Dec 07 2006
When You Don’t Know What To Do
What do you do when you don’t know what to do?
In my classes we muse over this line of thought quite a bit. There can be twists and turns in labor. Moments where you must decide if you need to let go of something and possibly do something different. On the journey of birth we come upon gates where we may have something taken away from us in order to get through the gate. For birthing parents this might mean the birth pool springs a leak so they birth on the bed or maybe the floor. It may mean accepting an epidural when they had worked and prepared so deeply for an unmedicated birth. Its heartbreaking. Its hard, but in that moment you know that it is the next best thing. So it is in life, I have learned.
Today I find myself not knowing what to do.
So, wise mentor that I claim to be… What do you do when you don’t know what to do? The words you have given to others say ~ Stop. Feel the earth beneath your feet. Do nothing extra. I am finding this very difficult right now. I know that something needs to change. I know how I wish it was, how I desperately don’t want to give up hope of it being. But at what point to you say “Okay.”? How do accept how things are? How can you be sure?
Don’t worry that I am just going to wax philosophical and leave you thirsting for the dirty lowdown. I will lay it all out for you. Nothing poetic about any of it really. Its my fucking body. This fucking illness that sucks my spirit dry. Fibromylagia. What the hell ever. The name means nothing to me. Letters on a page. What means something to me is having morning come and feeling worse than when I went to bed the night before. To spend the day in a stupor of exhaustion. Muscles twitching and burning. Knowing in your heart that no amount of positive thinking, powering through, or sucking it up is going to change a damn thing. Potions,pills,practices…nothing offering a way to live the life I want to live. And thats just it. I am not going to die from this. That is great. Really. With all my heart, though I may whine and cry endlessly, I am thankful that I am not aflicted with a life threatening illness. But just because I can live does not mean that I can live the life I want to. Accepting that is a bitch.
I love my work with birthing women and families. I love being a childbirth mentor and a doula. I would even dare to say that I am good at it. When I am able to be fully present and give my love to my work it is so good. I feel good in my heart. I even get a bit of lift in my body. Its this lift that keeps me going. But more and more it is a struggle to get going in the first place. My body does not consult my diary when deciding when it is going to give me a small taste of sweet relief. It does not matter one bit if I am on call, if I have a class or a meeting. It doesn’t matter that after all my work and perserverence that finally I am beginning to break out and build a reputation and people are seeking me out. It doesn’t matter that for the first time in my life I feel like I am good and worthy and strong. ha ha. Yes strong. I can even see that what I put up with every day takes my great doubt, great faith, and great determination. I see it. It has gotten me as far as I am. And in the process I have left very little for my family, for me, for the rest of my life.
Yesterday morning I dragged myself – unbathed, hair tossed in a pony tail, wearing dirty clothes to my youngest daughters nativity play at school. Even that took great determination. One hour out of the house and I came home into total colapse. Exhausted from watching my little girl sing her heart out, beaming to me and Axel in the audience. The rest of the day was a series of boughts of despair and tears, vain attempts at paliative care – warm baths, herbal tinctures, resting. My middle daughter had a performance at school that afternoon of a short play she has been working on for weeks. The time to go see her perform came and went with me lying on a soaking wet pillow (I was too tired to dry my hair after my bath) crying. I could not find whatever it was I needed within my to get up and go. The thought of getting into the car and driving sent me into a panic. I am so tired I get lost on my way from my room to the kitchen. The guilt of letting her down – again – eats away at me. I had a class to teach in the evening. I knew that if I pushed myself to go to her show that I would absolutely not be able to teach my class. The battle was my daughter…..my class. My body won. I had to get Axel to drive me to class. I put everything I had in me into class and came home to crumble again. Lying in bed for the night, my body not giving a darn how much money I spent on a good mattress. The touch of a feather hurts. Another night of vain attempt to get some sleep. I am on call for a birth and I live in fear that the phone will ring and I will not be able to be the aware and peaceful birth partner I have promised to be.
And so it goes most days. Anja said it so well, and it cut me deep when I tried to explain in a simple way to her friend why I couldn’t go to the park with them because I felt poorly. “Mommy is poorly alot of the time.” shit. just shit.
I am stuck at a gate. Do I give up this work? Not cut back, but let go. It isn’t the kind of thing I could do casually. On a practical and spiritual level. Its a lifestyle. I feel like I short change my family, my clients, and myself. At what point do I breathe in all that I have accomplished, be grateful that I could do what I have done. When do I know it is time to do the next best thing. I have alternatives open to me that are completely acceptable. I have other things in my life that I can better fit into my physical limits. Things that bring me equal satisfaction to my birth work.
But letting go of something that I have held so close and strongly,given so much to and have received so much from….
What do you do when you don’t know what to do?
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