In plain sight

Have you ever searched for something, like your keys, for a significant amount of time only to find them right in front of you? It is as though they blended into the foreground and background of their surroundings so that their shape, depth, and color was completely indistinguishable. Once you found them, it is quite likely you felt a bit crazy because who would not have seen those keys lying right there within reach?

I had been searching for something for weeks, maybe months. The search was so lengthy and so difficult because, unlike a set of keys, I had no idea for what I was looking. I vacillated between searching for this thing with the belief I would know it when I saw it and struggling with the notion that I must have the exact description in hand before I could even look.

Thanks to a serendipitous series of events, my search is over. No, I did not find it, but my search is over just the same. A friend who saw me struggling, looking for something as of yet unknown, led me to the most astounding revelation. The thing I was longing for, struggling to find, was not outside myself at all. I was looking for me. I was looking for things to make me the person I wanted to become when, as he so gently and persistently pointed out to me, I am that which I have been struggling to find.

On the other side

The clouds have parted and my mood has lifted. Through a serendipitous series of events culminating in a most enlightening conversation Saturday night, my mid-life crisis has abated. My searching is over, my helplessness gone. I feel…new. I am no longer seeking for something outside myself or worrying about what might lie around the corner. It is as though I have been dropped into a new environment where I suddenly know the rules and can see farther than ever before.

This probably does not make sense and I admit to feeling completely inadequate in describing what I am feeling. I spent hours last night trying to put into words what the experience was like but it was not possible. Perhaps, by design, this type of event, this epiphany of sorts, is not meant to be expressed to others, rather everyone must experience it for themselves. Though I had wanted to share it here so that someone else might not struggle as long as I did, my only hope now is that when you are in the same situation that you have someone as gentle and considerate and persistent as I had to lead you through.

Thank you, my dear friend, for being there for me. You listened when I needed to talk, led when I needed to follow, and pushed when I needed pushed. I will be forever grateful.

Trying to move

“It is the most amazing feeling. There truly is nothing like it. You’ll never see things the same way again.”

That’s what my friend said as he tried to convince me that jumping out of an airplane is the next logical step in my life’s progression. The sensation of floating, seeing the earth from a bird’s vantage point, feeling the earth’s pull like never before…they sound like great things. I hope one day to have the courage to do it. But today, when I picture it in my mind’s eye, I am standing at the door of the airplane, not even able to look at the ground hurtling by underneath. How could I enjoy the ride if I can’t even look at the destination?
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One of the office buildings I work in now has several atriums that expand up through the first and second floors. On the second floor, there are multiple balcony type railings surrounding these atriums for people to see below. It reminds me very much of a shopping mall, except there are no obnoxious teens hanging out and there is no weird guy in the center court trying to rub lotion on you.

Yesterday I stood at one of those railings and looked at the floor below. I was dreaming of what it might feel like to just throw myself over and what those few seconds before impact might feel like. I had to walk away before my curiosity got the better of me.
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Mentally, I feel like I’m clutching the side of a mountain. I’m stuck, afraid to move. Too tired to climb higher and yet, too scared to just let go and fall off. There are days when I wake up in the morning, tense and sore and it feels like I’ve been clutching that mountain even in my dreams. I really want to get past this point. I want either the energy to climb higher or the courage to fall.
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I’ve taken a few hot air balloon rides in my time. That is one of the perks of being friends with, and working for, a couple who own and pilot one. The first time I went up, I was scared. I didn’t think I would actually have it in me to climb into that basket and ascend while having absolutely no control. But I did it. It was the most amazing sensation, not of climbing, but more like the earth just falling away. It was incredible.

I do, however, recall one particularly hellish landing. Something went wrong with the burner, the wind changed direction, and the balloon started picking up speed as it fell to the ground. We were bounced and rolled and banged up pretty good before it finally stopped. I remember lying in the basket which was on its side at the end and thinking, “That was amazing.”
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I really want to get off this part of the mountain. Wish me strength.

I am in a better place

Intuition is a powerful, powerful thing.

In the past 6 months, I’ve come to the firm, unshakable belief that in fact, we have all the answers. Each of us do. That within us, if we just stop and listen, there is enough guidance to let us know whether the path we’re about to take is the right one for ourselves. That if we all just take a moment to quiet our minds and listen to our hearts, we’ll know exactly what to do.

