Lessons in Pacing Oneself
It’s a lesson I seem to need to learn over and over again, through life. Each time, I seem to forget from previous lessons, until I’m being hit in the face with the proverbial two-by-four, and then I remember.
I can’t do it all. I can’t be the guy, the one every one turns to, all the time. I can’t carry it all on my shoulders. I need to, in the vernacular of the rooms I frequent, let go and let God. Trust the universe. Remember the serenity prayer — Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
The wisdom piece is important. Without it, I’ll be accepting things I can change, or trying to change things that I can’t. I more often fall into the latter category. Then, I pay a price. Today, I’m paying it. Vertigo is back on me.
I really got swept up in all the “saving Cowbird” business. It’s been hard to achieve the wisdom to know the difference, with that one. I’d put a lot into that place. I kind of saw myself as the Cal Ripken of Cowbird — I showed up every day to play.
I did whatever I could do to keep it going, even through the terrible “days of spam”, even when just about all of the daily posters went away. I stayed, and I did what I could to keep it alive. I was there to welcome newcomers, there to welcome people back who’d gone off to pursue other things, then wondered back after some time away.
I never went anywhere. I was right there. I did other things, but each day, I checked into Cowbird, reached out to others there, and did my bit. It fit nicely into my lifestyle, and was easy to get in, do my bit, then go on with my life.
From the time it was announced that Cowbird was folding up it’s tent, I’ve been in a turmoil. I wasn’t leaving Cowbird — it was leaving me!
My first, immediate (and probably best) response was acceptance. Yeah, maybe it’s time. But, having been so integrally a part of Cowbird, and it having been a part of me, it was not going to go down that easy. I let myself get sucked into a month of turmoil. I fought it with everything I had.
I went through all the stages of grief, not necessarily in any order, but bargaining was manifest throughout, even though, deep inside, I knew I was up against an immovable force.
A decision had been made, and there were no clear signs that that decision would be unmade. But, I didn’t listen to that. I listened to the false hope that we could change the unchangeable. I should have known better. But, I’m an Irishman and a fighter — you show me a fight and a glimmer of hope, and I’m right in that ring, slugging away.
But, by now, I should have known better. In the process, I forgot my age. I forgot to really listen to my intuition, which was trying to tell me, ever so gently, to just let go. Let it go. Trust the universe. All will be well. You’ll see, just let it be. No, I didn’t really have time for that happy crap. I had work to do. I had to try to save Cowbird!
Fortunately, a few others had simply accepted it, and moved on, some here to Medium, and MeWe, to begin the process of building community and storytelling space here. The basics, and tools, were already here. All that was needed was taking the time to figure them out, and reaching out to others to let them know what had been learned. Together, we could build it — right here.
I accepted invitations for both places, but was too busy trying to breathe life back into Cowbird to spend any time figuring this place out.
After our latest effort to stop the bulldozers from coming in and plowing over the functionality of the joint had failed, I knew it was done. I was ready to surrender. That’s when I noticed what was going on over here, on Medium and at MeWe.
What was great, for me, was that I’d had nothing to do with this. It was just here, welcoming me to come on over, and start anew. It was like a breath of fresh air. The wisdom in me said, “just go there, and let all of this go.” I’m listening to that.
I’ve carried enough on my shoulders, for long enough. I tried my best. I do have a life outside of all of this, and when I’m not going crazy trying to salvage something here, I am very much engaged in that life.
After several weeks of all this turmoil, something was bound to give, and this week, it gave. I felt it coming on Tuesday morning, but pushed through it. Yesterday, I debated whether or not to go in to work, but ultimately decided to go. Halfway through the day, right before a call with the union, I felt the migraines coming on. I took a couple of excedrin migraines, and pushed through the call. The union chair was in rare form — by the end of the call, my head was literally spinning. I knew I needed to go. I came home early, and took it easy. By last night, I could feel it in my ears. The vertigo was coming back.
Today, it’s on me. I’m in vertigo hell. It’s a familiar feeling, but one I haven’t felt since September. The thing is, I know I brought it on myself. I’ve been trying to do too much. There are forces still pushing me to do more, but this is where I have to draw the line.
Enough! I’ve done what I could do. I’m paying a personal price. I pushed myself to, and past, my own personal limits. I’m done, now. I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to trust the universe to take care of the rest. The world will go on spinning — in fact, it’s spinning like crazy right now — without me. I’m done.
But, I’m damn glad to be here. Thanks to you who had the wisdom to get this thing going over here. I am very grateful for all you’ve done.
