Some days as I walk from my office, through the courtyard, over to the hospital, with people in scrubs and other uniforms walking or visiting, I look around and think, "I am a hospital chaplain! I work in a hospital setting! I am exactly where I should be, doing exactly what I want to be doing."
And I can be so surprised by this thought that I have to stop, "pinch myself," before taking another step. I am living in constant gratitude that I am practicing my life's purpose. It's been a long road, but every step along that road was also marked by "pinching myself" moments.
Just now, sitting down at my computer to document my visits, I had such a moment. And I am determined to cling to these, voice my gratitude, and when my days are hectic and crazy and patient filled, be ever present for my patients and ever grateful for my abilities.
Several years ago my son-in-law was in a terrible accident that left him in the hospital for two months. This was life-threatening, and while I won't go into details here, he is alive and thriving.
His healthcare was amazing, providers wonderful. There was one therapist in the Burn Unit who took a special interest in Jenna and Cliff, seeing them frequently, and giving them tips for maneuvering a new life. One of her most profound teachings was about boundaries.
Last week I was visiting with a palliative care patient's wife. She works full-time, takes care of a energetic teen, runs the household life, and cares for her demanding husband. She said, "I've been all-right - just trying to balance things." And she continues with, "And self-care, I'm walking, but everyone sees this as 'interrupt me time,' and I am pulled away from not only walking, but any type of thing I want to do for myself." She concluded with, "Well, except for going to the grocery store. No one wants to go grocery shopping with me. In fact, I've been a few times, not to buy anything, but just to get away."
My response to her was, "Balance and Boundaries are two of the most difficult characteristics to develop and sustain."
And I should know! Boundaries - I do pretty good at not letting others lives become my responsibility (that's caregiver survival here at the hospital), and I seldom have a problem saying, "no."
However, Balance, that's a whole other story, and I'm touching on that here.
Back to my SIL. This therapist was amazing, and if the only lesson I took home from supporting my daughter and her husband during this horrible time, is this, then I left the winner.
Ann G Cook, LCSW, at the University of Utah, had this to say about boundaries, when seeing something that you want/should/could/need/might be a part of, or be involved in, and yet you are fully aware that you shouldn't, Ann stated, "My husband and I have this saying, 'Not my barbecue.'" Then walk away, without guilt or grief or remorse. End of discussion, no looking back.
This phrase has been my go-to since that time, nearly 15 years ago. And I've heard several others that work similarly:
Not my ministry
I'm not on that committee
Not my circus, not my monkey
Not my pig, not my farm
I'm not accepting new assignments at this time
Oh, that's for another "Ronda"
I don't have a horse in that race
That's outside my wheelhouse.
I read a story in today's news about a man who looked out his window and saw four teenager boys pushing each other around and yelling. He left his house, went to the park, and attempted to break up the fight. This resulted in serious injury to him, and the arrest of 4 teens. Noble gesture, but what if, just what if he hadn't gotten involved? What if he said, "I don't have a horse in that race"?
My sweet husband hates injustice; this past month, while in Hawaii, there were three men in their 30s yelling at each other and pushing each other. My 73 year old husband wanted to go break up this fight! I hollered, "Scott, this is not your barbecue; stop."
I have a colleague who has been subtly bullied by another colleague - in my mind the worst on-the-job abuse that can happen. In fact, it's the same person I've written a wee bit about over the past couple of years. Well, another colleague felt the sting of her words this week, and has lost hours of sleep trying to make sense of the manipulation. Today we talked about emotional preservation and boundaries - not buying in to her words, allowing them to bounce off the boundary she/we have set.
Pick an above phrase, and make it your mantra!
These are heavy scenarios, yet "Not my barbecue" helps in my every day'ness. "Whose car is at Mom's?" Not my BBQ. "What are they thinking spending all that money on a ...?" Not my BBQ. "Damn guy cut me off." Not my BBQ. "Somebody should . . ." Not my BBQ. "I'm worried about . . . " Not my BBQ. You get it!
Often choosing to not own someone else's actions and behaviors is the best thing to do. Not having a horse in the race, not being on that committee, not a part of your ministry, can be so very freeing.
And with not owning, there is emotional and physical availability, that comes with stepping back, stepping aside, getting out of the way of someone else's story.
Thanks, Ann G Cook, for teaching me about barbecues!
Well, Scott and I were hit by the CoVid virus this past week. I had been exposed through a patient who tested positive just before he passed away. I think that was the initiator.
And YUCK! First for both of us, and of course, we do it together! I'm glad we had Hawaii together, so we were relaxed enough to not have freak-outs with us both being down.
