Week 3, Day 2

How I Dropped the Ball on My Power Word — Steadfast

Now, can I ‘lean’ back into it?

At first, I couldn’t even remember having a power word, or watchword for 2021.

But if I did, I surely would have written about it somewhere on this platform. Sure enough, I did. For Middle-Pause, where I create a weekly prompt.

So fittingly, back in January, I asked our readers and writers: What one powerful word — or phrase — lights you up to who you are and what you’re up to in 2021?

Mine was steadfast.

The first few words I tried out, commitment and consistency sounded right on. But they didn’t have the magic I sought in a power word. They felt like shoulds handed down from on high.

I should be more committed to getting my novel edited. I should be farther along than chapter 11 by now. I should be more consistent. What’s wrong with me?

Well, nothing’s wrong with me.

But I am scattered and overcommitted. I have shiny object syndrome and FOMO — fear of missing out — big time. I love all the classes I’m taking, the publications I write for, the church I serve so selflessly, and my poetry community as well. All meaningful, enriching, and soul-feeding.

Except when it isn’t.

When it feels like my contributions outweigh the ways I’m fed. When there just aren’t enough hours in my day to do it all. When I push myself over the top, sacrificing self-care and restful sleep.

When I say yes when I really need to say no. When I’m the best one for the job, does it mean I should do it? Or should others step up and learn it? It’s not healthy for so much to be bottlenecked around me.

What happens if I get sick and can’t do those things?

Well, that may be starting to happen.

The way my body appears to be highly functional. When I get busy, I don’t have time to process feelings. So they get buried somewhere. Out of sight, out of mind.

But they aren’t benign hanging out wherever they hang out. They’re in my body affecting systems various — nervous, circulation, gastrointestinal, subconscious mind, etc.

They do leave signs for me like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs. Loss of appetite, sleeplessness, fatigue, irritability, sense of doom, difficulty focusing. Duh! Did I connect them dots?

Not until after not one, but two visits to the Emergency Room.

Heart palpitations, lightheadedness, shortness of breath, and funny sensations (not painful thankfully) in my chest all night without a single drop of sleep got me willing to call the advice line.

When the doctor on duty says, come to the ER. We should see you, you go, right? He or she knows stuff I don’t. Better to be safe than sorry, or worse!

So I’m laying there on the gurney, heart pounding, body shaking with shivers and chills, while the technician takes my vitals and does an EKG. And he tells me everything’s perfect. Say what?

It turns out that the differences between heart attacks and panic attacks are few and subtle.

But thank God, I’m not having what he called a ‘heart event!’

Instead, I’m being treated for anxiety.

Ahhh. Deep breath! Sigh of relief!

That alone has helped dissolve some of the shroud of impending doom weighing heavy on my shoulders, wrapping me in its airless coffinesque container.

Sometimes you don’t know what that was until it’s no longer there. I’m not out of the woods yet but I see those breadcrumbs and connecting their dots.

I’ll meet with a mental health specialist who will refer me to one of Kaiser’s classes on mindfulness meditation practices and/or how to deal with anxiety.

My doctor ordered two medications. I’ll be on a mild form of Prozac that helps calm the heart. And a Statin drug to reduce my chances of having a heart attack or stroke. Given there’s a history of these on both sides of my family, it makes sense.

Not sure how I feel about being on meds. But it helps my anxiety just knowing relief might come in one or two little bottles. I shudder at the idea of needing them. I rejoice at the possibilities for healing they contain.

I’m choosing life over and over while marshaling all my spiritual tools to reinforce the message. Let Gloria Gayner sing, I will survive!

So given all this, where am I at with steadfast?

This is the perfect time to evaluate all my commitments and clear some space for what really matters.

This is the perfect time to ask myself, what really, really matters.

Make time for myself, my self-care, and what really, really matters.

Because if you look at my life, you can’t tell. Is it daily posting on Medium? My involvement in crafting worship services at my church? Or the leadership and behind-the-scenes supporting roles I play on the Board of Directors?

Is it the classes I take with Ninja Writers? The ebooks in progress. The editing I so love doing for Middle-Pause? Is it the novel I’ve just outlined?

Or is it the novel I’m editing that I say is numero uno?

Or is it my health and well-being?

Do I have to change what I do? Or how I’m doing it?

I don’t have many answers at the moment.

But I so appreciate this prompt because it urges me to find some.

This is my life we’re talking about here.

I have no choice but to remain steadfast in my commitment to myself above all. Or none of the rest of this matters.

In the Japanese Kaizen ‘continuous improvement’ approach to organization, there is a method called lean. Applied to organizing a room, you start by taking everything moveable out of that room. You clear it completely.

Then you only put back what’s vitally needed in that room. You put the items right where they’ll be used. And if need be, you label drawers and shelves for easy access. We did this at my last job and it was miraculous.

But the hitch was, our departments did not lean their own spaces. We traded off. Physical therapy organized my department, Occupational Therapy’s wheelchair room. Speech therapy organized our workshop. We organized the nurses’ storage closets.

That was the only way to be objective. It was painful to watch them tossing out our stuff. But so healing and freeing in the end. Night and day.

Wow! Maybe I need to lean my life!

Strip it of everything and then add things back in one by one, in order of priority. With a room, you can tell when it’s full. You stop there and get rid of what didn’t fit. Or store it where it’s used.

But how do you do that with a life?

I don’t know, but I sure plan to find out! In the meantime, please keep me in your prayers. Thank you!

Thanks so much, Diana C. and Bingz Huang for this challenging prompt!

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!