Surfacing After Silence

Life. After.

You’ll Get There In Time

my meditation beads

my meditation beads

I’ll reveal my age with this entry by listing a couple musical groups that scream “I’m from the 90s!”

(I’m 37)

I was driving to the pharmacy earlier, to pick up a prescription from my trip to the ER last night.  Emotionally, things are improving greatly.  Physically, things seem to be deteriorating greatly.  These lyrics came out of my iPod:

“So you know who you are
And you know what you want
I’ve been where you’re going
And it’s not that far
It’s too far to walk
But you don’t have to run
You’ll get there in time
Get there in time”  (Jars of Clay)

When I was in recovery from the eating disorder, I really really wanted to leave the hospital and be better.  I’m sure many of you have felt the same way.  In fact, I think the fact that we expect the hospital to cure us ends up harming us in the long run.  Because, really recovery only begins in the hospital.  People had told me that recovery is a journey and not a destination, and I both agree and disagree with that statement.  I believe recovery can be a destination.  But it does take a journey to get there.  A long, hard journey.  I was lucky, because I had a friend who had reached that destination I was after, and she reminded me over and over again that it takes time, and that I don’t have to rush anything, and I would get there when I was meant to.

And I’m not all that big of a fan of Miley Cyrus, but Hannah Montana’s “The Climb” — If I’m alone in my car while it is playing, I will sing louder and better than at any other point in my life, including all those sight singing finals I had to take!  The whole freaking song seems to apply to my life.  There will always be another mountain and I will always want to make it move.  As in NOW.

The beads in the picture are my meditation beads.  I mainly use them when I’m obsessively worrying about something, and I’ll  finger each bead and breathe with each one and that seems to help me return to the present moment.  I cannot make tomorrow come faster; I cannot move any mountains in one minute’s time; I cannot fix the future.

This recent depressive episode has reminded me that recovery takes time and that I cannot force it according to my schedule.  (My schedule rarely works, anyway.)

My recent physical illness of some unknown origin has reminded me of this process . . . this is going to take time.  I have found doctors who are listening to me and looking for answers.  I am doing all that I can do.  Just because I am not better when I wake up tomorrow morning does not mean I won’t eventually get better.  And “get better” includes different scenarios, and I really can’t control what happens.

I can take care of me today, now, in the present moment, with the reassurance that this will help me in the future.

For today, remember that you are doing what you can in this moment.  That is all you need to be doing.


November 23, 2014 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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