A Year in Review

A year ago almost to the day, my boyfriend and I broke up. I had quit my job that had seemed like a perfect fit because it was part-time with benefits just a month before, and although many people didn’t know it, my family was struggling with my dad’s depression, which was the worst it had ever been in my lifetime, and most likely the worst it had ever been in his, too.
If you had told me that a year from then I would be living in a beautiful mountain town in Panama, about to perform in two one-act plays and 80,000 words into a book I’ve been wanting to write for years, I would have wept with relief, even if I didn’t believe you. This time last year was the toughest time I’ve probably ever lived, and it has become a central theme in the book I’m writing.
Last weekend I spoke to my dad on the phone, and he asked if there were parts of the book I didn’t want my parents to read. I said yes, but that it wasn’t for the reasons he might think.
“I can’t tell my story without telling part of yours, and I’m worried about what you might think of what I have to say,” I told him.
“Well, I’m not afraid of the truth,” he said. “It’s no secret that I was really sick, and I would hope some good comes out of it – that maybe you learned something from the experience.”
It was exactly what I needed to hear.
Even as it has become obvious that this book is most importantly a processing of the last year of my life, it has also become apparent that the story is not over: that there is more to learn. I am continuing to write it, not about the past anymore, but about every day that I live here, everything I learn about myself: where I've come from, and where I want to go. I’m not sure when I’ll reach a good ending, but I just have to trust that I’ll know it when I see it.
An important part of the journey, however, is gathering the courage to share some of the most painful parts.
Below is a letter that I wrote to my dad last October – when he was already MUCH better than he was at this time last year. I share this partly to gather the courage to share my story, and also to celebrate. I’ve come a long way in a year, and truth be told the mileage from home is the least important part.

Dear Dad,

I can’t keep the silence any longer. It is excruciating to me to see you in pain. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a child, considering the powerlessness I feel that you are my parent and there is nothing I can do to make you better.
For as long as I can remember, my universe has been shaped by your depression. This fact of life was discussed in the family, but not outside of it. You wanted to wear your anonymity like a cloak of invisibility, but when I borrowed it – which was often – I wore it like a badge of honor, especially because you wore it so well: so bravely, so stoically. Few of my friends could claim a depressed father, even if, at that point, your depression was held in check by medications that no longer work.
Do you realize, Dad, how inextricably we are linked? When I fled to a yoga retreat center in Canada this summer, you asked me why.
“Is it the money?”
“No, it’s because of you, Dad.”
“Me?!?” you exclaimed, as if you existed in a vacuum; as if our family hasn’t been battling implosion as we helplessly watch you suffer.
I am not without resources, thank goodness, and they have told me in many ways and under no uncertain terms that there is nothing I can do to empower you more than to simply live my own life and love you for who you are, regardless of how you feel. I am to trust you to your own path, as you have trusted me to mine.
I can know this to be true with all the intuitive fibers of my being; I can know I am attached to my laundry list of ideas to banish your depression and I want them to work, but there is no guarantee. I am just one in a room of many voices, clamoring for your attention, wanting to be heard, insistent that I know you better than all the other people you see for their professional opinions.
I know my role, but I want you to know: if it were in my power, if I could change it, fix it, or take it away, I would do it. I would not hesitate for a single moment, if it meant you would never wake up depressed again.
Do you know that watching you struggle is terrifying, horrifying, painful? Every time I talk to you and you say you don’t feel better, that you feel worse, that you’re anxious, or afraid, I want to hunt down a physical version of your illness and cut it to pieces and watch it die a slow, painful death so that I can know it has suffered even a little bit for the vast amount you have endured on its behalf.
You cannot see out of the hole you’re in; even when we assure you that you’re improving, that the treatments are helping, that you are better, your shoulders stay drooped, your spirits stranded, your eyes downcast. What I wouldn’t give to make you smile; a smile that would lift the corners of your mouth and cause you to laugh at the absurdity of it all, of your life, of the little problems that you used to remind me meant nothing, but now weigh you down like cement shoes.
I may think I have the answers for you, Dad, but they are my answers applied to your questions. Until YOU find the answers to your questions, there is only one thing I can do: stand next to you, hold your hand, and tell you that I love you; that I always have; that I always will. Because I do; I always have, I always will.

Love and a whole year of kisses
Morgan

All Parts of Me

 

Tonight I gave a man a hug. I gave it to him because he needed it, but he wasn’t the only one to benefit.

The ashram is many things, but it is not the place to hug. It is a celibate community that does not encourage exclusive relationships of any kind – friendship or romantic relationships. Although it works to encourage introspection and giving people their space, human contact falls to the wayside. A couple days ago I showed my hot sauce stash to another man at the ashram, and he touched my arm in thanks. It jolted me to realize how long it had been since I had been touched like that by a man – not in a sexual way, but a squeeze to show me physically that my generosity was noticed, noted, and appreciated.

I forget where I read it – fact or fiction? – but somewhere, I read that babies can die if they aren’t held, simply from the lack of contact. Even if they don’t physically die, there is certainly an emotional component to this lack of touch. I know it because I feel it now in a way I didn’t before – when someone reaches out to me in love regardless of whether it’s platonic or romantic, my entire being blossoms in response.

