Learning to Sit Alone With Feelings
Now you can listen to the author read her story
of learning to sit with feelings
<
Sitting Alone
My nose twitched at the familiar smell of sliced turkey and instant mashed potatoes which lay untouched on the tray before me.
I was sitting alone on my 60th birthday in a wheelchair on the 4th floor of a busy rehab hospital 500miles away from home.
Not even a simple cupcake with a candle to mark a life that had been full and fruitful — until now.
Although I had never cared one way or the other as birthdays passed, somehow turning sixty seemed pivotal.
It was the year I retired because of my changing health, and, once I left the rehab hospital I would be moving back to my hometown to begin life again.
My journey had taken a u-turn and I had no assurance it wouldn’t end at a brick wall. But on this pivotal day, I was more alone than I had ever felt.
Not one cupcake or candle marked my detour at sixty.
I had made a detour sparked by a condition called minimal cognitive impairment. A type of cognitive loss more commonly known as brain fog. I would no longer continue in a career I loved. A career in which I visited many people who sat as I did— alone, confused, and unable to remember why.
I sat and smelled the cooling meal — and got real good at learning to sit. Alone.
What was the Purpose?
The next time I sat was in an older mobile home at the end of a dirt road. Would this be the end of the road for me?
I often wondered if this was what growing old would be like. Except that I wasn’t exactly old. I had only turned sixty. But I walked with a walker. I used a magnifying glass for what little reading I did. And I lived with sticky notes to remind me of simple things like locking the door and paying bills.
I took up meditation because I thought that I might still have a purpose if I could do nothing else but sit. No matter what I was losing, I needed so much to hang on to the belief that my life, such as it was, had a reason for being.
I was unaware when the sun shone because my insides had become dark with despair. It could have been 60 years. It felt like 98.
One day, staring into space with unfocused eyes and a weariness unrelieved by rest, I heard words from my childhood echo through my mind…” Though you walk through the valley of the shadow —the Shadow?
WAIT!
I suddenly realized you cannot have a shadow without light. Let me say that again. You cannot have a shadow if there isn’t light. Somewhere.
Life Pivots from Darkness to Light
My life pivoted at that moment. Everything changed! I had been thinking that the darkness in my spirit was total and irreversible. I thought I had no alternative but to sit. Alone. In the dark.
It wasn’t until that moment that I began to look for the light. That light came with a shift in mindset.
I had been told all the reasons for my cognitive and mobility losses and that nothing could be done. And then I met new thinkers and practitioners who taught me that isn’t necessarily so.
I had a shift in mindset, entertaining the idea that what I thought was a brick wall was indeed just another mountain. I was determined to climb it.
Slowly, I began to understand that my brain could change—a concept called neuroplasticity – – and at that moment, sitting alone in the dark my life began again.
Continuing to Sit
I continued to sit, but now it was in meditation. I sat in wonder and with hope.
Today, I bow in gratitude for the gift of therapists and teachers who worked on my restoration project.
I learned to accommodate for that which would never improve, and I learned to stretch my brain to create new pathways and skills.
Do I forget things? Of course. We all do.
But I will not forget the loneliness of an unseen birthday, the fear of growing old and incapacitated and useless.
I will not forget the journey, for the journey is what inspires me to write and encourage others who are headed for u-turns not to fear, how to climb mountains, and how to sit.
In the 14 years since my forgotten birthday in which I became officially eligible for senior discounts, my journey has taken me through many mountains and valleys with naturopaths, physical and psychological therapists, meditation gurus, and spiritual practices.
I walked miles, 30 feet at a time forward and backward in my tiny trailer.
I practiced sudoku and wrote poems. My bookshelves groan with teaching ranging from mystics to entrepreneurs.
My many years as a hospice nurse, pastor, and chaplain taught me to minister to myself.
Today I find myself writing on my blog about the meaning and purpose of life as we age. And my passion is to share with older adults my vision that aging is eminently doable with the right mindset.
A mindset of possibility and hope. A lesson that began by learning to sit.
Still Sitting and Loving It
Today, I continue to sit.
Every morning before dawn I sink into my favorite leather chair, inhale the purity of the morning air, and allow a smile to creep across my face.
The darkness has become iconic of a holy place for me. I sit in stillness and listen to a silence broken only by the heartbeat of my Seth Thomas clock. I hold my sleeping neighbors in my heart and wait in awe for the sun to rise.
For with the light of the sun I will fear no evil, even though I continue to walk in shadows of the unknown.
Picking up my journal I write three things I am grateful for.
Only three, because without some boundaries I would never get anything else done.
When old age does come it will find me sitting. Alone or in community. It no longer matters. I have found my purpose in sitting. — to point out the rising sun to others sitting in the dark.