Morning, I stepped out of my house to get into my car for work, and there was the most stunning sunrise - more beautiful than the remaining leaves on the trees around me. I walked between my office and the hospital, past the pond being drained as four ducks soaked in the remaining water, scraping the bottom for the best tidbits, decorative grasses and trees and the last of the flowers in full regalia, tables silent, with only a couple of people quietly visiting on the bench, and with a shadow of snow on Y mountain and Timp, golds and rusts and browns hanging on below, and a hint of weather in the air. I love November.
The Spring anticipation, the Summer filled with go, absorb, do, celebrate is gone. The month-long Pinktober and Halloween frenzy are over. The lovely last-minute vacation to Hawaii is over - and yet the primer for now as we settle into November - month filled with - nothing - but thanks, a time to pause, relax, cozy and warm-up, eat soup and the last of the tomatoes, prune the shrubs and pull the carrots and turnips, and be. Spending time in November is a luxury, a month that deserves its own space, with no other holidays pushing into it.
November says - be still and know. And what do I know during this month - I know how much I need pause, stop, still, rest.
Introverts - no entertaining, no celebrations, no big events, just being with those I love and relearning to love myself. My home is warm, the seasonal furniture and decor are snuggled in the shed. Exercise becomes gentle yoga, clothes are muted shades and comfortable, toe-nails left unpainted, food is gentler, warmer. This month suits me well.
And then this - gratitude! I adore Thanksgiving; perhaps my favorite holiday - for gathering, for reflection, a time to pause before. November is my month to count my blessings, to share my gratitude, to spend time giving thanks. This, I can do.
I'll look at sunrises and sunsets more, I'll snuggle more, I'll sit with silence more, I'll slow down.
A favorite song of mine is "We Gather Together" guides me, and Tony Elman's "Shaking Down the Acorns" is on constant play. And this - "For the Beauty of the Earth." Simple, warm, clean, basic messages that I live by along with music that speaks to my soul. Music I seldom play other times of the year; it is sacred, kinda like November. This month is for my soul.
My example is this - standing in a door frame with one foot in one room, the other foot in another room - which room are you in? Neither? Both?
These are all Liminal times - and during this time, we live in Liminality, or a liminal space. This is a time out of time - when out-of-the-ordinary things take place and where we enter as one person and come out changed. Liminal times can't last forever, they are an intermission, a pause, a wait-for-it-time. Liminal times are also times of watching and waiting before making major decisions, or they are times of major decision-making - where transformations happen.
As much as I need vacations, summer, breaks, I need routine, and liminality, although I strive for some sense of "normalcy" even when on vacation - meal routines, calling the vacation spot "home." And yet I do things out of the ordinary during this time - music, food, exercise, clothing, purchases (although I always purchase a piece of jewelry and an article of clothing, which makes the routine, kinda).
This has been my summer, and to a large degree, the past 2.5 years. With this explanation - I have craved routine while having no desire for routine. And most of the plans I had made for this summer have dissolved - absolutely no energy or desire to act on them. In many ways I've experienced liminal space in the middle of liminal space - deeper than I've ever been - a hole within a hole, and I've had a difficult time identifying any of this.
My other-daughter, Diana, said this: In life when we experience something that we've invested a lot of time, energy, we push through, and physically and mentally give it all that we have, and often that turns into just getting by or through, and then when that time is over, we are physically and mentally and emotionally exhausted, without necessarily identifying any of this. And - sometimes, after a liminal time that's not terribly rewarding, we are stagnate, numb, and not terribly emotionally available - which can also be described as trauma and the after affects of this event.
And this is where I've found myself - at a loss for words, not wanting to even find words, isolating or preferring solitude over groups of people, needing time to process - which means time with my people/family who are processing similarly.
Yet, interestingly, I've had some time to make some changes, do some things that have been in the way back of my mind - the oddest things that have come to the front of my mind:
No more gel nails (been doing this for 7 years, and I'm over it)
Ingrown toenail fixed
Hearing aids
Financial planning and banking redo
TV on the deck
Sex
Self-enlightenment journey
Purchased e-bikes
Listening to live music
And of course - remodeling our home
I have the feeling this liminality is not finished, and I'm having to be ok with this - different than my cancer journey, yet nonetheless, I'm sitting with these emotions, this solitude, this quirky time when I'm functioning yet not-functioning. Owning my story, but not feeling the need to explain or justify. One foot in one room, the other foot in another room. Or better yet - standing in the threshold, with the opportunity/option to move between two worlds right now -
In the meantime - the clouds have been amazing this spring, summer, fall. And looking up is good!
