Letting go of waiting

I think I was born to wait on others. Something that has my adult self wondering if I am an inflexible stick-in-the-mud of some sort. See the article My Kryptonite and Expect the Unexpected. I don’t want to be strict about it, and I want to have a very flexible attitude and outlook. But sometimes I really feel tested.

When I was younger, around grade school age or earlier, I waited endless nights for my dad to come home from work. I recall watching headlights go by hour after hour wishing so hard that the next set of lights would turn the corner and into our driveway. Wishing did not make it so. I remember feeling so confused and crushed by this, and as a child, ‘high functioning alcoholic’ was not in my vocabulary.

Now that I have my own place I like things to happen in my own time, on my schedule. It is wonderful and dreamy! Let me tell you, I love being free. Yes, I crave company just like anyone else. But when you are expecting someone and they don’t show or don’t communicate…my blood boils. I guess you could say it’s one of my red, shiny buttons. We don’t like having our buttons pushed, yet we all have them.

Now, don’t get the idea I am so inflexible that it’s not okay to show up. I understand things happen. Life has a way of interrupting our plans. Flat tires happen, as do a change of plans, people get sick, they are delayed, or some other emergency happens. I get it.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” —John Lennon

It’s just never okay to not show up without some sort of communication about it. To me it is an great lack of respect. Anything is better than to be left hanging. Nothing is worse than to be that invisible, forgotten person. Ah, that’s the point of my frustration! Back to the I’m invisible mantra that dogged me most of my life. When it came to my waiting on dad, that was never really resolved. As a child I had to be invisible during the rants and arguments going on between my parents. On the other hand I craved his attention as any child wants to have a daddy. He was not able to fulfill anything on that level for me, or any of us kids for that matter. If he had more time on the planet, I think that might have been explored a bit. But he died relatively young.

You would think that by now I would have slain this old dragon, who probably is so old his whiskers are dragging on the ground and he has to use a cane to get around. But I know when something still bugs me (or comes up) it’s in my life for a reason. I have to follow my own advice and think on why lessons repeat. I still have something to learn from this. The key is something still needs exploring—about me, or about the process—not about the other person involved. It’s not on them to fix a thing. I need to change my energy about it. That has to be brought to the next level up.

I am being triggered, but am also feeling inflexible, reactive, and should not let anyone else have this much power over me. I feel really silly, like I am back in child mode because the feeling doesn’t dissipate in seconds, like I want it to. Even though I intellectually know I have to let go, be more flexible and live in the moment, the feeling of irritation lingers.  Maybe that is natural even in the letting go process? Maybe the letting go of anything feelings happens in stages.

On a good note, a friend was with me that day, and was very understanding and supportive. Let me tell you that was a welcoming experience, and it was much appreciated! Being supported when you experience groundless and helpless feelings is really an act of love. I am in gratitude!

I will have to dig deeper and get over that feeling of not being in control, of being ignored, and that whole bundle of items that pop up. I must learn to be truly happy in the moment no matter what unexpected things occur. For me that will be a lifetime practice. It must be an art form to let go of waiting. 

This blog is a forum where life’s ups and downs can be explored and discussed. Please add to the discussion your experiences, thoughts, and ruminations!

 

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