The Other Side of Timshel

I am not doing well.  That happens with grief sometimes.  I am going along and I am ok.
Then, suddenly, I am very much not ok.

Right now, I am not ok.

I am struggling to sleep, to act normally, to stop bursting into tears, to make sense of Life, to keep reassuring myself that this is worth it.

I know that Rilke said, "Just keep going - no feeling is final".  But the contrary part of me thinks, why?    Just keep going toward what?  More pain?  More loss?  More failure?  I know I should feel that this is all worth it, but some days I feel like such a sham.

I can speak a good game about "thou mayest", but my broken heart is screaming  "F$%# timshel".  I am sad and mad and confused.  It takes so much energy just to get out of bed the past couple of days that I don't have anything left over.

Grief kills empathy with a chainsaw.

I.just.don't.care...



I want to try to care.  The care simply costs too much sometimes.  I can't pay the price today.

When I insisted a few weeks ago "I'm ok" to a good friend, she corrected me.
"You are not ok, but you will be."
The one thing I can do today is hold that idea.
I can hold it carefully in my hands, and try not to drop it.

S.S.S.S. (not to be confused with S.S.D.D.)

I am always a big, dorky nerd during our Back to School week full of meetings. I get caught up in the Fall semester energy at the college. We have plenty of professional development opportunities, for which I am very grateful. I love working at an institution that gives me so many options for growing as a teacher.

Having said that, I do have this contrary streak. Commonly, there are "Best Practices" presentations where honored teachers are featured. I understand the spirit of the session - sharing successes. I get it, and I applaud it. However, the global declaration of "best" makes me want to argue. Who decided these practices were best? For whom were they best? When were they best? Why?

I pretty much complain about this title every time I hear it. I suggested an alternate title, but my friends told me that Some Things that Work for Some People Some of the Time and Some Reasons Why (S.S.S.S) would not be a big "faculty draw."

But the more I think about it, the more I like that title. It is one of my theories of Life. Every piece of advice really comes down to S.S.S.S. In my opinion, every baby book should come with a Some Things that Work for Some Babies Some of the Time and Some Reasons Why sticker. Every relationship advice book would sport the S.S.S.S. sticker as would EVERY weight loss program. Teaching, parenting, marriage and fitness require creativity and individual tailoring to be successful.

I comes down to my belief that no one else has my answers. I have to figure it out for myself. I love getting (and giving) advice. I benefit so much from sharing ideas. In the end, though it is me...

me, standing in front of the classroom
me, mothering my children
me, communicating with my husband
me, rolling out my yoga mat
me, drooling looking at a tray of cookies

Someone else's reasons...methods...words never feel quite right. I have to find my own.

And, eventually, I do find my own reasons to be healthy, my own authentic teaching methods, my own words to speak my joy and sorrow.

And, of course, they are always S.S.S.S.

Timshel

I am a bit of a reader. I have not read much since John died. Other people's drama just does not seem very interesting to me right now.

However, I have taken comfort lately from flipping through one of my favorite books ,East of Eden by John Steinbeck. It is an amazing book.

In one scene, two characters discuss the nature of God's edict for humans. Some Bible versions command "Thou shalt triumph over sin" and some rejoice in the predestination that "Thou surely will triumph over sin". Sam and Lee are not sure which is correct. In the story, Lee takes this question back to his elderly spiritual advisors in China, who study the question over many years. They believe they find the answer in the ancient Hebrew translation.

The original phrase is timshel. The best translation is "Thou mayest". Timshel becomes one of the main themes throughout the book.

Timshel has become one of my mantras in the past few weeks.

I think I now truly understand this idea of acceptance that I have been grasping for these last two years. Timshel...Thou mayest.

Thou mayest open your heart and heal. No one is forcing me. My friends and family do not ever judge me for talking (extensively) about my pain and fear and insecurities. But I MAY let them go. Not because I have to; not because something terrible will happen if it don't. But, because.I.may.

It is my choice to hold on or let go.

It does not mean I will not hurt when I see what every other five-year-old can do and Anthony can't. It doesn't mean it won't sting when I see another flippant comment online about how it is ridiculous to medicate a child for anxiety. I will still cry when I start to dial John's number and realize again that he is gone.

But thou mayest...

I may live with my heart open. I may parent without second guessing myself. I may love knowing I could get hurt.
I may heal. I may laugh. I may hope.

Anthony has started kindergarten this past week. Add that to a visit to Kentucky for John's memorial, and we have had some anxious nights. It will get better. Or it won't and we will go back to the pediatrician for help.

John's memorial service this past Saturday was a joyful celebration of his Life, but leaving my family behind was very painful. Life gets easier, then gets harder. That is Life.

It is all worth it. I am not voluntarily leaving this dance floor yet...not when I feel like I am finally learning some fun steps. I still gots some moves.

Timshel.