NPM: Buried (Day 5)

A poem for Easter.

Buried - Written March 16, 2015, revised April 5, 2015

we touch solid ground
and from our feet spreads gold

the snow is made of diamonds
because we are treasure
in the aftermath
we are precious
in the alabaster canyon

and this is the message
rising from our ashen insides
we will rise again like
the icy drifts and gilded pleasures
like windy whispers
of a time we already forgot

we wandered in the wilderness
ferocious like barbarians
wild like the foxes
surviving in the abandoned places

until our eyes fall out
and shine like priceless stones
until our hearts turn cold
and are worn like polished pendants

this is the message
rising from our ashen insides
as certainly as we were buried
we will rise again

Recess

While tutoring a ten-year-old today I came across the word 'recess.' He had two long lists of words to study, and this was one of them. I varied the studying methods--a definition there, a spelling here, a sentence for each one. I asked him what recess was and he said, "When you get to play!" I agreed, then reminded him it could also just mean a break.

It immediately brought me back to my own ten-year-old self, and all the recesses I was forced to endure. As an adult I am more aware of the rest of the word--it offers us a break from real life, a respite from the day-to-day or the overwhelming. It could mean we take a long bath or go for a walk or snuggle with a fluffy dog. Maybe it means hot cups of coffee with friends or watching hours of Netflix or going swimming.

As a child, it was strictly for playing outside. I grew up in Washington state, and our school took recess very seriously. We had one mid-morning and another right after lunch, and it had to be raining (not drizzling, which is more common) in order for recess to be held inside.

I loved indoor recess, but not for the reasons you might think. I actually loved playing outside. At home, I would spend hours playing in the woods, climbing trees and riding my bike down a dangerously steep hill. I had scraped knees and slivers and weird tan lines on my legs from hours spent rollerblading. Being outside in my own domain was a thrill and a joy.

But being outside on a playground where some unknown "Recess Duty" would admonish me if I didn't have a ball in my hand or wasn't swinging on the monkey bars was more like a punishment. I was also extremely shy, extremely terrified of strangers and confrontation, and so the prospect of being approached by the Recess Duty because I wasn't "playing" scared me to death.

I wanted to be inside reading--which is, of course, why I loved rainy days and indoor recess. I loved curling up with a book in my classroom's library, or coloring vast landscapes at my desk until the bell rang again. There is something depressing about the fact that 'play' used to only mean running, jumping, or climbing. I hate that the other kinds of play, the kinds I was so connected to as a kid, were somehow considered lazy or less beneficial.

As I went on a sort of emotional adventure last weekend, this weekend I'll be taking another break from the real world--a recess, you might say. It's time for another road trip, for sure. In recent weeks I have been overwhelmed by doctors and recovering and bad news, and the turmoil of knowing it's all going to get more painful and overwhelming before any of it gets better. Starting next week I have my first post-op appointment, so before all of it begins...

I'm taking a recess. I'm going to play. I'm going to be with friends. We'll watch movies, drink tea, maybe even read books or draw pictures. I'm going to take a break and play in the way that most benefits me. I don't even care if it's raining.

I Gotta Feeling

As I'm sure some of you have already discovered at this point in your lives, there is no rule book for feelings. There are unwritten, unspoken rules, unclear rules like "don't make mountains out of molehills" and "don't cry over spilled milk." The problem is, even unwritten and unspoken those rules are more about what you do with your feelings that how to have them. The Bible tells us a lot about actions--don't steal, don't kill, don't sleep with your neighbor's wife--things we should or should not do when we feel certain things. We should act on our forgiveness, and not on our lust. We are commanded to love, which might seem like a feeling, but we know it isn't. It also falls under the "behavior" or action category. The Bible doesn't say, "Always be happy" or "Never be angry" or "Stop being such a grumpy pants."

This leads to a life full of questions about the way we feel. Feelings are these complex, intangible things that prompt us to speak out of turn or behave in bizarre ways. If we happen to understand the Bible a little bit we know that certain feelings should not make us act--our most passionate anger should not cause us to kill someone or act violently. It's also true that even if we never follow the directions about how to act, we do know where to look for those rules, and even if we don't feel the Bible will lead us to the answers, they are still prevalent in most societies. Don't kill. Don't steal. Respect other human beings. These are commonplace rules about what to do or not do with our feelings. But there is still a chasm of uncertainty about how to simply have feelings in the first place.

