Skip to main content

It's a Brutiful Life...

I recently acknowledged my one year "back-to-work-iversary" after two years off after a deep dive into depression and anxiety--hospital stays--support groups, medication and therapy.  To borrow a word from Glennon Doyle Melton, it is Brutiful.  

It is Beautiful.  Tender, raw and vulnerable, falling forward into blinding fear and self-love --where everyone is doing the best that they can---really.  Undone by the spectre of judgement and perfectionism no more.

Brutal.  Tender, raw and vulnerable, falling backward into blinding fear and self-doubt -- where everyone is doing the best that they can? ---really?  Undone by the spectre of judgement and perfectionism! No more....

It is the flip side of the same coin and each day is a new toss.

I have been favoured with more Beautiful than Brutal.  

Life is Brutiful

But...

Brutal stalks my peripheral, winking, as I cast a furtive glance over my shoulder, my feet pounding the ground of what feels more and more like a treadmill to nowhere.  

Each day I face Brutal...head on and come out bruised and battered, my focus turns to the race, to avoiding a misstep as I navigate familiar old terrain that I had hoped was far behind me.  And Beautiful, that surrounds me, is lost to paranoia as I dare not falter in my mad dash to stay afoot.

To be sucked under again is terrifying.  Even knowing, as I do, that the strength and power are within me to rise again....I lower my head, lean in and double my efforts, feeling Brutal's stench so close in pursuit.

And then it happens...

It is brutal's day and you go down.




And you have no words.
You are exhausted.

And you feel like all that you have done is nothing.  You can't get to nowhere, you are already there.  You are nowhere and no one.  

But the secret is, that Beautiful is all around you.  But your eyes are closed to it and it's ok to give in to that BRUTAL day.  It's ok to have let Brutal win.

Because life is Brutiful.  Life can only be Beautiful if it is Brutal. and life can only be Brutal if it is likewise Beautiful.  

So today, I am grateful for Brutal.  

I will embrace brutal and let it wash over me.  I will lean into it and accept today I have fallen and am beat up and can see nothing besides darkness.  

Because so far, in my whole life, I have seen that light ALWAYS follows darkness.  Each having its time.  One for rest and one for growth.  One to shine and one to reflect.  

And like the ebb and flow, my life follows.  

I am...a Work in Progress.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Shame is A Full-Contact Emotion (Brené Brown)

It is a cool outside this morning and I have on my fluffy red robe as I sit outside and watch the birds flit back and forth from the fence to the feeder----arrogantly tossing aside imperfect sunflower seeds to get to the good ones.   The discarded seeds, some empty, some full, punctuate my deck, waiting for the squirrels, who will later claim this easy buffet. I am still reading Brené and The Gifts of Imperfection. Feels a bit like learning a new language ---I see the words---I hear the words---but the meaning is so diffuse...I need to read and reread and sometimes, even read out loud to make the words stick It is hard work.    And while the smooth cover of her book lies balanced on my palm, seemingly weightless, many of the concepts have a density that knocks me flat on my ass ---like a large medicine ball. CATCH THIS ONE!   Oooooooof!   I am down.    Eyes wide, trying to catch my breath, wrestling with the weight of hefty concepts like shame, authenticity, wholeh

Getting to Know My Neighbor in Type B

As a self identified "Type A" behavior "enthusiast", getting to know my neighbor in "Type B" might help me get a handle on why I too often feel like I am banging my head against a wall at work.    But before I get too far, after all, there are a bazillion "self assessment" tests out there from, " What potato chip flavor are you ?" to " Which Prince outfit are you ?" In the 1950's, two cardiologists, Friedman and Rosenman used Type A and Type B as a way to describe behavioral responses associated with how male patients with heard conditions responded to stress in their waiting room.    They observed that some of the men actually wore down the edges of the seats from sitting poised on the edges of the seat and jumping up frequently, (labelled Type A) while others were able to relax in their seats and the wear on the chairs was focused more evenly (labelled Type B).   They went on to invest

Dr. Dr.

When we moved to Brampton I needed to find a family doctor---at 37--not married--two weeks into a new job in a different city--sleeping on an air mattress on the floor while my partner and son were wrapping things up in our London condo where they were still living---I found myself pregant . I went online and found a website that provided the names of doctors in various parts of Ontario who were accepting patients.  Of the few names listed I was immediately attracted to one.  Dr. Patricia Francis--a woman --who had studied in Ireland.  This to me was a sign. I am of Irish background and if you know Brampton at all you will know that finding her seems like a bit of the luck o' the Irish.  I was escorted into a room where a lovely coffee skinned, well dressed woman with a gorgeous South African accent I couldn't place asked the reason for my visit.  I told her I needed to speak to the doctor about a bit of a crisis.  Her eyes popped open as she sat down putting one hand on m