Three Years of Fellowship
This is a follow-up to my two year reflection post last year.
Driving a car off a cliff
A metaphor I've often used for my life is that of driving a car off a cliff. Growing up in chaos and dysfunction, I lived my adult life in chaos and dysfunction. I had been headed towards a certain path, the particular details of which impossible to predict, but the result the same: catastrophe.
I view my recovery and healing as turning the car wheel and applying the brakes. Given the momentum, these are not instant fixes; I often ask myself if I started braking early enough, or if I'm doomed to vault over the cliff. Perhaps given the past year, I can say that I stopped the car as it's teetering off the edge of the cliff, with little room to spare.
These are just stories I tell myself. As I aptly heard someone share this week, there's a difference between honesty and truth. Honesty is what I believe to be true, as opposed to the objective truth. I am quite skilled at deceiving myself.
What's been going on
I am coming out of one of the most challenging years of my life. And I'm no stranger to challenging years. I'm not one for omens or precognition, but events were seemingly choreographed: I distinctly recall when multiple people shared about their physical debilitation, shortly before my own. It was a summer flu which struck me down: I had been red-lining my stress, and paid the price. It's been nigh on nine months of burnout and recovery.
Work went from stable to ongoing crisis as I was forced into withdrawal from workaholism (not much of a surprise there, it runs in the family). In re-evaluating my relationship to my job, and setting healthier boundaries for myself, I discovered my boss' covert narcissism. Discover sounds like a detached scientific process; this was trial by fire, incurring my boss' narcissist wrath.
It's incredible how long I can survive in chaos. There's a part of me that, like the protagonists of my beloved Culture series, believes I'm invincible. What a painful but healing revelation that I am not. It took my health deteriorating, and a coup de grâce from my boss, for that warrior part of me to step aside, which enabled me to give myself the gift of letting go.
In the past few months, I've stepped back from work to focus on my health. It's been a miserable period, contrary to the "with time off, enjoy yourself!" mentality. The cognitive incapacitation from burnout has been painful in many ways: one, as an intellectual, losing my core strength; two, the uncertainty, not knowing when or if I'll recover. I am feeling better, week after week, faster than I fear, slower than I hope.
What's new
Somehow in the midst of all that, I managed to take some significant positive steps. I started volunteering, bringing a message of hope and healing to drug and alcohol rehab centers in my area. This experience has been incredible for me, coming from a family of alcoholics and addicts. Growing up, when passing the local rehab, my father would say to me, "I went there, your mother went there, and one day you'll go there." To fulfill this prophecy upside down feels like taking control of my own story.
One of my goals for the last year, physical fitness, I dove into with yoga, making a consistent habit of it. After nine months of practice, my body, and my relationship to my body, feels great: decreased tension, decreased aches and pains. It's said that emotions are stored in the body, with yoga as a great means to move the emotions: this has been my experience.
Another goal, travel; I visited England, Scotland, Ireland and Greece. Each trip I take changes me, or unlocks accumulated changes within me; either way, coming back I feel refreshed, invigorated, excited for life. In Greece, I solo traveled abroad for the first time, walking along the ancient marble of the Acropolis, where my ancient heroes once walked. Standing amidst history, I realized (for the nth time) the obviousness of the truth: what I'm looking for so desperately is within, not without. Spiritual insight aside, I can't wait to travel again soon.
What's next
One of the Buddhist insights I relate to strongest is that peace is available within myself, anytime. It reminds me of the recovery saying, that serenity is not freedom from the storm, but safe harbor within the storm. As the world continues to dive deeper into chaos, I am grateful for my serenity. It is my foundation stone as I once again dust myself off and venture back into the fray.