My Thread

We are not owed happiness, and simultaneously we do not deserve unhappiness.

Surgery is tomorrow. I am nervous and also calm. It’s been a great excuse for pushing away requests, insistences, other’s wants and needs. Saying no or I can’t right now still does not feel comfortable. It’s a relief to have something so concrete behind my answer. I realize, however, that I need nothing behind my words other than my own desire.

Yesterday I stood up for my medical leave. I declined a lunch I’d originally been willing to attend during my leave. I was willing out of obligation. To my job, to my male boss. I see the patriarchal conditioning in my view of and response to the world. I see it, and yet it is so fucking hard to change.

It was suddenly so apparent what I would say to a friend or colleague: take the time; do not attend the lunch. Do not work. Rest. Be with yourself. Focus on your recovery. And it occurred to me that I should give myself this same advice. That I also deserve what I want for others. 

So many times in my life I have missed the wedding, the shower, the funeral, the family vacation for my job. I cannot even remember what I was doing at the time I said no, sorry, I can’t get away. All those projects that felt crucial, too vital for me to leave for a few days, maybe a week…I cannot remember a single one of them, not specifically. But I remember what I missed. The wedding in Rhode Island. The reunion in Virgin Gorda. The gala in NYC.

I belonged in those places of celebration, and yet I chose work instead. Not to say I do not value my work. Clearly, I value it very much. But in the grand scheme of a life, what difference would a few days have made?

This is the conversation I had with myself. I have felt such guilt over taking two weeks to heal, but despite what anyone might think of those two weeks - too much or not enough - that time is mine. It is meant for healing. Despite what anyone thinks about my surgery - no big deal or traumatizing - it’s my uterus I am losing. It’s my tubes and cervix, my reproductive system, living tissue that I have carried inside my body for 42 years. It is diseased and needs to be put to rest so that the remainder of my body can thrive throughout what is left of my life. None of us knows where or when our end lies.

Two weeks is nothing in the face of 42 years. It is nothing in the face of all of life that is yet to unfold.

When I was a very small child and still said nightly prayers, my mother often advised, be careful what you pray for. If you ask for patience, you may be given lifelong trials to help you build patience. If you ask for strength, you may be given hardships that break down, then steel your resilience. Even during my most agnostic phases I have remembered this.

I will not say we are never given more than we can handle. I don’t think that’s true. But I will say that I do believe we are given, if we are willing to search and utilize, the tools needed to survive. There is no promise we will pass unscathed. In fact I think the opposite. We are often deeply bruised, permanently scarred.

For years I have asked for help and guidance in caring for myself, in learning to be at peace in body and soul. I wish for a calm, healthy nervous system. A strong, tranquil mind. I have been to therapy, tried a slew of diets, practiced specific exercise routines, used meditation apps, and invested in pricey life coaching. Everything has helped and nothing has cured. And so I continue to put out into the universe: What am I missing? What is it that I need to know right now? How can I learn to rest, to take better care of myself? To live a happy and healthy life?

Part of my answer came in the form of diagnosis - two chronic diseases demanding attention.  

If pain is the body’s primary communication with the brain, what recourse does it have when ignored but to turn up the volume? The brain, for all its innate wisdom and analytic ability, is often a terrible listener. It has an ego’s agenda. The body cares nothing for the ego. The body only wants to feel safe, healthy, and at peace.

I recently listened to a podcast that connected dharma, one’s purpose in life, to health. At its essence, the idea is: what do you want enough to change for? What gets you out of bed each morning? Connect to that and make choices accordingly. Of course we must attend to our responsibilities. Most of us need to work in order to pay bills and tend to responsibilities - it is the way of this world - but we were not put here to work a job for money.

So why am I here?

To create art, tell stories, and birth characters. To practice yoga, write words, and make beautiful things. To connect with nature and adore animals. To love my people and be loved by them. I am here to express. I am here to bring people together. I am here to be happy, to the best of my abilities, and to be connected to something greater.

Here are some of the things I am NOT here to do. Answer emails. Work overtime. Do more than my share. Bear overwhelming responsibility. Be pushed around. Have thin to nonexistent boundaries. Be abused, belittled, or bullied. I am not here to be engulfed by housework, yardwork, deskwork, or any other kind of work other than my dharma. I am not here to feel forever exhausted, drained, shattered or depressed. I was not put here to sob against the floorboards in my closet or rake blades across my skin or rip clumps of hair. I am not here to wage war on my body, forever unsatisfied, even disgusted.

We are not owed happiness, and simultaneously we do not deserve unhappiness.

I think the human experience is about wading through this muck. About figuring out why you are here and working to stay connected to that higher purpose. Discovering, tending to, and living with these developments in my health are part of my journey - powerful reminders of why I am here and why I am not. 

More than once I’ve been called a Pollyanna. It was not a compliment. But I choose to see finding reason amid the chaos as a way to stay afloat. Human beings have always gravitated toward magical thinking, building narrative, identifying reason, discerning patterns. Think of how a child asks Why over and over again. The mind is always looking for a thread of logic, even when that thread appears completely illogical.

This is my thread. It need not be yours.