Isn't that what a lot of us want- an experience, or an encounter, that somehow clears the fog of our busy minds, uncovering the hidden truth that we've known was there all along? Somehow miraculously unlocking the secret to our best life ever.
A wonderful woman that I knew when I lived in Las Vegas, has made it her mission to help women learn radiant self care. She put together a retreat and in April I boarded a plane bound for Bali, Indonesia- perfectly a half a world away. On a phone call before making the decision, the investment in myself, I straight up admitted I had no idea what qualified as self care. It was always kind of a vague, sentimental idea for people who had time to do yoga, meditate and straighten out their chakras, whatever that means.
Regardless of what my misconceptions were of self-care, I knew that after my severe depressive episode in November, there was nothing to lose.
I arrived in Bali 2 days before the rest of the group. I like experiencing things on my own for the sole purpose of having my own inner dialogue regarding a whole new world. It was so crowded. I mean... the first idea I ever had of Bali was the first thing proven wrong. It is not a quiet, vacation paced island catering to travelers searching for quiet bliss. Although, I was shocked to find our gorgeous villas only 1/2 a block off the main road and tranquil, beautiful bliss was everywhere inside the walls of our home away from home. I imagine that a lot of the resorts were similar.
I took it upon myself to go to the Bali Zoo and ride an elephant. I don't know why this was so important to me, but it was and I am thankful I did it. These creatures are amazing. I hate that I used them for my entertainment. Tokunga was my 13 year old elephant. I did get to feed her, but knowing they secured all the elephants with chains, and some had wounds on them, who knows what from, I felt as if I had taken advantage of and continued to encourage a practice that is ultimately against the right of the animal. I now feel a responsibility towards elephants, even if I don't know quite how that is going to pan out or what that "responsibility" looks like.
Our time in Bali was phenomenal. To be blatantly honest. It was a time to get real. To dive deep into the broken parts of ourselves, call bullshit on the things we used as excuses, and to forgive, accept, release, anything and everything that was blocking us from our authentic, true self. To finally find worth and value in our very own existence, just as we are. Faults and all.
Maybe you are wondering what kind of things does someone "get real" about.
My "stuff" was really your garden variety shamefulness. (too many anti-depressants and hospitalizations; two failed marriages; never enough willpower; not enough 'having it all together'). Sometimes confronting these thoughts out loud and head on- gives them the light that is needed to fully realize that they aren't useful, that they are only destructive. And it gives you the strength to silence your inner negative voice and replace it with the loving patience of your very own kind hearted soul. By getting rid of your negative Nancy you can actually start feeling capable to chase down, not only the things you need, but also the things you want and the things you desire. And that my friends is some pretty powerful stuff.
My first few steps on Indiana soil were filled with nausea and seering head pain. I just wanted to get home. Well...after a few trips to the ER and a week long hospitalization, I apparently got Dengue Fever. Damn Mosquitos. It has been a month since I returned to Indiana, when I first started showing symptoms and high fevers (103.9!!). Ask me how I feel today? I don't have a lot of energy. I feel like I just worked a week of 12 hour night shifts in a row. My joints hurt, my head hurts, and the only symptom that really doesn't bother me is the skin peeling off my feet. (It's totally gnarly.)
So, the moral of the story is, wear mosquito repellant.
A month home.
I look at the clock now- 12:52 pm. By this time tomorrow I will have said my goodbyes and shed a million tears for the love of my life, Beetle. A dog who has spent a decade as my constant companion. Living in apartments, spending 13 and 14 hours alone while I worked, and never failing to greet me with an excited and adorable butt wiggle with her helicopter tail. She has protected me her entire life. Barking at the slightest hint of danger, and sometimes that was a plastic grocery bag. Now, as she lays next to my bed at night with her labored breathing that only stops when she hears me move and she wants to know what I'm doing. Then after the brief holding of breath, her rapid, noisy panting continues. I hear her up at night and we sometimes go outside so she can do her business. I have to go with her. It's the hardest thing to watch. The arthritis in her hips makes her gait uneven. Her shortness of breath makes the distance she can walk without stopping, shorter and shorter. She can not lift her head up, maybe the arthritis has also affected her neck, or maybe she doesn't have the energy to pant for so long and lift her head at the same time. She no longer sits. She lays down, or she stands. If she stands she makes sure she can move without needing to back away from anything.
I have cried every night listening to her ceaseless panting. Looking in her eyes, seeing the fatigue, and what I can only call defeat. She doesn't get to spring up and chase the cat. She doesn't get to run out to the driveway and greet the newest arrival. She doesn't even bark anymore when a car drives by. My beautiful Beetle who would ride in the back seat, resting her head on my shoulder or barking out the windows. My funny Beetle who always wanted to go through peoples' legs so they would rub her back. My precocious and strong Beetle that used to require the "Gentle Leader" in order to be walked, is now going to require someone to carry her and lift her into the car. If I were going to do the last day of her life that way. But, no...there will be no more car rides, or barking to defend my honor. There will be no more snow dogs, making snow angels in long forgotten tennis courts. She will rest in my arms for her very last breath, here beside the bed that I sleep in, in the spot that she has taken up as her guard post for all these years. I will pray that she forgives me for not noticing sooner that she was sick. I will tell her that she's my best girl and that I love her. And then, I'll never be the same again.
No comments:
Post a Comment