Hello again. It’s been a while.
I usually create a vlog for
Thanksgiving thoughts and well wishes, but this year I thought it
best to write. I lack certain clarity as I sit here, but I have
confidence that it will come to me – that it will come through
me.
At the end of my anniversary video I
said that year two would be full of adventure, and while that still
has the possibility to be true, many of my early adventures were
postponed. I said I wouldn’t talk about this anymore, but the truth
is that I have to. In September, parts of Colorado were devastated by
what is known as a hundred year flood. I was not directly affected,
though there were moments of uncertainty, but I had colleagues and
students who were displaced. I talked to people in my professional
community who watched houses literally wash away with a raging
current. At the time, I concentrated my thoughts on those who I knew,
while also trying to deny because denial is my best defense – it’s
my greatest coping mechanism despite its flaws. I pretended that I
was fine, that I was unaffected because physically, I was unaffected.
But I was not fine; I was afraid. Not for myself, but for life. I was
sad. I was aching.
Through it all, I had a handful of
people reach out who remained consistent in their concerns and
efforts, and I am thankful for them. I was also very resentful and
hurt by those who didn’t ask. Over time, I’ve realized that my
resentment was not for myself, but for the fact that those I
considered friends - those close to me, did not feel the need to ask
how life – any life – was impacted by events that happened
so quickly. I expected to be asked what it was like, or how close was
it to me, or what information do I know, but none of that came, and I
grew angry. How could I be friends with people so callous? How
could I feel like one of them when they didn’t feel anything at
all? In time the anger grew to sadness. The flooding stopped.
Roads reopened, and everything just stood still. Life continued at a
slower pace, stress fractures grew slowly, people grieved – our
state was in mourning.
Last weekend I worked with my client.
Things haven’t been easy since the flood, our trails were washed
out or cluttered with debris, but I decided to drive to one of our
favorite spots just to check on the progress. As I turned the corner
I noticed that the gate was open and another car was pulling into the
trailhead parking lot. I was thrilled. As we began to hike I couldn’t
help but think about how that one reopening was symbolic of so much
more. On a clear and beautiful day the trail was full of hikers,
bikers, dogs, and us – overcome with joy to return to a state of
normalcy. Colorado was recovering and the mourning had ended. But it
wasn’t just the physical landscape that demonstrated an ability to
“come back,” I realized that it had been all around me, but I
needed to stop mourning in order to see it – to appreciate it.
There had been laughter in the air. People had done what they needed
in order to move on – I just remained stuck until that day – that
moment – when everything felt right again.
I thought about those friends who chose
not to reach out, but this time I thought, maybe they coped with
things their own way. Maybe ignorance is bliss. Maybe they
didn’t want to know specifics because it would make them feel
helpless and I believe that nobody likes to feel helpless when
someone they know needs help. I was quick to anger and slow to
forgive when it should be the other way around, but I have forgiven,
and I am stronger.
That event led to postponement of
several mini adventures because so much was affected. Trails were
washed away or no longer existent. Roads leading to said trails were
in need of major repair, and life was different – living was
different. However, nothing lasts forever and I’m quite happy to
see and feel the winds of change. Mini adventures are still set to
happen this year; I have plenty of time before the year two
anniversary date.
Since the anniversary, other things
have happened. I started working full-time at the Montessori school I
worked at last year. It has been a rewarding change for many reasons,
mostly; I really like feeling like I’m a part of something – like
I belong to a community. The other day I was asked by my colleague if
I thought I would come back next year and I told her I do. Her
response left me with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was happy
that she was so happy, but on the other, she also seemed very
surprised, and that left me feeling like I don’t demonstrate enough
the joy I feel in being there. For her to be so unsure made me sad
that I’m not as open and vulnerable as I should be. Maybe it isn’t
about should, but certainly I have cheated those in close
proximity by not revealing my true feelings. I suppose it would be no
different if I hated being there, but acted as though I liked it,
withholding feelings seems to be just what it is regardless of what
fuels it. Is it fair for me to hide behind a shield because I
don’t want to feel pain? No, it’s selfish of me. What
about the people I work with, the people I work for – my students?