To some this might seem like God doesn't care about our feelings, that he put them out there for us to use without any proper guidelines--but it's the opposite. If he didn't care, he wouldn't allow us to have them, wouldn't give us opportunities to let our feelings push us in one direction or another. He wants us to have them, to some degree. And we certainly have them. We have them often, inappropriately, unnecessarily, abundantly, intensely, and sometimes they come out of nowhere. But the problem with feelings, even after you've figured out how to have them, is that most of the time that's not enough. We want to do things with our feelings, and that's why the rules about actions are so much clearer than the rules about possession (so to speak) of feelings.

This is why we have thirteen-year-old Katie professing her "love" for a thirteen-year-old boy. (Granted, my friends convinced me that I had to tell him, but they were also thirteen.) 

This is why people bite their nails and smash things and flip people off in the car.

This is why we have dating sites and music therapy and talk shows and... drugs?

See, in spite of the fact that there aren't really any rules about your feelings, you can still expect to have them, and you can still expect the world to tell you what you should do with them. Nobody on earth really knows what you should do, but they'll tell you anyways. They'll tell you to go after that girl/guy you are hopelessly in love with, and to let go of your anger because it leads nowhere good (which is a bold-faced lie, fyi). These are the same people who believe "happiness" is the end-all be-all in life and that you can choose it, therefore your clinical depression is a mind-over-matter issue and that, of course, all your other feelings are also dictated by your attitude.

All. Lies.

I firmly believe that all of our feelings and emotions are valid, and by that I mean we are entitled to feel things even if we got to that feeling by mistake. For example, I once had a delicious cup of coffee I had been saving and I left it on the table while I went to the bathroom. When I returned it was half gone, and I was irritated because I thought my husband had done it. It was actually the dog. My irritation was valid, simply because something important to me (my cup of coffee) had been violated or compromised. If I had punched my husband in the face in my irritation, I would be in the wrong. However, simply feeling irritated because something went wrong is completely reasonable. I would have had the same emotion if I had spilled my own coffee. You can see how this would apply to other situations. The actions which our emotions lead us to are not always valid, but the way we possess our feelings is justifiable. 

I mentioned the other day the tiny bottle brimming with ibuprofen that I was prescribed after my surgery. At first glance, I thought, "Well, I'm gonna be needing those!" They wouldn't give me so many if I wasn't going to need them, right? I will be feeling pain and therefore I should want to get rid of it. 

And at first I told myself I didn't need them. And then I did. And I do right now.

But if I had wanted to, I could have said, "Nope. No pills for me! I'm invincible!" I didn't say that, because I don't actually enjoy pain, but I could have. I could have chosen to fully feel the pain--I would have been choosing pain over all other feelings. I would have chosen pain over the joy of reading a good book, over the relaxation of a hot shower, over restful sleep and being able to eat without feeling nauseated, over laughter and long conversations and coherent thoughts.

What I'm really trying to say is that in the face of different feelings, we get to choose which one to focus on. It doesn't mean the pain is gone, or that I am completely at ease with all of this post-surgery nonsense. I am not. I am quite suddenly bombarded with the confusing burden of "pre-cancer" and there is definitely a part of me that just wants to panic and be sad. And yet, there is this other part of me, this resilient part that is absorbing the support of all my beloved friends and this part of me feels unstoppable, unshakable, unafraid. There is something so uplifting about knowing that if I wanted to scream and cry there would be support all around me. If I want to do the opposite, if I want to find joy and beauty in the midst of the pain, I find support there as well.

So I am taking those painful feelings and I'm going to put them in my pocket for a little while. I'm going to take a break from being sad and just let myself be at peace.

The pain and fear and panic are present, but only among so many other things to feel, and to do. I'm about to have an incredible weekend, during which I will get to support some wonderful people and in turn be supported. I'm going to work hard, and in that space if I find myself sad or anxious or joyful or excited, the support will still be there.  I'm going to feel all my feelings and it's going to be beautiful.  Nobody else gets to tell me how to feel. If doing this makes me feel fulfilled, joyful, encouraged, loved, precious, exhilarated, invigorated, or whatever... nothing is going to stop me.  I might hurt at the end of it, but it will be worth every second. This is my pain, and this is what I'm doing with it. 

And so I just want to encourage anyone reading this that you should own your feelings too. Owning them doesn't mean you're going to run people over with your car when you're angry, or call your ex-boyfriend when you're sad, or buy an expensive and unnecessary trampoline when you're really excited about life. (Even though that sounds really awesome, and if anybody actually goes and buys a trampoline, please invite me over to play on it.) You just get to hold your feelings, and look at them, figure out why you have them, and then... you get to decide if you want to something with them. And what sort of thing you might do with them. Or not.

Today I choose to do, to behave fearlessly, and I'm going to feel incredible about every moment... because that's what I've decided.