My Rocky Mountain Heart

As I lay in bed last night, after day 6 of battling the flu, I felt so defeated. Exhausted. Truly hopeless. Which in reality is so silly because the flu is not going to kill me, right? But in THAT moment of hacking and wheezing, it FELT like it was going to. It felt like I’m never going to be healthy again. Ridiculous I know. But that’s the thing about feelings — they are not rational. You see, whenever I get sick I start analyzing why did I get sick and how did this happen. “Who could’ve gotten me sick? Who was I around that could have exposed me? Did I wash my hands enough? What have I been eating lately? Having I been nourishing myself or harming my body? Was I pushing myself too hard this week? Was I trying to be in control too much? Is it because I’m feeling anxious lately? I probably need to relax. It’s because I’m stressed. Yes, that’s it. I definitely need to relax.” You can imagine this type of neurotic and chaotic thinking is not actually conducive to relaxing, at all. 

So as I laid there alone in our king size bed (my husband has been sleeping in our guest room, so as to avoid the contaminated air that surrounds me), I prayed. Out loud. For the first time in a LONG time. I had a Bruce Almighty moment, if you will. I begged. And bargained. And finally, I surrendered. 

I said “God, please help me. I can’t do this alone. I need YOU to heal me. I have been trying to distract myself instead of actually resting. I have been on my phone 80% of the day instead of actually resting. I thought I was letting my body rest but I allowed my mind to get caught up in the chaos of the world. And I wasted so much energy on things that I do not have the energy for. And so now, here I am, asking you to heal me. And I promise that tomorrow I will actually rest. I will leave my phone in the other room. I will read. I will pet the dogs. And I will be present. I have received your message. I hear you loud and clear. I need to slow down. And I need to be present. I SURRENDER.”

So what does it mean to surrender?  I like this explanation:

This whole week I have been physically resting, but mentally I have been resisting being sick. I have been making plans for next week and thinking about all the things I am behind on at work. I was thinking about my goals for my next workout program. I even ordered a new workout program! Ah yes, control. Here I am, literally sick as a dog, fever, chills, aching bones, headache…and instead of being present with all of this, I tried to mentally escape it through control. Through my planning. My organizing. Because I feel so out of control and worthless when I am sick. And I don’t mean worthless in a ‘my life is worthless’ kind of way, more the ‘Wow, I didn’t do a damn thing today’ kind of worthless. You see, a lot of people look at Type A people (like myself) and compliment them on their “drive” and “organization”…but there is a flip side to that. Type A people love to be in control. Or think they are in control. And when we get put in situations where we feel out of control, we panic. Well, last night I realized that that panic, is really a spiritual disconnect from God. Because you can not be in control and living in faith simultaneously. You cannot say you trust God’s plan for your life and that you have faith in God, when you are trying to control everything.

But this isn’t really about the flu. It’s about life. And death. And my miscarriage in December. And fear. Fear of the future. Fear of pain. Fear of loss. To be totally honest, I have been living in crippling fear for 2 months now, ever since my miscarriage. Fear of getting pregnant. Fear of not getting pregnant. Fear of having children. Fear of never having children. Fear. So much fear. But here is the thing about fear…

I am not in control. And I will never be able to know the future before it unfolds. Living with fear happens when we are anxious about the future, but the future isn’t here yet. So the only way I see to stop the fear, it to be present. To exist in each moment and be mindful of all the feelings I have but to simply (or not so simply) let them pass through me. To let them go. I don’t need to control them. But they don’t need to control me.

I surrender.