I am quite grateful to be where I am, to feel a sense of belonging,
to feel important, and to feel loved. The rest falls on me. It’s up
to me now to demonstrate more openly that I reciprocate those
feelings.
With full-time employment at the
school, I have had to limit time with my client, so we now see each
other twice a month (more if needed, but not scheduled). October was
my one year anniversary working with him, and it still amazes me to
think of what we’ve done in only a year. He inspires me in a number
of ways and often reminds me not to take things so seriously, that
sometimes we just need to sit for a while. I realize that I’m
projecting when I come to these conclusions, but it doesn’t change
how much I believe in them and in the fact that I wouldn’t consider
those things if not for my client. I am sure that he has done more
for me than I have for him, yet I’m the one labeled, caregiver.
At a dinner hosted for all of his
caregivers, we sat in awe as we witnessed and talked about how far he
has come, and where he could go next. Again, I had a moment of
feeling as though I belonged, and feeling so grateful to be part of
such a warm, caring, and insightful group of people. My client is one
lucky kid, not because any one of us stands out, but because together
we have a common goal and we all just do what we can to work toward
it. We celebrate each other just as much as we celebrate him – the
stars are aligned. With the return of one of his long time
caregivers, much like the reopening of trails, everything feels right
again. Though this isn’t about right and wrong, this
is about recognizing that a certain dynamic can only exist when
particular pieces are in place, and when just one of those pieces is
unaligned, the dynamic shifts. In this instance, we are all working
toward a goal; we work toward it collaboratively without regard for
individual gain. We work selflessly. More so, I recognize that the
apex of such a dynamic, the unifying force, is my client’s mom. She
is the person who chooses his caregivers; she is the one who
recognizes when someone “fits,” she is the one, ultimately, who
holds us together. She does it because she is just as much a part of
that special group of people as she is an orchestrator. As much faith
I have in humanity, the truth is that I find this kind of
togetherness, this dynamic, to be quite rare, and I am immensely
grateful to be a part of that.
So far I have really only reflected on
the professional part of my life, so without further adieu…
I haven’t done much to expand my
circle of friends. My colleagues are my primary set of friends as of
now and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure where the line of
demarcation is with that. Nonetheless, my personal life has remained,
well, personal – as in – I’m the only one with access to it.
I’m not sure why I have remained so secluded, I haven’t had much
drive to get to know people. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of
telling me that I’m not ready yet, that I have yet to find
satisfaction with myself and until I do, I can’t have any new
friends. I also think that as I age, I realize with greater
understanding just how fleeting friendship is, and I think it makes
me afraid to feel hurt, so again I hide.
Recently I realized just how
detrimental this could be, and in that realization I felt quite
lonely – something I don’t actually feel very often. I had to
have surgery recently (we’ll return to this topic shortly), and
though I would have asked my sister first to be my temporary
caregiver because I’m most comfortable with her, the truth is that
there weren’t many other people I could ask even if I wanted to. If
I had just one friend who lived closer, I would have asked that
person first because convenience in proximity would have beat family
at a distance. It made me really sad to think that after a year of
living here, I had virtually no one to turn to in a time of need. Why
have I been so reclusive? Why am I making no effort to make a
friend? Surely my personal life is suffering because of something
I’m doing – something I can’t even understand. Even after
asking my sister and before renegotiating, I felt guilty that the
closest person to help me was 100 miles away. I felt loved that she
said she would do it, but as time grew closer, my guilt also grew,
and before her husband offered to take her place I had asked my aunt
to help. I was grateful to have all of them offer help, but still
felt like it isn’t quite right to be the new girl in town, when
I’ve been in town for over a year. What is happening to me? Why
can’t I move forward?
