I have learned over the years that ignoring things doesn't make them go away, no matter how much I wish it were so. Case in point, my dining room ceiling. We noticed a small leak in the ceiling several years ago, and the plumber went to the bathroom directly over the site and re-caulked the tub, which he said had not been properly caulked. We thought the problem was solved.
A couple of days ago I notice the place is now worse. A hole has now appeared. It's a small leak, sure, but the issue wasn't solved and now we will have to get a major repair done, I fear. At the very least we will have to cut a chunk out of the ceiling and see what's going on.
Our plumber is a great guy and I know he felt like the issue was solved. I don't blame him. We have an old house, built in 1968. Something is always going wrong.
People problems are similar.
Last January one of my son's friends killed himself. I had never heard the boy's name, and didn't think he was a close friend. It was a senseless tragedy, though. I tried to talk to Michael about it but he didn't want to discuss it with me, or with anyone. Fast forward, and we are having a lot of issues with Michael lately. I won't go into details, but I see now, looking back, what I didn't see then, how what I thought was a relatively minor or at least transient issue could escalate. However, the issues with Michael are not going to lead to suicide. I don't mean to imply that. We are working on solutions and I have faith we will work through things. (Mike's a good guy who just has some maturing to do.)
I had a confrontation yesterday with a friend I've known since we were kids. I will not go into details, but suffice to say that resentments had built up over a period of years, to the point where a confrontation was inevitable, and it was quite an awkward and painful situation. Journaling about my feelings [more in depth than I can write here] was helpful.
My writing is like a pressure valve. Pressure and stress build up and build up in me, and eventually there has to be an outlet. This happens to all of us. Some people drink. Some smoke. Some take drugs. Some over-indulge in food - which I have done, on many occasions. The way I try to cope now is that I write. There are hundreds of journal pages I have filled over the years -- obviously there are many feelings I cannot post publicly here.
My mother taught me this. She didn't realize it at the time, but she served as a great example for me. She used to write letters and poems and lots of lists; she still does, to some extent. She has a blog. She also still makes lists. (I make lists, too. In fact, I just stopped writing for a minute to make a To Do list for this coming week. Every time I clean out my purse I find lists.)
Another thing I find helpful, and it may be beneficial to share this for those of you who don't like to type or write, is visualization. No, I'm not a new-agey weirdo. It's just that over the years I realized that the way to help myself relax is to be quiet and shut my eyes and picture a calm, happy scene, like me walking down the beach. For someone else it might be cycling, or cooking, or playing with a child - doesn't really matter what it is, as long as it's something soothing and pleasant. "Painting" in the details mentally - the blue sky, the breeze, the warm sand under my toes, the sound of the crashing waves - really helps to get me into the scene. Usually as soon as I'm really feeling in the moment I doze off, but then I awaken quickly and feel much better.
I have noticed over the years that quite often when I think of someone I haven't seen in a while, and/or look at photos of them, remember shared experiences, etc. - they reappear in my life. Is that wishful thinking, unexpressed prayers, the "universe" reacting to me? Who knows. I just have noticed over the years that it happens a LOT. Wishes manifest. I think this is the thinking behind "The Secret" that was so popular a few years ago, but I don't give it that much credence. [I picture myself winning the lottery sometimes but since I was raised by a banker and am incapable of buying lottery tickets, winning ain't gonna happen; but then again I haven't wasted my money either...]
I just realize I digressed...
- and now to return to the original premise, sort of -
I am reading an excellent book called Flight Patterns, by Karen White. I have read almost all of her books, over a period of years, and it's gratifying to see her writing evolve and sharpen. She is an excellent observer of family relationships, and the damage that withheld information and feelings can do. I guess her books would likely be called Chick Lit, but I hate that term. Good writing is, to me, whatever takes you out of your own head and helps you cope by distancing yourself from the issues in your life, even if only for a few minutes at a time. I am not a purist when it comes to writing, which is why it's best I didn't get my PhD in English. I never fit in, in the UT English department where anything not "literature" is considered crass and unworthy. The snobbery of the English department used to annoy me worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.
The magic of reading fiction is to lose oneself, to travel and experience things without ever leaving your chair, to get inside an author's head and see the world through their eyes. Any writing that transports the reader has value, in my estimation. Here's how I think of it, a comparison: most folks use plates and bowls to eat from, and everyone eats. Does it matter if the plate is fine china, like Limoges? No. A paper plate serves the same function, to hold the food that sustains us. So true for books and stories, too. The vehicle is unimportant, as long as the experience is powerful and real.
I digressed again.
Let's wrap this up.
Don't suppress your feelings. Express them. Explore them. Write. Read. Draw. Sing. Do yoga. Whatever works for you. Just don't hold everything in and try to pretend the feelings don't exist. That way lies madness.
[below, an image that isn't really relevant but I just like it. It's my grandfather as a young man, next to a dead gator.]