That the secret to renewal, to rebirth, to metamorphosing into exactly what we’re meant to be is to just be still and listen. It’s not always easy, but it is possible. It just takes conscious, determined practice. I’m not perfect at it, but I am getting better. And trust me, if I can do it, so can you.

The passage above was written by Karen as part of her guest post on Andrea’s blog. It was published the day after I wrote the post, Where I am now. Coincidence? Maybe. But it certainly sounded like she was speaking directly to me. Then this tweet made an appearance four days later:

Making my single item to-do list for first-thing in the morning, a great tip I learned from twitter! What will I accomplish FIRST? 9:53 PM May 22nd from web
whymommy / Susan

For some reason that simple two-line tweet, that a couple of weeks ago I may have overlooked, stood out like a beacon on the page. A single item to-do list. What will I accomplish first?

It had me rethinking my entire strategy. I was trying to come up with a plan for the rest of my life when all I really needed to do was identify the next step I needed to take. Suddenly, everything seemed far less daunting. I still do not know what my purpose is, and maybe I never will, but I can determine what may be the obstacles in finding it. Eliminating those obstacles will be my to-do list.

For now.

I always seem to find answers when I write down the questions…even when I’m not entirely sure what the questions are. The posts I wrote about the mid-life crisis (here and here) were my first step in beginning to search for answers. I knew that if I threw some of what I have been churning through out into the universe, the fog would start to lift. And once again, the universe redeemed itself.

Where I am now

About eight months ago, I found a spot on my skin that was asymmetrical and ruddy and growing. It was actually something that I had been watching for over a year (I know – save the lecture) but it hadn’t really bothered me until then. Now, it was actually causing me pain. Like, ‘wake me up from a sound sleep,’ gnawing pain. Frightening pain, that caused me, the most unflappable, ‘don’t worry until you have a reason to worry’ person to worry.

I called my doctor for an appointment and of course, the first available opening was four months away. Since I already had my annual appointment scheduled for late January, I decided to wait until then. After all, waiting three more months probably wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

And all I have to say to that is: HA!

Those three months were pretty much the most stressful I’ve lived thus far. During that time, I rode both ends of the teeter totter that was my brain. Up: No, you don’t have cancer. It’s nothing serious. Don’t get so worked up about it. Down: Yes, you have cancer, you idiot. What did you think…that years of lying in the sun wouldn’t come with a cost?

And the few days when I was able to put it all out of my mind, I got to worry about my job. It was during this same time that we learned that the company was going to take drastic measures to keep us afloat during this economic downturn and we all got to worry about whether or not we would have a job in 2009. We were offered incentives to leave the company, tens of thousands were laid off and suddenly, having cancer not only meant I had cancer and all that comes with that, but also that I may not have a job (aka insurance) to help pay for it. It’s bad enough to have a life threatening disease without also having to worry about how to fund it.

That was when I resigned myself to the fact that I had cancer, even without having seen the doctor or getting an official diagnosis. I had to. I couldn’t live any longer in that suspended state of not knowing. I was to the point where I could almost literally see the question marks floating around me. I couldn’t take one more scenario in which the outcome was out of my control. I had to have cancer to give me some solid footing on which to start making decisions.

So I had cancer.

When I examined my life and thought about it from that ‘I could die soon’ vantage point, I was ready to go. I couldn’t find one thing for which I was willing to fight to live. Please don’t take this the wrong way, or think I’m suicidal or crazy, but I was fine with dying because, as I discovered, I had nothing to live for. I work too hard and far too many hours at a career that doesn’t fulfill me; my family consists of people who don’t understand me (or want to); I don’t live where I thought I would, spend my life with who I thought I would or do the things I always thought I would. What would I be living for…a few more decades of this? What would be the point?

And that realization was more frightening than the cancer.

So, when I say I’m in a mid-life crisis, it really stems from the last eight months of stress and worry and that moment. As it turned out, I did not have cancer (and for that I am extremely thankful) but the light bulb in my mind that came on when I realized my life is not worth fighting for is still on. And it won’t turn off.

And that is where I am now.