Maybe it isn’t about moving forward,
but instead, about recognizing that I can’t always be the only
person I need. I never felt lonely when I didn’t have extra help
because I never really needed it – I could always just do things on
my own. This time, however, I really needed another human being, and
feeling that need was unfamiliar to me – I didn’t like it. Still,
until now, I refused to acknowledge that I needed someone; that I
needed at all. Maybe my lack of friendships is indicative of my lack
of dating – I only just said that I was ready to date again, but
have yet to do anything about it. It’s almost like I’m seeing
everything under fluorescent lights instead of ambient lighting –
it’s all harsh and unflattering. The part that bothers me is that I
don’t know why, I don’t understand my own behavior, I don’t
know why I feel so let down before I have reason to. Maybe it is
the universe conspiring…maybe I still have a long way to go.
The one positive part of keeping to me
is that I am forced to focus on myself – to do things for myself.
As I said, I had surgery recently – step one in identifying the
underlying cause to my trouble with migraines. Don’t worry, though I did have surgery on my head, it wasn’t close to my brain. I had
oral surgery, in part because it needed to happen anyway, I honestly
don’t believe that our skulls are meant to house so many teeth.
Also, if having my molars removed leads to a decrease in migraines, I
won’t feel the need to investigate much further. If, on the other
hand, nothing changes … well, I choose not to think about that
unless I have to, and right now, I don’t have to. I have been quite blessed in my recovery, it has been incredibly smooth, and pain
free. It helps that I had one of the best maxillofacial surgeons
performing the surgery – makes it worth the money. My sutures have
already dissolved and it’s like nothing ever happened. I can’t
say anything about the migraines though because I’m on a drug used
to treat migraines so until that is gone and I have time to adjust,
nothing can really be determined. At any rate, the next thing for me
to focus on is realignment of my teeth, now that I have more room and
no threat of bully teeth to push things around again, I want them
straight. I’m not terribly vain, but I miss having a pretty smile.
This blog is growing to an unbloggable
size – I might have to turn it into parts. In an effort to wrap
things up, there is yet another source for which I am grateful, and I
want to acknowledge it. My family. This mostly means my parents and
my sister, but is not limited to them in any way. As always, my
parents remain constant, helping even when I tell them that I don’t
need it I should probably
stop saying that and just accept it as a way to get over this need to
not need. My mom came for a visit in August and it was almost perfect
until the end when I got snappy. We have a history of snapping at
each other which is why I was so amazed that this visit went so well.
The truth is that I lashed out because she was leaving. I lashed out
because I have separation anxiety. I lashed out because it’s easier
to deal with the separation when you don’t feel sad over it. We got
past it, of course, we always do, but I know that I need to work on
it. I need to actively work on my relationships with people, and
maybe I should start with my mom.
Another relationship that is constantly
in a state of evolution is the one with my chosen sister. I’ve said
before that we continually surprise ourselves and each other with the
things we learn about ourselves and each other. Our relationship
grows, as it should, and recently she confided in me in a way that
left me unsure of what role I should play. I don’t know if what I
said was enough or the least bit helpful, but I do know that, for me,
it was a huge symbol of who I am to her – for that, grateful is an
understatement. It isn’t just the relationship with her that
evolves, but that with everyone in her family. I’m also taking
great joy in watching the change between my parents and her;
together, we understand what family is and what it means to be part
of one. It’s in family that I can finally be vulnerable,
that I can try to hide, but will eventually be called out, that I can
trust, and mostly, that I can love.
I am grateful for many things this
holiday, but I am especially grateful for love. I will be happy to
grade children’s work and do some planning during my time off
because I will be doing it from the comfort of my couch; I will do it
while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas. Though I will be
home alone, I will know that surrounding me is a blanket of hope, of
blessing, and of love. I will spend my Thanksgiving with thoughts of
others, believing that everywhere someone is thinking of someone else
– and that is something to be thankful for – we are
the channels of love; our thoughts, our blessings, and our wishes for each other and another tomorrow. I look forward to another opportunity to be
grateful; another opportunity to be part of a grander design.
Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Chanukah.
Until next time,
Courtney Chivon
