Simple to Complex + Back
The process and weight of aging can often feel complex- the shedding or adapting of your self to include new dynamics or ideas of who you are becoming or thought you would be. And yet, in some ways, the evolution and clarity of what is important and what your needs are become clear in a way that youth didn't allow–within the complexity lies simplicity.
As the Indigo Girls wrote “the hardest to learn was the least complicated.” What does evolution look like for you? What are the lessons that continue to come up as you evolve?
Written by Rebecca + Theresa
Rebecca: It is funny in life how lessons repeatedly present themselves. You think you have something figured out, but much like a virus, that “thing” changes form and returns to remind you that you are not as immune as you thought (or at least forces you to double down on the conclusion you came to last time around). My life lesson (and a hard one as a care provider, empathetic person, and recognized people-pleaser) is that it is NOT my job to fix anything or anyone. Everyone’s journey is their own and as much as I may want to support those in my life, whether personally or professionally, it is not in my control (or my right) to determine the outcome or the path taken. My first 10 years as an acupuncturist, I struggled with this… if I could only be better, do better, determine the perfect treatment protocol that all would be right in the world… that people would feel better, get pregnant, stay pregnant, and at the core of it, I have realized, like me.
Separating one’s desire to help others from the positive reinforcement that one gets when they do, is an interesting thing to sit with…as is the flip side of sitting in difficulty and sadness . I recently had a patient ask me if it was hard to be a holding space for the emotions that come with infertility and pregnancy loss. What I realized in my answer to her is that I have evolved in so many ways as a practitioner. First, I think that those who do this work cannot imagine not doing it, but it has been a 16+ year work in progress to set myself up in a way to do the work without it taking me down. I CAN hold with no longer taking in- they are not my feelings or my responsibility to take on, as much as I want amazing things for the women and couples I work with.
AND then just as soon as I thought I had that figured out, enters motherhood! And there they appear again… how can I BE BETTER, DO BETTER? I want the moms on the playground to like me!! Wait WHAT?? I thought we were good here. Remember–you have evolved. Deep breaths! My daughter is now 5+ and some days I get more negative feedback than positive (and from what I have heard that does not necessarily improve as they age)! While I felt capable of disconnecting from my patients emotions at the end of the day (in a way that I can continue to support them), I am still in the thick of trying to figure out how to find a balance as a mom. Her first year of life felt easier, for me, in part I think because I felt somewhat in control and that felt comfortable. BUT she turned one and her desire for independence caught me off-guard and it has felt like I am on an old familiar journey to the same outcome- I am not in control of her life. I am merely a space-holder and if I am lucky can offer guidance that will have a positive impact. BUT, I may never know that impact and have to be OK with that AND there may be people on our journey together who will not like me and that is OK too (just hoping it isn’t my daugher;) I do not have to be a better version of myself and that is progress.
Theresa: As a kid I felt comfortable in quiet spaces. There were long car rides and the moments before falling asleep where I could live happily in my head. I didn’t mind playing alone or going for walks around my neighborhood, just me and my Walkman. I enjoyed that solitude where it was just me and my inside voice.
There was a shift though. When I saw that the worst things could happen. Close to home - senseless, tragic death. Globally - unrest, starvation, and war. Suffering that I internalized with no outlet or means of processing. I accumulated grief. I buried it. I made my life loud and busy. I did fun things, met great people, and kept moving and creating. But I walked beside myself. I needed the fuel of coffee, alcohol, and external validation to animate me. With creeping awareness of this unbalance I tried a meditation class, and almost passed out. I said it was not for me. I tried yoga and threw my neck out. I said it was not for me. I got a gym membership which helped my strength and mental health but it was half-assed and did not expose my root system where I knew the work needed to be done. With declining health and growing self-awareness I dropped my high octane lifestyle and stopped moving. I took Reiki I, and completely fell apart. I said, This is for me. And I sat in it. I sat in it until I was empty.
What that day brought me back to was stillness. And all that rises up in the stillness. Everything ignored, buried, denied, or “reconciled “. Included in this were several realizations.
Control is an illusion. We build routines which give the impression of control. When that is challenged it can be upsetting and shake our confidence/reality. It is a constant challenge to our human nature to remember we contribute, nurture, invest, and create in our lives but we don’t ultimately control our lives or the lives of others.
Life can be tragic. It just can. And that’s okay. My helpless cycling won’t change anything. It’s okay for me to carry on and live my purpose.
It’s okay for my inside voice to be scared, uncertain, and sad. I still love her and know I’ll be okay.
I have choices. Choices of what to hang on to and what to let go of.
I believe we can approach life with an open heart. It’s protecting the solar plexus, the center of our Self, that needs honoring.
Caring for myself has become less aggressive in my 40s as compared to my 30s and 20s. Instead of the roller coaster of beating my body and mind into submission and then flat out ignoring it all I approach my care with curiosity and compassion. I wish I could impart some of this to my younger self.
My evolution has led me back to stillness. And it’s in stillness where we meet ourselves.