Holidays are special days and most people have a favorite. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Channukah, and even birthdays are sacred dates on the calendar.
For me, it’s Easter. Representing loss, revival, and renewal, Easter restores my faith that after a cold, long period of winter, spring returns to make everything new and alive again.
This year, my favorite holiday was accompanied by thunderstorms and cloudy skies; not exactly the bright and cheery day I was anticipating. But, like most things that happen in my life, I decided to make the best of it and use the stay-at-home opportunity to reflect on my own transformation.
I’ve lost a lot over the past few years: friends, family, loved ones, and my bestest canine companion. I had to let go of those who I thought were my people, only to discover I never really knew them and lost souls who were incredibly important to my personal, spiritual journey.
I realized that I was having a crisis of faith. Not the typical life-cycle rebellious phase when we purposely step away from a belief system to avoid the consequence model that comes with it, but a true, reflective “where have You been?” crisis laden with more questions than answers accompanied by an uncomfortable silence that only makes one wonder even more whether or not the Divine Universe is listening.
I’ll admit that I’ve been angry for quite some time, smiling through gritted teeth while holding back tears of pain and sorrow. It’s not easy being vulnerable, especially when that vulnerability is exposing a gap in your most precious spiritual beliefs.
Recently, I started recounting all the You Gotta Be Kidding Me’s that have happened over the past decade and shared that with a friend of mine in the psychology community. Even he had to agree that life seemed to provide me with a disproportionate portion of sucky experiences.
Still raw from losing my Husky, Aiden, I slid into a temporary bout of doom scrolling on social media. Noticing I hadn’t updated my LinkedIn profile with my latest promotion, I quietly revised my title and avoided the look-at-me fanfare that usually accompanies that change on the platform. I did this by keeping the update out of my newsfeed, so I escaped the litany of “congratulations” and behind the scenes “can you get me a job” messages. However, I was notified of someone peeking at my profile who was, well, uninvited to do so. Rather than make a reactionary fuss or acknowledge the site visit, I let myself sit with it for a couple of days and then discussed the event with my son.
“Madre, block him. If it makes you that uncomfortable, do it.” My son, as usual, was right. There was no reason, a decade later, this person had any reason to be concerned with my life changes and choices. None.
My psychology colleague explained to me that this type of curiosity stems from one of two root causes; true affection and hope of your life well lived after separation, or an infuriating sense of revenge and disgust because your life is going so well without them. Based upon the damage control I had to do after evicting this person from my life, I suspect that the latter is most likely true.
I put on a brave face to keep a status quo I never wanted to maintain. I decided to change the game, but my ex decided to redefine the rules. This played out repeatedly for ten years, when I finally had the courage to break free from the “nice guy” who was simply playing a part in a production of his own design.
Anger is incredibly motivating, and in some ways, liberating. Sometimes it takes getting angry to do something to bring about change in your circumstances. I allowed myself to be stuck for so long that once I decided to move in a different direction, it took me some time to find the right gear and head forward. That kind of stagnation can make you mad.
But Universe’s Infinite Wisdom forced me to slow down and really look at my life from a new perspective, and as I did so, other things started to fall apart, and away to take my mind off the disappointment from that era. With one click of a button, the negative waves of that time came washing back over me and dragged me back down for one last time.
But at Easter, I forced myself to snap out of it and finally start to let go of the dark forces that bound me to those feelings and banish them once and for all. I was not a bad person for having a change of heart. I was not without compassion for someone who could not fully adult alone, and I was certainly not at fault for saying no to mind games and manipulation used to make me feel guilty and motivated to be unequally responsible for someone who was not my “equally yoked” counterpart.
As I sat on the couch during the Easter storm, the rain clouds moved in, the natural lighting that shone through my sitting room windows darkened. I reached for the ceiling fan remote control and remembered “oh yeah, that damn thing still doesn’t work…my luck at work again.” Instead, I got up and turned on the lamps scattered around the space. I let my anger flow over me, shrugging off the latest frustration and impending hit to my checkbook. “Oh well.”
Fast forward seven weeks into the future and several other disasters later, I finally succumbed to the reality that life, at least while on this planet, will be a series of obstacles and challenges meant to bend and sometimes break us, and if we’re lucky, every now and then, we get a sign that change is once again on the horizon.
I started my PhD program this week, and I started to set up my study space so I could be near the dogs while reading copious pages of psychology content and listen to the news in the background. Strangely, I found myself reaching for the ceiling fan remote control. I’m not sure why I thought it would magically start working again, but I am a glutton for recurring disappointment.
In a mocking tone, I pointed it toward the ceiling and said, “Go ahead, rain on my parade.” The fan’s light fixture came on and stayed lit for the rest of the afternoon. I tried my luck, and the fan also started up and kept spinning. I was being mocked.
“Son of a gun.” My brows furled, and my lips frowned. Apparently, having no expectations is the new path to getting what you want. By all means, let the light shine down, see if I care.