coronavirus – A Graceful Catastrophe

So, apparently I make a pretty incredible cinnamon roll.

I discovered this secret after quarantine gifted me almost a complete loss of income. “Gifted me,” you ask?

Why, yes. I am a private math tutor and my working hours are typically after school and weekends. Because of that, my daughter was seeing more of her babysitters than she was of me. My time was consumed with growing my business. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do! It’s just that I was also missing my daughter…so much. On March 17, we went on lockdown. Shortly thereafter, I lost almost all of my clients. Which means, I lost the vast majority of my income.

Thank goodness I’d saved for several significant vacations my daughter and I were going to take this summer. Because I had something to fall back on. For a while, at least.

And then things got serious. And I got nervous. I was overwhelmed with fear – how was I going to survive without any income??

As a stress relief, I started to bake. I’ve always loved to create in the kitchen and there’s no feeling quite like the one that comes over me when someone compliments my cooking.

One day I made cinnamon rolls from scratch, along with the frosting. My friend in Texas had made them and sent me the recipe. I had nothing else to do, so I decided to also make them.

They were SO good! And the recipe had made SO many! I decided to go to social media and made this, what I thought was sarcastic, post:

As it turns out, I stumbled upon some pretty interesting information: people really, really love cinnamon rolls!

I started to get orders for cinnamon rolls like crazy! In those first several days, I didn’t leave my kitchen. I was making cinnamon rolls from the time I opened my eyes until I collapsed into bed at 2 am.

And so began, the cinnamon roll life.

Now, I’ve learned how to manage the orders and lump them on the same day. I make cinnamon rolls once a week now and I’ve even begun cooking dinners! On the weeks that I have my daughter, and it’s a “cinnamon roll day,” she breathes in deeply when she hugs me and says, “Mmm! You smell like cinnamon rolls!”

I love the example that’s being set for her. This virus, and the quarantine that followed, threw every single person in the world for a loop. Most of us have this illusion that we’re in control.

We’re not. Not even a little bit. We can plan and prepare for almost anything and there will still be some “opportunity” (that’s what I call difficult moments now) that presents itself. When we are given this opportunity, we can either choose to succumb to the stress and whine and complain, curl up in a ball and freeze, wondering how in the world you’re going to make it (which is what I did for a hot second)…OR you can embrace it and do whatever it takes to not merely survive, but thrive.

I’m a “thriver.” I am not a survivor. Last year, when catastrophe struck on a personal level, it was all I could do to simply survive. I learned an abundance in those initial 8 months and during the most wonderful solo trip to Greece, I was able to reinvent, or perhaps just rediscover, who exactly I was.

And I am a thriver.

Whatever is thrown at me, I will make the lemonade from those sour lemons. And it’s going to taste damn delicious.

Catastrophe continues to teach me who I am. Through each difficult pass in this journey, I am able to unfurl another layer and delve deeper into the essence that makes me, well, me. And, at least currently, the me that I am smells like cinnamon rolls.

I don’t quite think there is anything better, or more beautiful, than the chance to really see what you’re made of, down to your core. This virus has given me a souvenir that I will add to my collection as yet another reminder that I am strong, capable, and enough.

What souvenirs from this historical moment are you taking into the future with you?

It’s supposed to be a lucky day. St. Patrick’s Day. The luck of the Irish, right? Well, perhaps, in hindsight, today continues to be lucky…despite last year’s events and this year’s pandemic shutting everything down. When viewed properly, March 17th is indeed a lucky day. It’s all about perspective…

There are distinct moments in our lives where we are shoved off our path with such great force that we’ve lost the old path completely and find ourselves battered and bruised in unknown territory. It hurts. It’s scary. And you’re absolutely lost.

But that exact moment, that figurative violent kick from the universe, was exactly what you needed to wake up and learn lessons you refused to learn the easy way. You weren’t entirely and intentionally doing anything to grow, so the beautiful universe then decided to intervene.

I flew off my path at 6:08 pm on March 17, 2019 and face planted elsewhere, landing in unknown and very painful territory. I spent the majority of the last 365 days rediscovering not only who I am, but deciding who I want to be.

This past week has been a lot harder than I anticipated. I love the path I’m currently walking. I love the people I am walking it with. I love myself. I love.

So why have these days been so hard?

It hit me on Sunday. The insecurities that overwhelm you when you’ve been cheated on are abundant. I…

Oof. I just had to walk away. This is surprisingly turning out to be one of the hardest blogs I’ve written. The feelings and thoughts filling my very being right now are so painful and I was not expecting this time to be so challenging. These emotions have caught me completely off guard.

It’s like, everything I’ve reflected on and had thought was nicely processed and behind me is right in front of my face again. It’s like I’m her again. The me I was a year ago. The one who was inadequate in all aspects of her life. Everything is rushing back to the surface and I feel buried in all that shit all over again.

Growth is work. Constant work. Constant positive self-talk, to drown out the voice that seems to always be there, ready to lie to you. And I’m trying so hard to shut that voice up. I thought I had. Ugh, it had been silent for months.

But today…today is hard. I feel inadequate.

At least today, I know that feeling is a lie.

Because I’m not only adequate. I far exceed that. I’m not just enough – I am more than enough. And today, well, today is weird. But, on most days, it doesn’t matter if others don’t see that. Because, quite simply, I do.

So that’s the key. I have to fill my head with positive self-talk. And surround myself with people who lift me up…who remind me that I am strong and amazing…who tell me they’re grateful I’m in their lives. There’s no doubt that my ex’s negative words became the voice in my head, filling my being with lies for years upon years. And there’s also no doubt that my community has gotten me to where I am today. They never hesitate to fill me with unconditional love and encourage me with their uplifting words.

