My Mantra Is: As Long As I Breath In and Out

Whatever happens, I will handle it

I’m offering apologies to those few fans who may sometimes read my posts and might be wondering what’s happened to me the last two weeks; not a word had I written until yesterday.

The fact is I’ve had one or two family crises that have thrown me for a loop and I have been surviving by immersing myself in tons of self-care, abandoning everything else.

As if Life wasn’t hard enough with the pandemic and lockdown, my husband’s appendix decided this would be the perfect time to leave home. And why not? So what if most people have problems with their appendixes when they are children or young people? There’s always the exception.

The main problem was that although he had pains in his stomach for a couple of weeks, he couldn’t get an appointment with a doctor thanks to COVID-19. Instead, they had a video call which was totally unsatisfactory. Finally, the pain became so intense he insisted on being seen, and as soon as he was, the doctor immediately whisked him to the hospital.

Still, it wasn’t clear what the matter was for a further 48 hours. Three scans later, someone realised it was his appendix and he was taken into the theatre for an emergency appendectomy.

Meanwhile, I was left with nothing to do but chew on my nails for three days, completely unable to think properly or undertake my normal activities. To my surprise, I found myself emotionally and mentally depleted — who knew I was that attached? Not I.

I opened my diary and stared at my list of things to do. Then I got a red pen and crossed through everything that I felt I could let go of.

Thank goodness for meditation, my 12-step fellowship, my sponsor, friends, and zoom meetings. I upped my fellowship meetings from a couple of times a week to every day and immersed myself in the literature, slogans, and serenity prayer. Suddenly I had cause to give thanks for the pandemic without which there would not be all these zoom meetings. Life is nothing if not wonderful and weird.

I also I continued with my exercise — walking, yoga, and swimming.

Ten days later, as things seemed to be on an even keel again and my husband is safely home and convalescing the universe decides to send another little challenge.

It’s 10 pm and I’m my way to bed when I notice something odd about the teenager's bed – is there…? No way? Yes, way! The little minx has sneaked her bf into our house and up into her bedroom. (Breathe, just breathe.) I breathe in and out and calmly ask him to get out of the bed and leave our house.

Earlier, a fellowship friend had shared some wisdom in our WhatsApp group:

Does it need to be said?

Does it need to be said by me?

Does it need to be said by me right now?

I realise I have no words, so I lock up the house and go to bed.

The next day I start my day like any other; meditation, morning pages, fellowship readings, my gratitude list. It’s online yoga day so I go to that. I have breakfast. Later, I go for a walk with the teenager and our dog; we chat nonchalantly about this and that. I call on everything I can remember from my therapeutic parenting course.

I tell her I’ve spoken to our doctor and she will be calling to speak to her later, about caring for herself and her health.

On our way back home my adult daughter calls. She is stuck at the hairdressers; please can I go and pick up my grandson from school?

I open my mouth to say no way I’m exhausted, then I take a breath: “Sure hon, calling an Uber now.”

An hour later, I’m walking back home and I meet my husband on the doorstep, off to the doctor to have his stitches checked over.

“Would you like me to come with you?” I ask, praying that his answer is no.

It is.

I make myself a cup of tea and head upstairs to lie down; then the doctor returns my earlier call. She talks to the teenager about personal things to which I am not privy. Then another call comes in, from the social services. I’m almost at the door to my bedroom when the teenager's boyfriend's mother calls in response to my earlier text. We agree to speak the following day.

As I curl into my bed it’s not even 6 pm but I feel like I’ve been awake for 72 hours. I pull my duvet up to my chin, shake my fist at the universe a la Scarlett O’Hara, and say: “You think I’m broken? I am not — look at me, still breathing in and out.”

I recall a reading in my fellowship literature about the freedom we have to choose between reactionships and relationships. I remind myself that I choose relationships.

And that whatever happens, I can handle it.

Thanks to Chris Hedges for the tag.

and to Sherry McGuinn for starting it all.