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Singing In The Rain: 48 Hours In Retrospect

October 7th, 2009

Metaphorically–Singing in the rain, metaphorically. No one, trust me no one wants to see me sing, not even in the rain. I save that glorious pleasure for solo car rides and loud showers.

The intent of this post is to talk about, from a very personal perspective, trying to find the silver lining, see the bright side, look at the glass half full, and any other kitschy association to taking our unexpected roadblocks as opportunities to carve out new trails. I am trying very hard to keep that mindset and, surprisingly, I find the more I search for the better the more “better” appears.

In the 48 plus hours since writing my bright and spirited “The Year of the Dog” post many things have happened and many subsequent decisions have been made–the initiator to all being that my husband and I found out that his guarantee transfer that had lingered in “on hold” for a month had fallen through due to beurocratic blah blah blah. That left us wondering, “What next?” This is what we came up with:

1) My husband is going to continue working in New Jersey through November 6th and try to get a few more checks worth of money in before we, potentially, become a house no longer divided in half but one with a household income divided in half. He will then move to Florida and actively look for whatever job possible, hopefully in his area of passion which is substance abuse counseling, but anything to bring some income in to supplement my salary. He will also be returning, to my great pleasure, to school to obtain his Masters in Social Work starting next Fall 2010.

2) I will, to my great displeasure, have to postpone my Yoga Teacher Training by two months and begin the next series of trainings in mid January. I will be a single doggie mama with three pups at home and cannot in good conscience (without ending up on Animal Planet Cops or feeling like I should) leave them home from dawn till past dusk so I can pursue my holistic dreams.

3) On a completely different note I have decided it may be necessary to look into Doggie Ritalin. I am beginning to wonder if there can be a genetic marker in a certain breed for ADHD–if so Jack Russell is that breed. My little Gracie is an unstoppable, unflappable, unending spring (literally, she bounces straight in the air like a spring) of energy and, possibly, psychosis. O.k., so I may not be feeding her handfuls of puppy prescriptions anytime soon, but I may have to invest in some kind of doggie treadmill–if there is such a thing. I think the only thing my Jack Russell birthday puppy has taught me about thirty is that thirty may be too old for a Jack Russell puppy. But we will forge forward, my family of dysfunctional fur-babies and I: Guinness the Neurotic, Gaia the Narcissist, and Gracie the Psychotically Hyper.

A 48 HOUR RETROSPECTIVE…

Going backwards in time to 48 hours ago I was not sure what to do or what to think about our sudden family perdicament. Part of me wanted to cry, part wanted to scream, part wanted to just give up. Fortunately none of those were a dominant enough part of me to reak unproductive havoc although each part of me had its moment in the last couple of days.

I thought about a thirtieth birthday in a real limbo and spent alone 1200 miles away from my husband and in a state of uncertainty about more than the number 30. I thought about the potential pressures of getting all the bills paid and the scary prospect of not succeeding. I thought of aspirations of sitting in a dimly lit room, breathing, learning, and meditating daily falling away as were my plans and hopes for all things related to this October.

Money & Meditation: two completely converse distractions.

So, I thought, how could I feel so hopeful Monday and in such desperation by Tuesday. I realized the only piece I could affect between the two was not the money or the postponed meditation but my perspective, perception, and state of mind. All these strengths I have been building on the past month or so on this blog finally came to an application head–I needed full forces aligned to find the light in the storm, the brighter side, the inspiration to sing even in the rain.

I thought about how my husband’s job falling through had gave him the final push necessary to actively pursue his masters degree–a very good thing. I thought about how having the next two months to get our lives in order, the household in order, and actually have some time with my husband when he gets down here in a month was perhaps a bit of a blessing. I thought about how much all of these trials of reality have brought my marital relationship to its strongest place and taught my husband and I an immense amount about ourselves individually, the other partner, and us collectively. I thought that while I don’t know how I feel about the phrase, “Everything happens for a reason,” that I do believe more and more, “We can find reason and purpose in everything that happens.”

So I find myself 48 hours later in somewhat of the same state of mind as I was originally. It took me a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions to get here and an immense amount of support, some unexpectedly beautiful, from friends, family, and coworkers, old and new. And most important, the mutual support of my husband and I, for each other as well look at each other partner’s respective difficulties within this predicament.

And to give a little bit of melodic sound (if not actual singing) to the storm, my husband called last night saying that he was able to find a dirt cheap flight for Thursday, October 15. So I guess I will not have to resort to party hats for the fur-kids and dogfood cake for my birthday after all–yes, I contemplated it.

But more than that I realized how touched I was by my husband’s gesture towards me, our relationship, and to the importance of a birthday not spent alone. I found myself, last night, on the other end of the phone crying tears not of self-pity or anger but of gratitude–no one was more surprised than I at how much it meant to me to have him give such a gift to me and to our relationship.

Those tears were like an emotional prize I had won for getting to where I had without the pitying tears.

Tonight I sit, while somewhat emotionally exhausted, quite bright again. Not Jack Russell psychotically bright, but optimistic. And looking forward without trepidation…and counting down the days until I have a two parent team for this dog-full household.