The Gift of Surrender

Well, it’s been an interesting few weeks.  I’ve experienced long COVID, realized I have pressure points that I need to watch otherwise I may get an infection, and have had trouble finding research participants, and dreamed I got euthanized.  I love it!  It means freedom!

It may sound crazy but having COVID for the second time and finding these pressure points that make me have to stop and rest for at least 10 minutes so my skin doesn’t break under pressure is one of the best things that’s happened to me.  Not the circumstances itself.  Obviously being dizzy sucks, and no one likes the idea that your seatbelt being too tight and sitting up too long could cause a hospital visit.  And I certainly do not like the fact that, yet again, I’m having trouble finding my perspective in inclusive courses.  It’s not that I love to suffer, but I am finally coming to understand the gift of suffering, and I love the transformation.

I don’t love the fact that I had to ask for yet another extension on some of my courses to get back to normal.  I love the fact that I was willing to show my weakness to them, and also the boss of this magazine and received their compassion.

I don’t love the fact that my work time has been cut into smaller chunks to take the pressure off my body, especially when the finish line is right there.  I love the fact that I can be honest that I don’t like it and then just move on.  Also, I am making more time for friends and my life is richer for it.

I hate waiting and wondering if I’m going to get enough people on time for the project.  But I can’t tell you how happy I am that the panic is more manageable staying inside my head and not spilling over into relationships.  But it’s more than that.

A couple weeks ago I made a recording of my worst fear based on the rejection to try exposure techniques to help with my perfectionism.  I won’t traumatize you with the details, but I subconsciously saw myself as trash.  Not because of my family, of course, but because of one man in Saskatchewan euthanizing his daughter a couple years before I was born (S.  Neven, [personal communication] September 15, 2015).  I woke up after having a dream where I was her and then as myself, he stabs me in the throat.

I woke up smiling.  Not one of those fake, “I’m fine” smiles, but real. Because it’s over—he can’t hurt me anymore.

Why? Because I surrendered.  Because I know I’m loved and I’m safe.

This is the greatest gift.  I invite you to try—it’s worth it.