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.
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4 comments:
How crazy to suddenly find your blog. I have heard bits and pieces about you from Daria from time to time.
I'm sorry to hear about your divorce, happy to hear about your kids.
Gripplessness is a good thing to be at peace with, I suppose.
Peace. :)
I've recently come to understand that relationship is fundamentally gripless. Fortunately it's not always so difficult or painful.
It is always a challenge to get a grip on a wound. These personal crises do eventually scar, but it's sorta like Harry Potter's mark that throbbed whenever he-who-must-not-be-named got nearby. There's no evil wizard, just things and people you once loved, and still do in surprising yet compromised ways, and the recollections that won't fade. I kinda lean toward Wendell Berry when he describes "a way of ignorance," which is in fact the truest path for us as we seek to have all the knowledge possible, ergo, getting a grip, and seek what cannot be realized. Our ignorance, however, is something we live out daily. Berry says it's about caring, being neighbor, and so on. The unrewarded (by sheepskins) pieces of the world. Look for peace in the pieces,... I say.
Bless your busted up heart. Too bad all advice sounds trite right now, but here's some anyway. Just wake up everyday, count your blessings, stay active, keep getting that good sleep, talk to friends, go for nice walks, and after a year or so, you will begin to realize that all is actually well and you have survived. Work and all the troubles of the world will still plague you, no doubt, but the divorce will not be a source of ache anymore. And you might find new love. It's true.
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