the fog of confusion
i was driving home from a friend’s house, a week after arriving in michigan, when the tears began to fall. as they dripped down my cheeks, i realized they were not the occasional tears of grief, but tears of exhaustion.
this was not the exhaustion that comes from a spontaneous decision to pack up my life and move 2000 miles away. in three weeks.
no.
this exhaustion ran much deeper.
in that moment, i realized that i felt completely and totally responsible for myself.
not in the way you might think – because i am responsible for myself – but in a way where i felt absolutely alone in the world, a world in which there was no one i could turn to for anything.
and i realized that i was completely and utterly exhausted.
another day. another story.
it was a chilly michigan afternoon and my car wouldn’t start. i tried and tried to start it, but nothing happened. i know absolutely nothing about cars; when something is wrong with my car, i feel a sense of panic, completely and utterly helpless.
i was at my parents’ house, and my dad was home, so i went inside and told him that my car wouldn’t start. my dad came outside with me, got the car started, told me what happened and how to start it myself if it happened again, and went back inside.
i got in the car, put my hands on the wheel, and realized that i was crying.
right now, i am working on my relationship with abundance, with money, and i keep coming back to these stories.
i don’t even want to write about this. i am so full of confusion that i don’t know what to write. and yet i still feel compelled to do so.
maybe i am waiting for the perfect words, for the right words. to be the person who is on the other side of this, not the person who is lost and confused and in it.
i don’t know how to give up this sense that i have to do everything on my own, that i have no one to rely on but me.
intellectually, i know this isn’t true.
i can ask people for help and support.
i can ask the universe for help and support.
sometimes, rarely, i ask the universe for help. but the truth is, unless i am at my wit’s end, and just can’t see where to go from there, i don’t really mean it. (and i am hardly ever there.)
rarely, almost never, i ask a person for help. but oh, it is so hard for me: to ask for help, to receive help. even when i really need it.
how on earth is asking for help related to my relationship with money?
quite honestly, i have absolutely no idea.
when i look at my relationship with money, i find things like: “i am smart, not creative, so i can bring in money using my smartness but not my creativity.” or this: “i don’t know what i really want, and so i can’t create it.” or this: “i don’t deserve it, so i can’t receive it unless i pay for it in pain and suffering, and i’ve done so much work on my stuff that i can’t force myself to suffer anymore.”
and yet, i keep coming back to these stories.
well, there was a tiny clue related to receiving.
apparently i cannot receive.
unless i give and give and give.
but really, even if i give and give and give, i can’t receive, because the giving is just payment for whatever is on the other side of the scale to be on the scale at all.
if i somehow manage to let something in, to receive, i have to pay for it, because i didn’t deserve to receive it in the first place.
intellectually, i can see that none of this is true. i also sense that the clue about receiving is a small clue, not a large clue, and in fact it is something that has already shifted.
and yet, i am still in this place of confusion, and it is immensely frustrating to me.
i am not in resistance. i know how to look at my stuff. i am willing to look at my stuff. i like looking at my stuff. i am not afraid of what might come up in the process.
i feel like i am in a fog and i am waiting for it to lift and there will be a glorious sunrise on the other side. only i don’t know what to do to get there.
except. oh. i just now realized that i am in resistance.
i am resisting this place, this place where i am, this place of confusion.
i am here, and maybe this is a right place to be.
even if i can’t see it.
even if i don’t like it.
In a lot of ways we are alone in the world, and have much to do and figure out on our own. But thankfully, often, we are not completely alone. There’s family, friends, even acquaintances we can ask for help, when help is needed. ;o) I believe two things. I believe we are all here to love each other. And that we are here to help eacher in this life as best we can. So in many ways, we’re all in this together. :o) I’m a give until I drop kind of person, too… So I can very much relate to the tears and heavy feelings you so heart-fully relate, Elizabeth. Sometimes we have to blend our belief of doing it all, and doing it alone and reach out for help. I think sometimes too, that our modern society seems to create a belief that we have to do it all, and do it all as much as we can. Especially where money matters concern, and so much seems to be about accumulating material wealth, etc. We all have gifts to give. A greater giving and receiving… That we all open more to the gift that can be receiving–that can be a big one. This chapter you are in, you are very brave to share it here, Elizabeth. We are with you. You are not alone. And you do deserve all the best. :o) ((HUGS))
It is such a dichotomy: we are completely alone, and also, we are not alone at all. It also occurs to me that this is all such a lovely practice in vulnerability, and receiving, and trust, and worth, and generosity (the generosity of both giving and receiving). Since the thing I forget often is that sometimes the best gift you can give someone is to let them in, and allow them to support you (and support comes in so many forms) and that giving from our fullness feels so much richer.
