The last 4 weeks have felt like a succession of hurricanes. Each one coming in slow – and then building up to insane and overwhelming. With me feeling overwhelmed and wrung out by the end of the week. Wishing for just one week where I can take things easy, steady my bearings and restore the FEMA stockpiles.
We’ve had a a long brutal house buying process with bank and seller insanity, our dog being seized by the county and the ensuing political struggle to get him back, school issues, health issues, my work putting me on probation, kid learning issues, kid bullying issues, larger family drama, the elections. (And that’s the ones I can mention publicly.) All lovingly sprinkled through last month in a steaming Creole jambalaya of awful.
This week has been no exception. No big storms – but a lot of collapsing bridges and bursting dikes. I had planned for a calm productive week – but life had other plans. I was a productive employee, loving husband, and caring dad… and yet I also feel rocked, racked, flooded, and with a power grid at 20% capacity.
I hate being so Hurricane prone. I don’t want to be New Orleans. I want to be Omaha, Nebraska. Or some tree orgy hamlet in Vermont. I’ll settle for being Buffalo, NY if everything else is already taken by folks who listened to their parents while in high school and invested in better real estate.
But for now I am on the Gulf Coast and its 2020.
So I am working on flooding, rescue efforts, and emergency power restoration. I am not ashamed to ask for help from abroad. And I am strong enough to deal with it all. Which has been wonderful to see. I am a tougher man then I have yet allowed myself to admit. And the people around me have noticed it as well. I am a solid, adult, male of the species – and my family can depend on me when the storm gales rip through.
Yeah, I am still a mess all over. Years of managerial neglect, corrupt oversight, and special interest politics have taken their toll. Badly in need of stronger infrastructure, better flood walls, and quality emergency response protocols. But I can see that there has been quality leadership even with low resources. The judgy news media in my head will never put it on the front page, but the survivors have felt it first hand. I may be a mess, but am an adult responsible mess that can get the job done. I wasn’t fully sure of it two month ago. I wasn’t fully sure if I could deal with life not being on easy-lets-always-hide-out-at-our-ranch-mode. But I have been, and I can again. I get the job done.
It’s been a month of hurricanes. A month of good adulting. A very painful gift of confidence and self-respect. And I will take it as a gift, and I will settle down in the stadium for a dinner of lukewarm MREs with the other evacuees, with gratitude, and even joy. There is still debris on the roads, and all my palm trees are broken, but you can always make the choice to let the music move you.
But enough about the weather.
I have lots to write and check in about. On Adderall, on ADHD, on Anxiety, Attachment issues, perfectionism, parenting, presence… Its been a month of solid internal work. I feel like I had a major breakthrough every other day – and yet no time to process it all. To write it, or share it, to ground it. Because I am trying to be productive and responsible. So I let most of them go and hope they come back again in a less stormy season. It is what it is.
I choose to be grateful, and when the winds subside, to dance in the wreckage.
