THE CONVERSATION

I have been struggling lately.

At first I thought I couldn't get a groove on. No big deal. It will come together in time.

Then I knew I was nowhere near a groove. A bigger deal but not panic inducing.

Then... not only is my groove in the next county but I have no idea what is going on in my life; I'm confused, ineffective, cranky and am losing myself at every turn. Panic is in the building and doing push ups.

What I don't get is that I really have nothing to complain about. All my basic needs are taken care of. My kid is so beautiful it takes my breath away. I have people to love and people that love me. My health and that of my family is pretty good. Everything is fundamentally well.

So - I tell all this to God. I unload everything. How I feel selfish to be feeling this way and I really ought not to be feeling this way but I do feel this way and... and...and... GOD WHAT DO I DO?! WHAT DO I CHANGE?!?

Sometime in the darkest part of the night I got the answer.

Learn to cook.

Me: WHAT?!?! HUH?!?! ARE YOU NUTS?!?! FOR REAL?!?!

Learn to cook and write. Do it every day. The answers will come.

Me: I don't want to learn how to cook! I don't like to cook! I want people to cook for me or buy food for me already prepared! I'm fat! I'm broke! My career has temporarily evaporated and I haven't worked in a year! My marriage broke up three years a go and I can't make it work and I can't let it go! I'm worried about my mom! And the answer is learn to cook?!?!? And write?!?!?


Yes.


Me: What about a job?!?!? I need a job?!?!?


Look for one. Hard. And while you are doing that - learn to cook. And write.

Me: My kid! How is learning to cook going to help him?!? I need to be there for him!!! I am a mother. I have responsibilities!!!!

Learning to cook is not going to hurt him. You being lost and no where near your heart WILL hurt him.
On and on the conversation goes.
The answers came quietly and firmly while my resistance, evading, arguing, and bargaining came full of self pity and immaturity. I fought the fight of a fifty year old toddler. The answers didn't need to fight because they had already established authority. They were obviously coming from way down deep in my heart or from something way bigger outside of myself. Or both. Probably both.
Now THAT intimidated me. Big time.
So I surrendered. Not gracefully or bravely or well intentioned or in any other good way. I surrendered like a loser and only because I couldn't win.
Fine. I will do what I can to cook and write every day.
Round one: Me - 0, The answers - 1.