My community has supported me for the full 365 days that have past, seemingly, in a flash. They never once judged me, ridiculed me, or left my side for even a second. They chose to lift me up when I fell and I had so many shoulders to cry on – which was necessary because there was a bit of a flood for a while. They never condemned me for how I chose to process the pain. They believed in me. Not only that, but they believed in love for me when I was sure it didn’t – couldn’t – exist. It is also because of my community that I was able to be vulnerable and dream of love again…because I felt their love so deeply that I knew it surely must exist in reality.

It isn’t easy to come out on the other side from a catastrophe. It takes careful diligence, intention, and far too many difficult moments of seeing who you are at your core. And it truly takes a village.

But it pays off.

So now I’m taking a moment to pause. As I close my eyes, I see myself standing in the middle of this beautiful, blossoming path, so fragrant with brand new, blooming life that I can no longer smell the shit that covered me just days, weeks, and months ago. And as I open my eyes and look around, I see my people who have willingly chosen to accompany me on this journey.

This new community is filled with not only my tried and true, been-there-for-every-step-of-all-my-journeys soulmates, but also people who have come into my life that I never fathomed could ever exist. These significant souls keep pushing me to grow, to dig deeper in order to discover the true roots of my pain, so that I can continue to properly heal my past wounds. And as I take this symbolic meandering down my new path, I can give myself a little pat on the back, pause to smile, and realize how far I’ve really come.

It was this past Tuesday, March 10, that I realized the date. And the week that followed has been a roller coaster. I was incredibly on edge and the people closest to me felt that chaotic energy and, thankfully, dealt with it with grace. I purposely pushed buttons over the weekend, as the emotions that were coming out by then were anger and insecurity. And then I started to write this past Sunday afternoon, when the anger had finally left and was replaced completely by intense self-doubt and vulnerability.

And I continued to write, well into Tuesday, March 17, but now in yet another significantly different place.

When I had to walk away, when I had a bit of a breakdown while writing…that began to heal me. When I wrote on Monday, I felt uplifted. I finally saw my baggage. I had been holding something so heavy all week but I didn’t know what it was. Just that it was an incredible burden. It was weighing me down and turning me into my former self – though I was fighting it hard.

But then, after a lengthy chat with a soul that truly gets me, I was able to stand in front of that figurative mirror, my dear old friend from the past year, that I hadn’t stood before in months. And I saw what that weight was. I saw the roots of those feelings of inadequacy.

And what I saw surprised me.

My ex did some work to bring me down and led me to believe I wasn’t enough. Years of it. Well into the wee hours of this morning, it hit me. I realized that what was really happening was that he was projecting onto me the pains from his own childhood, the feelings of never being enough for his own father. Growing up, no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his dad’s approval or attention. I can’t even imagine how inadequate that makes a young boy feel and how heavy that makes a little boy’s heart. The pain that my ex has lived with, of never feeling like he was enough…that’s heartbreaking. And he didn’t know how to process that pain, so he projected it onto me, causing his pain to be mine.

Ultimately, he cheated, I think, because I devalued him. Just like his dad had. I unknowingly and unintentionally triggered the memories of that same old pain from childhood because I wasn’t being nurtured how I needed to be. It was a vicious cycle. He didn’t give me what I needed, so I didn’t give him what he needed. I didn’t behave with understanding or compassion.

I see now, though, that I wasn’t getting what I needed from him, not because he didn’t want to give it to me, but because he was just too broken to do so. I took his pain personally and then internalized it all, because, frankly, I didn’t know any better. I didn’t understand because I had never really read the whole story. Looking at him today, I know now that he loved me, although that was something I’d questioned for the last 6 years of our marriage, causing more hurt and resentment. He just had no clue how to show it because he couldn’t overcome the hurt in his heart that’d been simmering there for decades.

Cheaters are victims, too. They cheat because they’re trying to cover their pain, ignoring it by finding solace, even for just a few moments, in somebody – anybody – who will give them the attention they’ve been seeking since childhood.

One year later, I understand. He never intended to intentionally hurt me. I was just the collateral damage to his trauma.

So I see it – and feel it – a bit more clearly now. I am not insignificant or inadequate. And I am not a victim.

I think I can finally move forward in grace, as I now have an understanding of what occurred like never before. Perspective is beautiful.

365 days later. What. A. Year!

Today, my heart swells with compassion for my ex. And I’m also thrilled to have been catapulted onto this path I am walking today, filled with these once-strangers who see me, push me, and help me to grow, and who I am now lucky enough to call my family.

As we navigate this new season all of us are entering, with our country, no, our global community, at a virtual standstill, I think it’s important that we embrace these hard-earned lessons. None of us fully understands another’s story because we’re all reading it through our own filters. If we take a moment to step outside of ourselves, to remove our personal filter, to change our perspectives, we can then begin to live with true compassion.

From the beginning I’ve wanted to live through this catastrophe with grace. I can see the bigger picture now. We all have our hurts. Therefore, it only makes sense that we all give grace, live with love in our hearts, assume best intent in others, and treat everyone with kindness and true tenderness. Life is hard. It’s going to be a touch harder now that everything is shut down and social distancing is a thing. As humans, we are naturally social beings. So, give love in whatever capacity you can. Be gracious. And if someone hurts you, try to approach the situation with mercy and understanding. Hurt people hurt people. Try not to add to their hurt.

I wish you all an open heart so you can feel the peace, love, and luck on this very odd St. Patrick’s Day.

Tag: coronavirus

My Cinnamon Roll Life

365 Days