Behind The Scenes of Resilience

A couple of weeks ago someone said to me, “No matter what happens, you will be ok. You are resilient”.  I always cringe a little when someone says that to me. It brings me back to being a child and overhearing my mother talking to a friend on the phone. She said, “Bonnie is handling the new school so well. She is strong and always goes with the flow.” She was referring to our most recent move. That was just the beginning. By the time I was 25 I had lived in 5 different states, never spending more than 4 years in any one home. Hearing my mom say those words that day put a lot of internal pressure on me that I carry to this day. I have always felt like I wasn’t allowed to be anything but strong. My mom didn’t know how lonely I felt and how hard it was to make new friends everywhere I went. Never having long term friendships, I learned early on how to deal with things by myself because I didn’t feel I had anyone to turn to. I always wished I could just break down and just stop. Instead I pushed those feelings aside and moved forward. This was interpreted as being strong…being resilient. 

I had a conversation with a client today. I don’t know exactly what lead us to talking about it, but she was asking me questions about ALS and how it all started for Scott. She wanted to know how he came to find out that he had ALS and how long it was between him being diagnosed and him passing away. I shared things about how his disease progressed and things I had completely forgotten. I talked for the whole time her hair processed and probably told her more than she had bargained for when she began asking me questions. She listened patiently and she said, “That must have been very difficult for you to deal with.” Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it. I finished her hair, cleaned up my station and left the salon for the day. I cried the whole way home, turning it over in my head. 

When I arrived home, I found it was empty, which is becoming the norm these days. The quiet is starting to get to me. It seems that in 6 years I have gone from this extreme situation where I had no time to even think, to a quiet house and nobody to cook dinner for. I’m spinning my wheels trying to get my footing in this new reality and it all seems so unreal and so senseless. All of that effort and work to be left alone to figure out what is next for myself. I’m not sure what the point of it is. I feel like I don’t quite belong. My kids have their own lives now and I find myself sitting here waiting for them to have an empty moment in their day and hoping that they would want to spend that moment with me. Instead I have this empty house and no real reason to be here. I miss my family time. I don’t know what to do with myself and my friends are all busy with their own lives that I don’t quite belong in either.  This is the story in my head. The thoughts that I need to rearrange. Most days I head to my yoga mat, but today I changed my clothes and got back in my car and I hit the trails.

I walked to the river and as I walked I turned my thoughts to gratitude. I thought of all the things that are working in my life. I reassure myself that I am not actually alone, and that I have friends and family and people who care that I can reach out to anytime I am ready. It is what I have done for years and as usual, it worked. I was then able to clear my head and I began to feel better. I walked back up the hill to my car feeling calm and more centered. 

It might seem that by taking this step that I have handled myself well. The thing is though, I’ve never been able to share these feelings with the boys and therefore, this habit of holding it together has resulted in a family that cannot cry together.  We cannot bear to open the wound of grief for fear of burdening each other with our own pain. So instead, we avoid it all together. Opting instead to share only the happy memories and steering clear of the elephant in the room of what went down and how we feel about it. I have little idea of how the boys have processed the loss of their dad and their own accounts of what happened.  They have found ways to process and deal with things on their own.  I see them being strong and holding themselves together very well given the circumstances. I also see that in my inability to have better communication about our loss, I have unintentionally  passed the baton of resilience to my kids.

The side of resilience that is not seen by the outside world is the side that is screaming inside. Everyone sees the well composed, calm, smiling face. Rarely does anyone witness the raw and very real emotions. The tear streaked face that is screaming in the car because it is the only place that no one will hear. The texts intending to reach out that get deleted out of fear of exposing anyone to the reality of my emotions. Feeling it isn’t the appropriate time to  reach out because even well meaning friends have lives too and don’t want burdened with my troubles. Instead, I answer their call and listen and support them. I hang up the phone without letting them know any of what is happening with me because they are having a rough day of their own.  

I wonder if being resilient is even strong at all.  It would take more strength to express my feelings and be real, rather than living in fear of the reaction people would have to what is actually going on in my head.  I often think that the real brave people are the ones who lose their shit and don’t give a fuck what people think of it.  Of course everyone thinks they are the crazy ones. I am beginning to think that it is crazy to hold it together. It isn’t a normal response to smile through tears and move on as though nothing is happening inside or to make others laugh rather than share the reality of your feelings. I wonder if that is why people who commit suicide often have families that never saw it coming. They never knew what was going on in the mind of the person who seemed to have it all together.

I often come to my yoga mat needing to straighten my thoughts out and clear my energy so that I can keep moving forward. I have had many yoga teachers talk about carrying what we learn on our mat into our daily lives. What that has meant to me seems contrary to their intention. The instructors are good at reminding us that this is our practice and that we can stop and rest when we want to. Then at some point in the middle of the practice when it is getting really hard, they tell us to stick with it and to not give up. We are then meant to carry that idea into the real world and be strong through the difficult times and not give up. My thought is always “I don’t have to.” It’s my rebellion. All I want is to stop a minute to catch my breath, to rest and regroup before going to the next thing. I know that I am allowed to do that on my mat and at times it is the only place I have been able to allow myself that grace.  What I take with me from my practice is to allow myself the same grace in real life. The grace to stop and take a breath.

I have spent the past few weeks writing and rewriting this blog post. It started out being all about the recent trials and tribulations and how I manage to keep myself above water emotionally. Then I realized that it isn’t about holding onto a story and turning it over and over in your head until I can tell it just right. It’s ok if the story is messy, because life is messy.  It isn’t about pushing my emotions away, but rather about feeling them and then letting them go. Remembering to take a minute to breathe and allowing myself the grace to just stop. Being brave and sharing my feelings with those who will listen.  It is trusting that things will work out. It’s knowing things are better around the corner and that I will find my way because I always have.  It is refusing to give up even though I want to crumble inside, because I know… I am Resilient.