My cup (eyes) overfloweth
abundance is everywhere and I love/hate it in unequal measure
I overslept and rushed to my long-awaited doctor’s appointment and got lost in the building1 so I was too late to be seen and the receptionist was a jerk and now I have to wait three months to get in to this specialist after waiting 4 months already and now I’m sitting here at this bougie coffee shop as sadgirlmusic plays softly over the cafe speakers and I am charging my phone and I spent too much $ on my drink but $ is fake and I’ll have more again soon and nothing matters and everything matters and I am having a rough time after what feels like a string of rough times !!! Classic Sarena Meltdown in the Making.
“You know you’re 30 minutes late to a new patient appointment right? That’s a major inconvenience and there are no new patient appointments until October.”
Why’d she have to be so harsh? Why’d I have to be so soft? We rescheduled for the fall and as soon as I left the office I started crying. Scared a nurse when I asked where the elevators were because I was also quietly crying2
I know softness is not bad. I know softness is an accomplishment for me… to live this hard life and to remain soft is a gift and a choice and feels like a full-time job. Well maybe not a job but a duty. Being soft is not work like a job is work but it is work like maintaining any practice is work, is a devotion.
I’m trying to call more things a practice, like meditation is a practice. Taking care of myself in big ways and small ways is a practice. Refilling and taking my meds; a practice. Loving myself and my beloveds; a practice. Drinking water; a practice. Care; a practice.
Care is an attempt, like the essay, like the poem, to carry on. And fuck that “Keep Calm and Carry On” sentiment. Calmness is not always wanted or even possible. Instead, let’s:
RAGE and Carry On
Fuck Up and Carry On
Cry A Lot and Carry On
Take A Break and Carry On When You’re Ready
Care and Carry On and On and On
This is getting unwieldy but also I don’t mind. This is what my brain feels like right now so here you go. Eat it up or unfollow me, whatever you’d like.
Reframing these everyday tasks from obligations to practices often helps me take the pressure off. I do not have to do them perfectly or not at all. I just have to give it a try every day. This allows me the grace to make missteps and to recover at my own speed.
And I’ve also been thinking about balance. Maybe balance is not my goal in life. Maybe acceptance of my mood and energy shifts is the goal. Maybe abundance is everywhere. Abundance of tears, certainly, but also of comorbid symptoms, and also of words (I am blessed to have access to words again after a long period of no writing) and also of color and possibility and (sometimes) time, too.
May we all find abundance through the good shit and the tough shit. This is all I have for now.
Xoxo,
Sarena
why are there two elevators to get to each wing of the fourth floor and why can’t you walk between wings? I have beef with whoever designed this building!
people need to not be off-put by someone actively crying because I bet they can’t help it and they just want to find a corner or bathroom to cry into all alone or to go home or whatever else. You making a weird face doesn’t help anything. Bear with me, I am obviously in a mood.