{"id":792,"date":"2011-12-31T11:31:26","date_gmt":"2011-12-31T15:31:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gloriacrist.com\/blog\/?p=792"},"modified":"2011-12-31T11:31:26","modified_gmt":"2011-12-31T15:31:26","slug":"still-voice","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.gloriacrist.com\/blog\/2011\/12\/still-voice\/","title":{"rendered":"Still Voice."},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>\u00a0 You would think hitting a wall, literally,head on, in October would have been a big indication I needed to slow down, sit still, process, proceed with caution.\u00a0 But no.\u00a0 I did not. I stitched up the broken places and kept going.\u00a0 Next.\u00a0 I kept going.<\/p>\n

You would think the spinning,spinning in my brain and the sleepless nights throughout would have been an indication to slow down.\u00a0 Be still.\u00a0 But no.\u00a0 I kept going.\u00a0 I lit the match on the incense-and let it burn down to the nub-as my little Buddha patiently waited for me to come to a halt for just a moment,please, in the pause, and sit.\u00a0 But no.<\/p>\n

It is not in my nature. Never has been. To slow down goes against the grain. Perhaps that is why I loved running marathons so much. I just had to keep going.\u00a0 2 miles turn into 4, 4 turn into 8, 8 into 16 and then the home stretch and suddenly, in a given amount of time, 26.2 was completed.\u00a0 I could stop, for just a moment. Next.<\/p>\n

And then,recently, when the still voice, that one honed so well on past mistakes and shoulda’s, coulda’s, woulda’s.\u00a0 That voice, well fed on earned wisdom and courage, was not so still and screamed at me to stop, to slow down to, let it all go.\u00a0 I did not listen.\u00a0 I kept going. I was keeping grief at bay.\u00a0 Not realizing I had to give it time to breathe and be part of who I was, at least for a little while.<\/p>\n

“Four seasons.” A dear friend recently said to me.\u00a0 “You have to get through four seasons.”<\/p>\n

And then what?\u00a0 I am a woman who has always known what to do.\u00a0 My default is continual motion.\u00a0 I do the right thing.\u00a0 No matter what. I work hard.\u00a0 I see things through.<\/p>\n

Oldest child syndrome?\u00a0 Or just a child raised to achieve?\u00a0 To pursue?\u00a0 To plow through?\u00a0 No rest stops along the way.\u00a0 I can not remember a time, ever, when I quit.\u00a0 If one job was over, it was time to find another.\u00a0 If one crisis was on the mend, I dealt with it and moved on to, well, sometimes another crisis and maybe then a bit of calm.\u00a0 Life and all that. Failure, for lack of a better word, has never been an option.\u00a0 And while, these default modes have served me well, I have come to realize, these modes of , what? Survival?\u00a0 Perfection?\u00a0 Also have become a hindrance.\u00a0 I listened more to the cares and wants of others and not to the ones of myself. I stopped listening to that still voice.\u00a0 She has always been right.\u00a0 And I tuned her out. Muted her but good. Funny how that happens.\u00a0 It is not so obvious in the midst of turmoil, but there in the aftermath, I have been the one left the most depleted.\u00a0 The one not being most true to me.\u00a0 I thought I knew better.\u00a0 I though I learned that lesson.\u00a0 Many, many times over.\u00a0 But grief is a funny thing.\u00a0 It hovers.\u00a0 It lingers.\u00a0 It shifts and changes.\u00a0 And then, without warning, at least in my case, it whacks you upside the head and heart and leaves you motionless.\u00a0 Forced still.\u00a0 But not the good kind.\u00a0 Not the calm kind of still.\u00a0 Nope, in\u00a0 my case, the still came with doubt and uncertainty.\u00a0 It crept along behind me, annoyingly so and would not leave me be.\u00a0 I cried.\u00a0 A lot. I slept- very little. I cried-even more. I got angry. Judgemental. I held things in for fear I would say the wrong thing-or worse, say what I really felt.\u00a0 I went overboard.\u00a0 I got involved in projects I had no business being involved in, whatsoever.\u00a0 I did not listen and I kept going.But I was going nowhere.\u00a0 2 miles did not turn into 4, 4 did not turn into 8.\u00a0 I was stuck and nothing was working.\u00a0 My tricks-the ones that always got me through, well-they just were useless.<\/p>\n

I don’t remember ever being as exhausted as I was. As I am.\u00a0 In the bones and in my being.\u00a0 I am reminded when, after the second year of caring for my mom, with all that goes with caring for a parent, turned into the third year and more of her mind started to go, and I started to grieve then for the mom I knew and for the mom I knew was never coming back- a longtime mentor reminded me to not fool myself into thinking the grief I was feeling at the time would not resurface again on that day, whenever that day, or night it would be mom passed away. Grief will resurface, she said.\u00a0 And it did. There was no running away from this one.<\/p>\n

“Don’t kid yourself”, she said.<\/p>\n

But I did.\u00a0 I am sure I did.<\/p>\n

There was so much to do at the time. The travel back and forth.\u00a0 The tending to, the caring of, the paperwork, the checking in, the things we do when someone we love is dying and we want to do things right, as we should. Making sure health care and insurance allow her to die the way she wants.\u00a0 Bending the rules, begging.\u00a0 Watching a mother hold on to her mind and find the ease to breathe is not for the faint of heart and soul.\u00a0 Not one bit.\u00a0 I thought that was grieving.\u00a0 And I kept going.\u00a0 There was no time to stop. I was raising a child and being a wife and somewhere in there trying to find some iota of something for myself.\u00a0 Wanna guess which went first?<\/p>\n

But then, in the very quiet of a mid December 3am, when the house and all her contents were at rest, and I was sitting by a waning fire, that still voice spoke. I thought at first, it was the sound of my own muffled cries-you know when you cry quietly so no one else will hear. Those sounds we all make when we weep from the soul.\u00a0 When all you want to do is cry.\u00a0 I thought at first, it was the ramblings of my thoughts, trying to figure it all out-to find the solution.\u00a0 To find the way. To keep going. To not disappoint.\u00a0 To not let others down.\u00a0 What to do?\u00a0 And then again, from the deepest, softest squishy parts of my inner self-that still voice got louder.<\/p>\n

Stop.<\/p>\n

Just stop.<\/p>\n

Be still.<\/p>\n

Be. Still.<\/p>\n

And for the first time in a long time, I\u00a0 listened.\u00a0 I heard.\u00a0 I stopped.<\/p>\n

I made decisions that served me and all that I am.\u00a0 Others did not like that so much.\u00a0 But I am okay with that.\u00a0 I wasn’t at first to be truthful, but it settled into a knowing.<\/p>\n

I slept.\u00a0 I cried some more.\u00a0 I hugged my child.\u00a0 I kissed my husband.<\/p>\n

I sat still.<\/p>\n

I grieved.\u00a0 I am grieving.<\/p>\n

I found strength.<\/p>\n

I found my still.\u00a0 I found my voice.<\/p>\n

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