Sitting In the Muck

We are only a few months into the new year, and it’s already kicking my butt. How about yours?

I spent the first few weeks of the year setting intentions, reflecting on what I’d like to change in the new year, reprioritizing, and figuring out how to focus on all the things that matter most to me. Lots of thoughts, intentions, and plans…

And then life hit. And hit again and again with medical situations not only for Miles but unexpected medical news for other family members and a slew of other unforeseen fire drills.

So instead of doing more yoga, reading more books, and spending more time with people I love, I’ve basically just been running through my halls with my hands up, screaming like the house is on fire.

Kidding, but that’s what it feels like some days.

Researching, making appointments, going to more therapies, getting second opinions, more researching, more appointments, juggle, juggle, juggle while all the well-made plans go by the wayside.

So much planning is required in our lives for the symphony of our carefully orchestrated schedules to play out. But then, so much of our time is spent undoing and letting go of those carefully planned schedules because something else arises to throw it all off course.

Rare life requires both the planning and unplanning of our lives. Seems unfair to have to master both. But that’s the job.  

This is rare mama life.

We get one area of our child’s health sorted out, and before we lay our weary heads down to rest after that fire drill, we are onto the next. We are constantly seeking information, answers, and protocols and figuring out how to handle situations, next steps, and courses of action.

And what about when things aren’t figureoutable?  What about when there aren’t any next steps, or when we don’t like what the next steps are?

We press on, worried, tired, and unsettled. And sometimes, we have to sit in those feelings because we can’t change the present state. Often, we have to sit in the muck until the rain stops because we don’t have an umbrella, and we certainly can’t control the rain.

I hate the muck. It wasn’t what I had planned. It doesn’t seem to suit the life I’m trying to live or benefit my family or me.  

Or does it?

Sometimes, it’s in the muck where you get perspective. But it’s uncomfortable here. I don’t like the feeling of not knowing what to do. I’m vulnerable here. I want answers, I want change, and I want to problem-solve.
I’m my kid’s mom, aren’t I supposed to have answers, and aren’t I supposed to keep us clean and dry?

Often, it’s in this muck–this place of not knowing, stalled plans, or forced un-planning, that we can reconsider the question. Therefore, we can rethink our response. We are challenged to get creative. We are made to see with new eyes. Maybe we’re pressed to reach elsewhere for answers. Perhaps we’re pushed to strategize differently. Or talk to other people outside the ones we usually do.

Actually, that seems like exactly how to make decisions when they are challenging to make. As a former strategic planner by profession, I know this. But that’s a little easier to remember when dealing with business, marketing, and media strategies versus your child’s wretched rare disease symptoms and ailments.

When plans come undone, things go awry, and answers seem elusive, this isn’t the time to RUSH! Quick decisions aren’t always the best answers in complex scenarios. Yes, they will lessen the uncomfortable feelings, but they won’t necessarily lead to the best outcomes.

Typically we don’t change when we see the light; we change when we feel the heat. Pain guides and directs us and turns us in a new direction.

So while I don’t like all this uncomfortable, unplanning, and muck-sitting, since I’m forced with no other choice, perhaps I’ll consider what I can find in the muck instead?

Maybe that’s the better question to ask. Perhaps that’s a better use of this time. What opportunity for change does this create? What would that even look like?

Maybe I have to sit still enough to listen for the answers. Or stay open enough to think creatively. Or maybe it’s when I’m stripped of all my laid plans that I can truly see another way.

I still hope to do more yoga, read more books, spend more time with loved ones, and have clear direction on how to proceed with all the medical decisions before us, but I’ll look around for what else I may discover while sitting in the muck, so that when the rain stops and I dry off, I am more open to new directions.