Last week I read somewhere that carbonless paper gives off BPA's - the same estrogen-mimicking-thing that's in plastics. I freaked. Every week I use carbonless paper to do my deposits and write out my checks, plus most receipts we receive from the stores are written with carbonless paper!
So I go to scrambling on the internet for the old blue carbon stuff to write out deposits and checks (can't find it anywhere). I start being in fear of whatever's out there that could cause me a relapse. I fear that whatever I'm doing or not doing could cause my death! Then after a few days, I let go and try accept the sad fact that I am not in control of everything.
I am trying to develop that adult, rational voice inside of me that says, "hey, you're doing your best. You're exercising, taking Femara, eating more veggies, and every ache and pain may just be that you are growing older. You do what you can do with the information you have and let the rest go. You are not in control of when you die. You can rest."
Dying is the ultimate letting go. We are not in control of when we die! Even people who never exercised, never ate right and never thought positively live into their 90's. Even people who have smoked and had a triple bypass and a pacemaker and cancer live to their late 80's. Even people who never smoked, ate healthy and were always thinking positive died of lung cancer.
Ultimately, in my view of things, you either die suddenly of some disease or accident or you live a long, long life until you are ready to let go and give up. That's what I'm seeing around me in my own small circle of friends and family. And I know that sometimes, you're never ready to let go of living - and you may have to experience a slow, long, awful physical demise...your own body forcing you to transition...your own body forcing you to let go of control.
I've been feeling more depressed lately and reluctant to speak/write my thoughts. There's a critic inside me when I feel this way that says nothing I do is right, nothing I think is right, I'm not doing enough and am not doing what I should be doing. It's a scared, destructive and pushy voice that thinks I need to listen to it in order to not die and in order to be better and have a better life. A life with no problems...a safe life.
I've come to know this critic inside as the voice I developed as a child to protect myself. It's a childish, moralistic, religious, puritanical voice that views the world in black and white, good and bad, life and death and seeks only perfection. And it's not only pointing its angry finger toward me but also toward whoever else I think is standing in the way of a perfect world.
I'm starting to see that voice as a childish theology. Instead of having the theology of Divine Arms you can rest in, the internalized Parent/Protector is a critical pusher that drives you mercilessly, making you think that's what will keep you safe. In this childish, archaic theology there are no Arms to rest in...yours are the only arms that you can depend on and those arms must be vigilant and working and perfecting yourself and everything always.
And rather than keeping you safe, this inner critic leads you toward your own demise.
I developed tennis elbow and I burned my arm in the oven and I slammed my finger in the door. This voice has been driving me beyond my human boundaries because it's theology doesn't allow for being human because it doesn't allow for a G-d. It only sees religions and differences and the surface of everything. It only sees this world and doesn't see anything else. It only sees all the problems and all the things I need to do to fix them. It's what I get busy for and what I get busy to avoid listening to.
I think that's why I love learning from Hasidic masters. They uncover the humming underneath it all where everything is one and everything is good. The critic doesn't need to scream at me and push me when I hold a mystical, miraculous theology that is deeper than all the surface religions. Surface theologies stay on the surface of things commanding right and wrong, hating differences and other. They really bore me and I think that the worst of them lead to war and hatred and murder and my inner critic gets really angry with them.
When I look at the black hat and the wig and all the other unusual practices of Hasidisic Chabad I don't see difference and other but instead I see something magical and other worldly. I know I'm unusual, but that's how I get my kicks.
This deeper spirituality is where I can rest and be ok with my arm hurting and being myself and slowing down and remembering that death is just a doorway. I can find a voice inside of me that uplifts rather than pushes. This theology shows me what I do right and what I can be grateful for and how nice it is that I'm not in control of everything. It shows me that even the things that seem bad are all good even though they may be bitter.
Everything is good and I can speak and share my thoughts and it's ok if I get long winded here and it's ok my arm hurts and in fact, my arm might be telling me something! I enjoy sharing all of myself when I strengthen my deeper, more adult theology. I can Live with the bitter knowing that there is really only Life. And what a wonderful, beautiful, mystical, magical, miraculous, good, long life it is!
Geoff's family is descending on us next week for T.G. Lot's to be thankful for this year. Hope you all have a great holiday.
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