A Word or Two on Surrendering; Story on Surrendering

There are times when dealing with our health concerns that surrendering comes into the picture and becomes a quality that would serve us well to cultivate. When we are waiting for our test results from the laboratory or wake up with a migraine on a day we planned to get a lot done, we learn to give up control and let go. We have learned from the past that pushing ourselves in this state only increases our pain and that worrying about the outcome of our test results only causes us more distress. Often, excruciating symptoms can bring us to our knees and give us no choice but to relinquish control and surrender.

The act of surrendering is a humbling one. We are reminded that something bigger than ourselves is holding the reins and that by recognizing this, we find a way to allow our life to unfold, instead of forcing our will onto it. Twelve-step programs have developed the slogan “Let go and let God” and turning it over to a higher power greater than oneself, when we end up getting too much in our own way to do us any good. For those uncomfortable with the word “God”, they can exchange it with the concept that we are not always completely in charge of our circumstances and may have to put into place a different way of handling our present challenges, than worry and agitation.

The act of surrendering doesn’t mean we roll over and give up and do nothing. It means we allow energy to move through us and not manipulate it, thereby allowing The Great Mystery to unfold and leaving room for spirit to come into our life. When we become open like this, our intuition can be tapped, new solutions can come to us or just the understanding that for now, maybe all we need to “do”, is rest or putter around in the garden that day or get some support from a friend.

Numerology Guidance Cards by Michelle Buchanan
Surrender

Surrendering control may be something we have to do over and over again, if we are particularly anxious; like waiting for those test results. Surrendering takes practice like any other spiritual discipline and we may need constant reminders. We may notice that the way we are going about finding an answer to resolve our health issue has become too obsessive, i.e., going from one practitioner to the next without taking time to reflect on why this might be happening in the first place. It may be better for us in this case, to slow down a little and recognize that underneath this behavior is fear, and we might be better off to explore that fear and see what that has to teach us, rather than go about our health care in a frantic, grasping way. When fear rises again and again, surrendering can become the anecdote that calms us down.

 

Story on Surrendering

When I was in my twenties, I lived communally on land, with a small group, during the 70’s. I loved living there at the time, but for various reasons, the community was breaking up and individuals were moving on. I was unhappy with this idea, but I had no choice but to move on, too. I realized I relied on the others to be there in case of a seizure, but who could I rely on now? On top of that, with the stress of the dissolvement of the group and the stimulation that came from living communally, I had had a few seizures and came to the conclusion that I couldn’t take care of myself. Appallingly, it seemed to me, my only option was to pack up all my things and go stay with my parents – the very people whose way of living I felt estranged from and who I felt lived the opposite to what we had been trying to create on land, where I had been living. Not only that, but I needed help packing and couldn’t fly on my own – my mother had to come and get me! For a young woman out in the world on her own, developing new ideologies with others that branched away from the norm (with a lot of judgement towards others, I might add), this was beyond humiliating!

Once at my parents’ house, it took months for me to fully recover. Not only did I have to put aside my youthful ideals, but I had to let go of the elemental independent way of living we all usually take for granted. Most of the time, I couldn’t prepare meals for myself; my mother did. I couldn’t drive, so I had to rely on my father to get anywhere. Some part of me knew I was fortunate; that I had loving parents who could take me in, but my false pride wouldn’t allow a full appreciation of this fact. I chafed against their ways that I perceived as outdated and steeped in sexism, but felt I had to keep my mouth closed, because I was reliant on them for my basic needs. At times, I resented this, making it easy to resent them.

Although I wasn’t very good at it, I was forced to surrender. I had to put aside my beliefs and my prized independence in order to get my needs taken care of. I felt ashamed and humiliated to be in this position, and because of this, couldn’t fully give in to the feeling of surrendering, which made everything that much harder.

More than twenty years later, things have changed a great deal. I am more apt to be honest with myself about my limitations and needs, although, there often seems a layer of resistance before I let go and accept my circumstances. I no longer carry around the arrogance I used to have in my twenties that made me feel I was somehow more evolved than others. Having had to, time and time again, ask for help over the years, has led me to replace humiliation with humility and a letting in of others in my life I may not have otherwise, which expands my spiritual path that much more. When we only let in those who have the same ideology and lifestyle as ours, we develop a narrow way of being and living. I believe I have a  more developed sense of gratitude in general, because of having to let others in, by way of caregiving for me. All this I’ve gotten from the gift and act of surrendering.

 

Citations:

Buchanan, M., Numerology Guidance Cards. https://www.michellebuchanan.co.nz/numerology-oracle-cards/

Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation. Letting go of our need for control frees us. https://www.hazelden.org/web/public/hff11022.page

 

 

 

 

Cari

Cari Looking to the Right (2)

I walk into Cari’s room. The lights

are dim and the TV is on. When she looks

up at me from her recliner, I notice she is

squinting.

“Oh. Migraine”, I say, keeping my

words to a minimum.

She sighs. “Yup”.

“Again”.

“Yup”.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be quick. I want to let you know a caregiver won’t be coming today, after all”.

“Oh. Who was on”?

“Liza”, I say.

And then I quietly leave the room, closing

the door gently behind me.

As I return to the living room, I reflect on our relationship. Cari and I met through a mutual friend. I had heard she had epilepsy, too, and I really wanted to know how she managed.

I had a lot of compassionate friends, but I knew it would be different if I met someone who dealt with the same issues that I did. I wanted to know: how did she cope? Did she have seizures often? What kind? Did she take meds? Were they under control?

We eventually got together and shared information, and shortly thereafter, became friends. The friendship turned into attraction and we fell in love. A year later, we exchanged vows in a wedding ceremony in our front yard.

When I knew we were falling in love, when I knew this was a relationship I wanted to pursue, I realized at some point we would need help (I had learned in the first few months of knowing her that she had other health challenges, including debilitating migraines, chronic sinusitis, and what eventually culminated in arthritis throughout her body, due to past injuries and years of playing sports. On top of that, she occasionally walked in her sleep!). At first, this help came from friends who were willing to step in when we were both down for the count, mostly to do needed errands. But I knew as we aged, we would need more assistance.

Evening is my favorite time of day, because it means that Cari will come out of her den and we’ll watch TV together for a couple of hours before the caregiver shows up for the night. One of our cats (Reggie) curls up between us as we watch our favorite programs. It’s family time for us.

I love this ritual. We may not talk much, but that doesn’t matter; her presence is really all I need. She gives me something that no one else can, because she understands what it is like to live with chronic conditions and because some of those conditions overlap.

Over the past 25 years, we have seen each other through seizures, pain, emotional ups and downs, struggles with doctors, changes in medications and even menopause. We have figured it out. We get each other. And that gives me incredible comfort, and that is what has kept us together.

There are times, though, when one of us becomes insecure and wonders: Am I too much for her?

Here’s my response when it’s she that feels this way:

 

My Rock

 

You are my rock

not my hard place.

I lean back on your

solid stone so I can

feel the sun on my

face and the breeze

on my skin.

You are an artist.

You take the pieces of me

that are broken

– shattered shards –

and make them into

stained glass

the light singing through

all of the colors

not leaving even one of them out.

Cari and Maluma Peaceful (2)