What We Have to Give

You know how when you ask someone how they are doing these days, they tend to say something like, “Good! Fine. Pretty much fine. We are okay. You know.” And then there is a pause where you both nod vigorously and either on the phone or in person, you both just take a silent moment to acknowledge that nothing and nobody is actually okay right now. It’s like our reflex to perform the tiny linguistic ceremony consisting of, “How are you”, “I’m good! How are you?” is so strong that at first, we just do it. Then we weaken in our resolve to maintain that veneer, and we admit to something a grade down from “good”. And then, standing in the blatant falsehood of our own mechanical language, we scale down again. It bears no explanation. We are probably healthy if we are able to even begin conversations that way, and that should be what matters, I guess. I hear that in what is hanging in the silence. “I should be grateful. I know that a lot of people are having a much harder time right now. I have no reason to complain, and I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful”. 

This is a hard time to feel grateful. 

There are so many things wrong right now, I don’t know what fire to put out first. Except, I have so little control over any one of the many, huge, overwhelming problems we are facing, that my impulse to do something comes out so incredibly feeble, so pathetic, honestly, and that in itself adds humiliation and the fury of powerlessness to the mix. I will try every day to keep my house orderly. I will read this book. I will pay attention. I will answer my emails. I will dutifully exercise. I will stay at home. I will wait. And wait some more. 

From time to time, my anger, and frustration, and disappointment, and despair, and sadness, and the diverse array of emotions I am experiencing build up, and they spill out. A few days ago, I woke up at 3:30 am, with no solution to any of the things I am worried about. I tried to do nice things for myself in the quiet of the morning, but by the time my family was up, I heard a hiss in my voice. I heard my impatience. But I plodded along, doing the new routine of things I do that blend together my job and my family and all the people I love and care about and my living space and my work space and...and...and I thought I could just push through. I tried to. I cried a little. I begged my partner for some time alone. I gritted my teeth and tried to keep working. I did all the things, as best I could, which wasn’t very good. I woke up again, the next day, way too early again. I started again doing all the meaningless things on my little to do list. I got into more pointless arguments with the other stressed out people in my house. It just went on and on. 

Finally, I was able to schedule myself a couple hours outside at the park with people who are not my (wonderful) kids. I came home calm and refreshed. There were no more arguments, because I had space for other people’s stuff. And, I had admitted to myself that I was overwhelmed and needed self-care, and then I had gone and actually done something nice for myself. So then, when somebody who was already in a terrible mood spilled milk all over the kitchen, I heard myself offer to clean it up with grace and good cheer in my voice. Because I finally calmed down, I did not view that as another mess for me to deal with. I saw it as an opportunity to give help and support to someone I love who was struggling. I was glad to help. I felt generous. 

To the extent that I say what I need and then follow through on doing what I need to do to serve myself, I can show up that way, generous in my grace. It feels so good, actually, to stand in that place. Sometimes I think I should be giving everybody a chore chart, or going on strike and just refusing to cook or something, that that is the way  that they will learn to take care of our home.  And other days I am able to remember that they are also all stressed out and doing the best they can, my family. Those days, I can keep in my mind that when I can be generous in my grace, I hold space for whatever is happening for these people who I love, even if it’s so big and amorphous that it’s hard for us to put into words. 

There is a partnership between those words, gratefulness and generosity, but one does not require the other. One has us rest in what we have received, while the other rests in what we have to give. There is so much potential, so much future, so much opportunity in giving generously. So right now, I am allowing myself to ease up on gratefulness. I am finding focus in where I can be generous.