This week has not been a winner in the life of Emily Clark. One to remember, definitely, but probably on my top 10 list of weeks I don't wish to ever repeat.
About an hour or so ago, my friend Theresa called to check-in on sickly me. Be proud of me, when she asked "how are you feeling?" I responded saying, "actually kind of awful" though I know the socially appropriate response is "oh, I'm doing alright" even if I feel like a slightly warmer version of death. Conversation ensued about the reasons for this awful feeling and took a slight left turn to emotions then a down escalator to problems and fears followed by a ferry ride through the sea of possibilities, specifically on the course of here-and-now acceptance strategies. Theresa is my "let's brainstorm a plan and use it to fix this" gal.
"Sit on your couch and watch your sick movie," she says. "But I don't know what my sick movie is...I know what yours is..." I respond almost thinking I could use her sick movie as my own then realizing that's exactly what I need to not do--to look away from what I need and what will make this easier for me and instead, forces on someone else in a way that I know I can fix...because, after all, it's much more fulfilling and far less vulnerable to fix another person's problems than to sit in the swampland of your own. And then it came to me: Pocahontas! She's not my favorite, not even close, but that's not the point. She's got a simple story with laughs and tears and songs and colors. I can watch it with my eyes transfixed or with them gently fluttering closed and it is exactly perfect.
Yesterday was my first day of class and I left school after 1 1/2 (of 3) classes--this is very unlike me, I don't leave unless I have to leave. People know this about me. My graduate program is not tiny but it's not ginormous--about 120--and I'm are studying clinical mental health social work (aka therapy) which means all my teachers are current or former therapists and by mid-semester a lot of our personal junk has been neatly layered on the desks of our classroom. This ain't law school people. This is just to say that a friend called me after I told her I had left early and decided I was struggling. True, but I wasn't going to say it. She showed up later with some of my favorite foods (i.e Cinnamon Chex and Rainbow Sherbet) and ready to have a conversation not about how I was feeling.
I have many talents. Declaring my needs is not one of them. I know this. For years, I've sort of hoped people will just know what I need and be able to provide those things to me. Then I realized that I'm not the only one who can't read minds, it's part of the human condition. Dang. But I spent so long not articulating these things that to do so now feels at best, foreign, at worst, unreachable. Luckily, I have found a happy medium, I have found people who have instincts and who know me well. I have learned to stomach the feeling associated with saying "something's not quite right right now and I want you to know" and I'm still working on changing the second clause to "and I need some help," but there are folks in my life who interchange those words for me and then they poke me and poke me until I let them help.
Sometimes it's a push to do what you need rather than settle for what works for someone else. Sometimes it's a hug. Sometime's its knocking you down just to remind you how strong your legs really are. Sometimes it's saying 'I care about you and I'm here for you' by doing something I can't. And, hey, sometimes it's colluding together to avoid the problem.
Cheers to being better together...to feeling better together!
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