Lost and Found

In November, I lost my wedding and engagement rings. I love my rings, but I don’t wear them all the time. Only when I’m going out do I really put on any jewelry. I opened the dryer one day and found my engagement ring lying under the jeans. I didn’t even realize it had been lost. Suddenly I recalled that the night before when I was putting lotion on Sloane, I slipped the rings off and put them in my pocket. Then I forgot all about them. So tumble-dried engagement ring – here. Where’s the wedding ring? I searched the dryer, shaking each of the jeans that inhabited it.  Nothing.

The entire family tore the house apart looking for that wedding ring.  We searched through every pocket of every pair of pants. Unloaded every laundry basket and hamper. Inspected the inner workings of the washing machine and dryer and pulled them back from the wall. We moved every piece of furniture, looked under every cushion on every couch and chair. But, nothing. It was gone. Lost.

At least I had my engagement ring, which felt oddly incomplete in its weight, its movement, the way it caught on my finger.  I was melancholy and anxious for days…as much about the insanity of knowing that something was gone, but not understanding how it could be so – “where could it be?!!” – as about the actual loss of the ring.  My rings are insured, so I knew I could replace it. Still, some things can’t be replaced. 

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I’d been in a funk for at least a few weeks. I had begun to realize that I’d spent the past several months pretending to “be.” In truth, I’d avoided facing into the void of discovering a self without all of the trappings of the roles that had defined me. I did this by “being” with people every day.  I had calls and video chats with friends and colleagues in my field that were scheduled out for weeks.  I had begun to realize I didn’t have any open space.  My calendar was booked. 

One day I received two invitations to connect…one in person, the other by phone.  And, very strongly I realized that I didn’t want to connect. It wasn’t these individuals that I was averse to.  It was that I wanted to do what I wanted to do. Suddenly, what I wanted to do was to work on me. To turn inward. To tap into the experiences that filled me up within myself…not out there. 

And, the way this showed up was in me behaving like a petulant toddler.  [insert whiney kid voice] “I don’t want to do that!  I want to do what I want to do!” I had created this reality myself, had basked in the warmth of it, and now I was acting like a pill (as my mom would say).

I felt bad about it. How can I possibly tell people that I don’t have time for them? Clearly, this was another edge for me. A longing not to disappoint or offend people. Pushing up against a longing to be true to myself. I shared how I was feeling with a few close friends.  David said, “don’t you think this is the next step in your discovering the stranger you are becoming?”  Hmmm.  Maybe.  There was a crack of light.  Later, Shakiyla said, “I’m glad to see you doing this.  You are choosing you. Claiming you.  It’s not like you’re not gracious when you say no.” (She had witnessed me saying no on a broader scale to other invitations in the prior months.)  “You’re just becoming clear about what this journey is about for you.” More light shone from the choice to honor myself and my path. To choose me.  And, an affirmation that choosing me didn’t look like rejecting others. Acceptance. Acceptance of who I was even in what I viewed as my smallness. Perhaps I wasn’t so small, after all.

Prompted by David’s insightful question and Shakiyla’s embrace, I began to realize that these outward-facing connections had been a diversion from me being in my own company. Being with others allowed me to avoid sitting in the discomfort of discovering a self, an inner knowing that I had skillfully staved off for decades.  Suddenly, I felt a strong desire to come to know who I am at my core. To face into what had been covered over by others…what I had hidden myself. The part of me that had been lost.

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One day, I was about to join a video chat with two beloveds with whom I have shared the process of discovering the stranger we are each becoming.  I opened the dryer door and laying on top of my son’s clothes sparkling back at me was my wedding ring.  Two weeks and at least twenty loads of laundry later.  Just as I was finding myself anew, I found my ring.

