The scene a few weeks ago.
I’m munching on Pirates Booty recovering from the I-think-I-want-to-die stomach flu – the kind where you can’t peel yourself off the floor. The kind where nothing your husband does for you is right or good enough. Our household was miserable. And then poof – just like that – it was gone. And now I can sit up straight and my husband has his sense of humor again. He wanders by and asks, “How is my little moody booty?” with an emphasis on booty. Then he says I’ve lost weight. Ah, the bright side.
And, there always is.
In the past month we’ve been swallowed up by a heart breaking family drama - a complicated history, an aging parent, declining health, financial instability, and dementia. I swung between patience and irritation, helpfulness and hopelessness. My attitude ranged accordingly – either can-do or WTF. Eventually, I did an emotional nose dive to the dark side. Suddenly, all I could see was suffering, and all I could see was me. I thought, I can’t do this, I can’t take this, I don’t want this. I became a big moody monster.
Then I got stomach flu.
No big surprise. I’m pretty convinced the cells in our body are in tune with the frequency of our thoughts. If I go emotionally haywire, my body goes physically haywire. If I tune my frequency to anxiety, that is what I get. If I tune my frequency toward acceptance, that is what I get. Buddhists call this karma – what you think, you become. My theologian Dad reminds me that – whatever you sow, you shall reap. This just touches the surface, but you get the idea.
So I've re-tuned. I'm committing to showing up as peaceful and connected, instead of an edgy, control freak attached like some craggy barnacle to an outcome.
What else did I get, besides a smaller booty? The family situation is not a simple one, but in it I see an opportunity to see a different way of life and to accept it. I take the challenge to deal with my own discomfort, the chance to contribute in way that is meaningful to someone else. And, I see an opportunity to just relax and be a friend.
The bright side was there. I’ve just had to get over myself to see it. And now, I’ll keep it in sight - always.