Old Pieces Revisited — Wednesday July 15th 2015
The Process: Entry 5
On a given day, our mental status changes. In the early morning, we can be sluggish, dreading the day ahead. After we remind ourselves of our bills, our commitments, our goals and the necessities of the living, we find the will to get dressed and start our day. We consume an insane amount of coffee and go about our daily rituals . For me, it is the outfit of the day. If I am feeling extra unmotivated that day I wear something that affirms that feeling. Usually, its a dress. A nice one that oozes confidence so people do not have to speculate any ailments. Once I put on my outfit for the day and I am satisfied with the way it looks, I look up to the infinite universe, usually look out the window and say a silent unteathered prayer; for I know not what tortures the people in the concrete buildings I see off in the distance.
When I walk outside to my car, I breathe in the temperature of the day. I look up to the sky and I smile despite the weather. In fact, when it rains, I walk a little slower; feeling cleansed as I take in each drop that grazes my body. On the days that I do not have work, I walk a little slower as I am careless to the clothes that I wear. If the rain drenches each piece of cloth, it may be just as well. I do not object nor reject.
Continuing with my routine, I go to Starbucks. Am I aware that it is too expensive and not even the best coffee? Yes, I am but that is the beauty of habit, you do it despite the reality of the matter. I get my espresso shots with a couple of syrups and I revel in the first sip. My day has officially started. Again, I feel grateful.
I park at the last spot — the farthest distance from the door to the building that holds my livelihood.
I do this because I like the walk. It allows me to mentally prepare for my day. I feel a trickle of rain and again, I walk a little slower.
Working in the mental health field takes a toll on our mind. For this reason, I constantly assess myself. I ask why often. And whenever I feel an unfavorable feeling, I regroup. Luckily I have an hour lunch where I always insist on leaving the premises. Often, I take a walk. Food is not my first priority. Instead, I utilize various meditation and mindful exercises. I also stay silent. I turn my phone off. I listen to soft music if any. The goal is to relax before I go delve back into the unpredictability of my job, the ever changing mental statuses. The wounded hearts, the anxious, guilt-ridden, and defeated souls that come to my building as source of life renewal.
I may not be perfect. I may not save each one of them but I owe it to them to be the best version of myself I can be. The other day, a participant heard me greeting another and she commented “Whenever anyone asks you how you are doing, you always say good, I like that”.
I smiled. I never thought of it that way. Now as I analyze this, I can only think that I respond in this manner because it is ingrained in me.
Even on my toughest day, I will say “good”. Perhaps, it is observing the chaos and the heartache around me that places me in a perpetual state of humbleness. Perhaps, it is 5 years of meditating, running, and reading about how to be in tuned with my body and mind simultaneously. I do not know. I just know that as long as I moving, not in any physical pain, have a place to call home, and a few people who care for me, I am GOOD.
And if I am not, I will just wait till my status changes. I will wait for a smile of the next stranger who walks in the room to brighten up my lamp, or the light rain that hugs the window in the corner or the eager sun that peeks through the clouds, or the bird that glides with the grace of blind angels.
Equally, I will look around and observe all those who have been battered by life and still continue to make strides, no matter how small.
I will sigh in the breath of relief. I may not know what awaits me but I can be present and grateful for what is in my line of vision.
Riddled with ambiguity, our paths are always as beautiful as the natural light that directs us. And there is always light — -despite how remote, how distant —
Each flicker leaves a shadow of hope.
Post Script:
Before I came to Medium, I had a personal blog for years. Tonight I found myself looking back at some old pieces I wrote to see any relevance. Interestingly enough, I couldn’t believe how appropriate I found some of them. I have been writing every day since 2010. It feels so second nature to me that I think I neglect to look how much I can learn from my past self.
I think that is the magic of being a writer. You never think you are getting better, you just know that you cannot stop.
I pay homage to my old self. I respect her for her insight and her dare to fly before she took flight. That Sahra was a dreamer. She wrote of things she only knew in her mind. This Sahra is living those very dreams and looking to her old self for guidance. How refreshing!
May we never feel too old to connect with our old selves.
Peace be your journey.
-Sahra