A heart-felt sigh for everything you shared. Your words always land in my heart, and remind me of love and soul and comfort.
I’m thinking of you. Just wanted you to know. I am thinking of you.
I just felt your thoughts fly through my window like a blessing.
p.s. I hope this school year is going well!
I lurk here, but don’t usually comment, but I felt the pull too with this one.
I too feel this way. As a single parent, there is much I find that comes my way that I don’t know how to do, things around the house, car issues etc and I feel so guilty when I have to ask someone (finally after neglecting it for awhile out of fear of asking) to help me. I feel like I am always asking for help, not monetary, I am just squeezing by there but with help with my children, my home, etc. I feel like at 41 I should be standing on my own a bit more.
The funny thing is when my Dad was running my daughter back and forth to a library program for me I told him I was so sorry I had to ask him to do these things and he looked at me like I was crazy and said why wouldn’t he?
It’s a tough thing isn’t it balancing independence and the need for help? I think we need to be scared of it less and I think we need to remind ourselves of the things we are doing for ourselves.
The truth is you are not alone, we are all struggling with the same things whatever stage we are in.
Be kind to yourself as you are lost in this confusion, I hope a clear way appears to you soon. In time I am sure it will come….for us both.
Oh my goodness. Yes, yes, yes. I resonate so much with this. Thank you for sharing your story.
The thing you reminded me of is how, in Steven Covey’s 7 Habits class, you move from independence to interdependence. At the time, I thought that was odd. Why on earth would interdependence be better? Wasn’t it better to rely solely on yourself? Except the truth is that we all need help sometimes, and we really do need other people.
Wishing us both peace on the way to clarity.
Elizabeth-
Thank you for posting this. It resonates with me in many ways. Especially this: “if i somehow manage to let something in, to receive, i have to pay for it, because i didn’t deserve to receive it in the first place.” sounds remarkably like my reaction to receiving. When it comes to money specifically, I have a very “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship. As long as I’m happy bringing in enough to cover my expenses, money and I don’t need to talk.
In the past month, though, the universe has been sending me not-very-subtle messages that the balance was unequal; that I needed to focus on things that nourish me and cut back on the things that don’t. I resumed talking to the earth (grounding) and the water (cleansing/reconciliation) and take an invisible friend (spirit of the mountain) on walks. These things helped me find the words to break up with a client, a circle, and have a couple other uncomfortable conversations that needed to happen. And the fog has started to lighten a bit. But still, receiving is complicated. I hope that my work on restoring the balance will reveal some more clues about my resistance/acceptance to receiving, perhaps even more than enough money.
Thank you again for sharing yourself so openly. It always helps me to know that I’m not alone – and I hope you also know you are not the only one. You are one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.
Sending warmest thoughts and virtual hugs,
Casey
This is so beautifully inspiring to me. Both what you are doing (and un-doing) to nourish yourself, and that you heard the messages and were able to listen.
I am reminded of Sacramento, and how what we can see in others what is present in our own self.
Thinking of you as you watch the fog lift, and wishing you ease & plenty.
Oh, my dear. I have not been a good blog reader and I feel like not a very good friend. (That is a reflection on me, not you, lovely.) Yes. You can ask. You must.
Me? I’m surrounded by children and a husband, and I know loneliness too. I know the feeling where my well has run dry. I know the guilt of receiving. You are not alone.
Love you to the ends of the earth!
You know what I think of when I think of you? I remember two times in my life when I really needed someone to witness my confusion and pain. And I was able to reach out, because you are you. It was so healing.
You are not alone. And I love you back.