Last night I was complaining to a friend about how every time I seem to turn a corner in coping with my divorce, there's another corner there in front of me. It's been more than six months. I'm sleeping fine. I'm about 40 pounds lighter, but could well afford to lose the weight. The white hairs around my temples have suddenly multiplied. but it gives me a more distinguished aura. Things with my kids are in a very good place. The time I spend with them is quality, and I'm seeing lots of them. I love our new place and I love the person I'm becoming.
And yet. I regularly run up against the fact that I'm not doing as well as I think. Work is overwhelming. Focus is hard. Emotions keep unfolding. I told my friend last night that I needed to get a grip. As someone who's been there and knows plenty of others who've traveled the same road, he said something profound. Over the years, I've come to regard genius as having a talent for the obvious which remains hidden. His advice meets the definition.
I cannot simply will myself into a more clear and productive space. I need to invite others to help, and focus where I can be at my best. "You keep saying you need to get a grip," he said, "but there's no reason to think that's suddenly going to happen. You're slogging through shit, and you will be for awhile. Assume griplessness."
Assume griplessness. For now, it's my new motto.