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Speaking of lost, I lost my shit again this past weekend.  I was cleaning the house. Everyone else in the family had completed their cleaning duties – the cleaning duties we each had before life went topsy-turvy.  The allocation of these duties was made before the four human occupants of this house became full-time squatters.  Before I had taken on my full-time job as a homeschool teacher.  Yet, the distribution of chores was the same. I was still working on mine. I felt the resentment welling up inside me as I listed in my head the chores that remained, and calculated the dwindling hours of my weekend before launching into the Groundhog Days of the work/school week again. 

Every room I entered to clean contained messes that were supposed to have been picked up by the children…so I could clean.  Then, I discovered that the jobs that they had “completed” had not been completed to my standards. As in, when you clean the bathroom, that also means actually cleaning the toilet. 

It was a downhill spiral of my capacities over the course of about 20 minutes, with me becoming more and more angry, more and more punitive.  Sonnie said I was being a bully. Finally, I yelled, “I quit. You do it.” I threw the soapy sponge into the tub, stomped into my room, and slammed the door behind me.  Grown-ass woman meltdown #2, in case you’re counting.

Several hours later, after a shower, a virtual happy hour with girlfriends, and sneaking into the dining room to work on a puzzle alone, I felt better. But, what I came to realize during that time, was that what I was upset about was – yes, the shoddy job on the minimal chores that my children are tasked with… But, really what this was about for me was acknowledging loss. 

I had finally sunk into the discovery of me.  It took me a good four months to get there, but finally I felt in flow. I was coming to know me. To find joy in me without the external trappings of role to tell me that I am worthy. To listen to what my heart desires and to act on those things.  But, that had been stripped away.  Lost. This opportunity to be was a one-time gift with a limited timeframe.  I was witnessing both slipping like sand through my fingers. I hadn’t, yet, acknowledged it as such.

Yesterday, I saw a friend at the grocery store. We stood with our carts serving as the 6-foot barrier between us. She was shopping for multiple households. Her father-in-law is a transplant recipient. A simple shopping expedition like this in the time of Coronavirus would literally be the death of him. We shared the travails of homeschooling, of lost work, of lost opportunity and experiences in our own lives. And, then she said “Who I am most sad for is my in-laws. They had four international trips planned that they’ve now had to cancel. He’s 72.” The gift of time slipping like sand through their fingers.  A longed for capping of their life-stories in the form of adventure and memories-anticipated.  Loss.

Later in the day, I spoke with my 93-year-old friend, Alex (94 in four days!). Alex is a sharp, witty, determined man. He began pursuing his Ph.D. when he was in his late 70’s. He’s still in the midst of studying presidential pardons for his dissertation…a dissertation he is determined to complete. Speaking from his home in which he lives alone, Alex said joking/not joking, “I’m like red meat for this Coronavirus.”  Loss.

We are experiencing incredible loss, day-by-day, week-by-week, individually…collectively.  So often, our experience of this loss manifests in fallback, as our options and capacities to bring our Best Selves slip like sands through our fingers.  I believe strongly that there is a gift in fallback. It points us to what we most value, what we hold dear. When we can access that, perhaps what is lost, can be found.  Likely not in its original form.  Some things cannot be replaced. But, what other things might we discover as we search?

I was assigned a job I never wanted and one I’m not so sure I’m good at – homeschool teacher – one that consumes my days and saps me of energy. In some ways, now is the perfect time for this to happen.  Had I still been working, I would be teaching graduate students online full-time. AND, I would have had the added homeschooling-a-kindergartener-and-fourth-grader.  When the opportunity to share my research, practice and lived experience of fallback came, I would have had to say no.  I would not have been able to “meet this moment.” I certainly would not have been able to do so from a place of understanding me; a place of being willing to put the fullness of me into the universe in a way that feels real and true.

Found. Found voice. Found spirit. Found Self. And, found self.  What a beautiful opportunity to embrace the fullness of me.  To encounter the small self, so pronounce-dly. To be called by me, by you, to observe it, to confess it, to learn and grow from it. This, too, is me.