The insistent ring of my phone beckoned. It was my mother's cell phone, which she generally uses for emergencies. This usually means she has called an ambulance to take her to the hospital. I steadied myself, as she asked if anyone had called me first. She sounded worried that her medication for her Urinary Tract Infection hadn't arrived at her condo yet, and her pain was too unbearable to wait any longer. Due to worry and anxiety, her blood pressure became high enough to warrant a call to 911. By the time they reached her, and she reached the hospital, her blood pressure came back to normal. It's a pattern, and everyone at her Condo complex knows the drill by now.
Except that since she suffered her second heart attack earlier this summer, she doesn't want to take any chances.
I had just come home from work, and I was able to walk her through taking a few deep breaths to steady her nerves. Both of our nerves. I could tell she wasn't really 'buying' it, but I proceeded to do it anyway.
"Take a long, slow breath as you count to three. Then hold for a few seconds, and release slowly."
We did this a few times together, or so I thought. I told her to take note of where she is, look around, put her hands together, and come into her senses. I was doing it right along with her.
"I'm sorry. I'm SORRY", she said, the second time more harshly, and then she hung up. I was left feeling a bit befuddled, as I was just trying to get her to calm down.
This too, is a pattern. I truly wish I could help her, but there are times when she misinterprets my intention, and I'm left feeling hollow, shallow, and misunderstood. It sucks. Even though I understand and know she means nothing by it, I know I am doing my best. And so is she.
It's during these times it feels as if our spirits have crossed paths, or worse yet, gotten entangled.
This is when I usually go numb. It's been my default setting.
This time I am writing about it, just to see what it looks like on the page in front of me. To see how sad and crazy this is, and to catch my own breath. To stop for a moment to breathe. Look up at the candle I just lit before I started writing. To look at the message I placed near the candle, and the pile of rocks I placed nearby.
"May I, May We Be Brave and Express our Way into Healing"...
And sometimes this is hard. I feel for my mother, yet when I really am honest with myself, my heart gets stuck in my chest, and I just go numb. I am not sure how I can 'be' with this anymore. I wish I could 'be' better, but really, I see that even when I am with her, and she is in the throes of anxiety, or depression, or paranoia, she just sees everything covered in a cloud. Or even black soot. And she senses that i know this deeply.
But I also know that I want the very best for her, so that she wouldn't have to suffer. She would actually be able to feel content to 'be' here now. But the concept seems to mostly escape her, as she says, and feels that she doesn't deserve happiness.
So I gave myself a few minutes before I called her back. Her companion that accompanied her to the hospital answered the phone. She told me that my mother thought that she was bothering me. I told her to tell my mother that if I couldn't come to the phone, I simply wouldn't have answered.
Deep breath again.
It's just complicated. I know why, but it's still just so hard. It's sometimes truly hard to know what to say. Except, for "I'm sorry your're not feeling well today. If there was a way I could sweep your pain away, I would."
May I be Brave and Express My Way into Healing.
Deep Breath, Hand on Heart.
The next day when I talked with her, she explained it was a good thing that she went in to the hospital. She was able to get the medicine she needed, and all was well.
Or was it? Could the UTI have been prevented by keeping her stress levels lower generally, and simply paying more attention to personal hygiene?
The issue is, we likely will never get to the 'bottom' of this, pun, or no pun. The real issue is that my mother's level of stress is real, and nearly constant. So much so, it sometimes may make it hard to pay attention to the small details when in the trance of stress. Or, the stress simply helps her to merely survive, without being able to enjoy more, and fret less.
And THAT is what I have come to learn over the last twenty years since I took my first meditation class. When I feel a certain level of stress rising, I try to stop what I am doing and literally 'come into my senses'. Notice what I am seeing in front of me. Hearing. Touching. Doing. Breathing. Labeling everything until I can just come to a slow crawl. So that I can respond better.
It makes a difference, or at least more of a difference than if I don't pause to reflect.
I do know that I am still working on this, and will keep practicing for as long as I live.
You can follow a short guided meditation here, by one of my favorite teachers with a wonderful way of being and speaking.
https://www.tarabrach.com/meditation-collecting-quieting-mind/
Can you relate to any of this at some level? If so, I invite you to respond in the comments below.
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