I met a man. During introductions, he said something to me that I didn’t hear, but I could feel from the energy that he was paying me a compliment. I managed enough presence of mind to say “thank you.”  It wasn’t until a few days later that I found out from our mutual friend what he had said. Our interactions that evening were brief, yet positive, and he gave me an assurance that he would be in touch.

Over the next few days I couldn’t help but think about him. He seemed to share the values that are most important to me. He was tall and handsome, and he had complimented me. One part of me knew my budding crush could be completely one-sided, but I decided not to care. It felt too damn good, and I wanted to enjoy it. My brain was flooded with dopamine and serotonin, and people noticed that I was acting differently. Even a stranger told me, “I love your walk.”

After a few days, I reached out to him. Then, what happened was…nothing. No reply. As the days eked into a week, and then into weeks, I slowly accepted the fact that for whatever reason, he was not going to respond. As is normal for me, I tried to analyze the situation and figure out what I had done wrong. By turns and sometimes all at once, I was angry, sad, confused, and embarrassed.

Yet over that month, I kept coming back to my early reaction—that chemical high. I realized that those feel-good drugs had been of my own making, although he may have been the trigger. “Why don’t I feel that way more often?” I wondered. I decided that I wanted to feel that way—for myself. I wanted to have that energy, that bounce, that glorious glow, because I am excited about my life the way it is now, not just for what may be with someone else. I have come very far over the past years, yet I still felt stuck somehow. I had reached a hump in the road that I just couldn’t get over by myself. And all at once, I decided I was done with that, simply done. Whatever had to be done to live my life with more passion, I was going to do it. I was determined to find the answer.

While pondering this, I found a book on my shelf that I picked up at a used bookstore a while back, but hadn’t yet read: Fearless Living by Rhonda Britten. “Fearless”—that sounded exactly how I wanted to live. I contacted an acquaintance who offers life coaching based on this book. We met for coffee to talk about her life coaching work, and I committed to the path. A few weeks later we began our sessions.

It’s hard to describe the exact course of healing that took place (and is still occurring). It has been life-changing, freeing, and by turns exhilarating and painful. My coach is so helpful in helping me see things in a different light and keeping me focused on the positive. There are times I find myself resistant to the homework, and I realize I’m avoiding the issues it is bringing up. At least once just reading the homework made me cry, without knowing why. On those days my coach was there to walk me gently through, question by question, while acknowledging my willingness to continue the work.

Over time, my perspective began to shift. I found that I began to care less about what other people think of me. It was as if a veil was lifted from my sight and a weight taken off my shoulders. I self-described this as “I’m becoming a bitch,” meaning that in the best possible sense. I was finally starting to be able to say what I thought, what I needed, and do what I wanted, without undue worry for others’ reactions. It was suddenly easier to just be in the world, because it sapped less of my energy. Rather, I was giving people less of my energy, since I was clearer on my boundaries and wasn’t worrying about always pleasing others. For an introverted empath, who avoids conflict at almost any cost, this was a colossal shift. My friends noticed too; they saw I was less reserved, and told me I was glowing. Some people assumed I was dating someone new.

With my first of two fabulous models at Art Attack.
photo credit: A. Bayne

This new-found power allowed me to say ‘yes’ to two events that I would have balked at before. Sometime in the summer, I signed up for Via Colori, which I’d wanted to participate in since it came to town four years ago. A few weeks before that event, I heard about Art Attack, where artists bring their easels downtown and paint. Five days away from the event, I thought, “I want to do that. I know how to do that.” I waited for that other voice to pipe up. I knew what it would say: “You don’t have enough time to get the logistics together…you haven’t done art in so long, it would be better if you worked your way back up to that…what if you have an off day and your art sucks?” I knew what that voice would say, but it never spoke up. So, I just went full force forward. I signed up for the event, I put an appeal on Facebook for live models and a few things I needed to borrow. And I did it. It was the most glorious day; start to finish I was in flow.

Via Colori, held a week later, was similar—I was there for fun and I made a plan and executed it. I sent a Facebook invitation for both events to everyone in the area that I am connected to. Many friends stopped by to support me, and many strangers also admired my work. “I didn’t know you were an artist,” was a common theme from my friends, since I haven’t advertised it much. One couple asked, “How much would the city charge to cut out a piece of pavement and take it home?” Grinning, I replied, “I’m sure an arrangement could be made.”

Finishing details on my self-portrait (from a photo by J. Kennedy) at Via Colori.
photo credit: K. Weaver

This journey has been work—each week I have reading, questions to answer, and a lot to think about. I seem to go through cycles of hiding out, needing to conserve my energy, followed by times when I’m flying high in the world with an energy I would not expect myself to be able to sustain. Right now I feel myself going back into hibernation mode—needing more time alone, more time to work on things at home. The focus now is on learning to love myself—defining what that means and what it looks like in practical terms. It’s difficult to admit how much work I have to do there. Why is it so much easier to love and be patient with others than it is with myself?

 

And the man I met those months ago? He remains an enigma. His choice of silence, over even a simple ‘no, thanks,’ may have felt unkind, yet I have no idea what his personal story is. And yes, the credit goes to me for the awareness I took from that short interaction, and the work I have done since, for myself. Yet he was, in my life, a bright flash of light. His presence, along with others, helped me to jump-start a path that only spirals upward: a life of love and care for myself; a life of fearless living.

So there it is. Life is messy. Through it we carry our hopes, our wounds, and our historicalities. We try to heal, we try to learn. We try to live with open hearts even while guarding them. We fumble, and sometimes regret.

We do our best. And that’s always enough.

We do not need to be perfect to positively affect the lives of others, or even our own. We just need to be ourselves, our best selves, moment by moment. Perfect in our imperfection. Divine in our humanness. Thank you, dear soldier of the Light, for leaving that indelible mark on my life through your innocent observation of my “beautiful green eyes.”