It’s unfortunate that this lack of touch is what brought my appreciation for physical affection to my attention, but then again, it’s a very human characteristic to realize how much you miss something once it’s gone. I am still reeling at the thought that I get to hug Kyle Jaynes again because he was found alive after being lost for four days and thought dead after he disappeared on a hike; I ate a hamburger today because I got the chance to eat beef, and I haven’t had the opportunity to do so for awhile, since the ashram serves mostly vegetarian fare.

When I first came to the ashram, I thought it was the first place I had been in a long time where I could be myself, but that’s not true. This is the first place I’ve ever been that I could be THIS self, but that doesn’t mean I’m ALL parts of me here. I have found emotional support here, but not the physical comfort to accompany it; I have found a spiritual path, but it doesn’t leave room for my trucker’s vocabulary or my road rage at tourist drivers (many of whom actually come from British Columbia in their campers and manage to drive in front of me…regardless of where I am!)

Tonight, I feel enlightened, because I can focus on being here, now, without worrying about where I will go next, or what I want to be, when I’m already it…I’m already me. This morning, I didn’t feel enlightened. I will probably lose my enlightenment at some point – like when my alarm clock starts beeping at me tomorrow morning. Someone pointed out to me here that enlightenment comes in small pieces; in mundane tasks and every day moments, where you feel such profound joy to be where you are that all other thoughts are whisked away. In those moments, it doesn’t matter if I’ve reached some far off space that I hope to hold for the rest of my life; it doesn’t matter if I have everything I need or want to live the life I want and deserve. All that matters is that at that moment, I connect in a way that is tangible…as if I put my finger on a thread of the universe and can feel the vibrations resonate through me, as if I were the guitar body, and someone else is twanging the strings. 

Love and sometimes enlightened kisses

Morgan

Me, Myself and My Ego

Me: "Nnnnnn….nnnnn….nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn"
My ego: "YES!"
Me: "Nnnnnnnnnnn….nnnnnnn….." {stop, pause for breath, mopping of brow, starting over} "NNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
My ego: "Yeah, we’ll see how long THAT lasts."

I have a problem. I can’t say no. People ask things of me, and my first response is to do whatever it is they need me to do because it will obviously make their lives easier.
I have become convinced that this is because of my ego. My body and my mind are a united front on this one, but unfortunately they are not quite as strong as my ego. This is how it usually goes:

Other person: “Morgan, I need you to drop everything you’re doing or think is important and take on this all-consuming task for me. It will pay little, take up a lot of your time, and it’s way below and/or far away from what you want to be doing, but I really don’t see you having problems juggling all the other things you’re doing, so I don’t think this will be that big of a deal. Whaddya say?”

Morgan’s body: “Ummmm….I don’t think this is a good idea…”
Morgan’s mind: “Yeah, I’m thinking that I’m already mentally exhausted, and Body isn’t doing all that great…”
Morgan’s ego: “OF COURSE we’re going to do it! Did you hear what that a$$hole said? He thinks we can’t do it! Of course we can do it! We can do anything! You can sleep when you’re dead, Body! You’ve got a long way to go before you show people that you’re worth anything, Mind! This is the answer! Stop being namby-pambies and BUCK UP!”
Morgan’s body: {checks reserves} “Well, I guess for a little while…”
Morgan’s mind: “Gee, Ego, you’re right. People will respect me more if I…”
Morgan’s ego: “SHUT UP AND GET TO WORK!”
{Enter montage of Morgan running in circles like a chicken with head cut off, ended with short video of Morgan lying in the fetal position}

Morgan’s body: “Can’t. Go. On.”
Morgan’s ego: “Yes you can! Get up! GET UP GET UP GETUPYOULAZYIDIOT!”
Morgan’s mind: {gathers last reserves of strength} “Nnnnnnnnnnn….nnnooooooooo!”
{Ego momentarily silenced}
[APPLAUSE]

It’s a cycle. I get a control on what it is I want to do, start feeling good about it and energized about what I will be doing, then someone asks something of me and I’m convinced by my ego to say yes. Suddenly all my energy is going into my new project that isn’t even mine, my body gives out, I burst into tears at the thought of all I have to do, and my ego only shuts up when there’s nothing else I can give and I have to go back to all the people I’ve promised things to and tell them I am wholly incapable of doing them.
I then get my time back, start doing things that make me feel better (take time for runs and yoga, eat better, drink less, sleep more), get a handle on things, start getting things done, and someone else comes in with a request and my ego perks up and takes over.

I’ve noticed recently, however, that my ego never serves me well at all. Not only does it push me to do things that aren’t on my priority list, it also won’t let me admit when I’ve done something right, or accept a genuine compliment when it’s given to me. Even when I am complimented on whatever it is my ego talked me into doing, it is unimpressed.

Example
Other person: “You’re doing a great job on this project that you didn’t have time for but managed to fit into your schedule anyway. In fact, you’ve put far more effort into it than we expected. I can’t believe how much you can get done.”

Morgan’s body: {tremulous smile before collapsing}
Morgan’s mind: “Well that’s nice that he noticed, but he’s right, maybe we could spend more time on…”
Morgan’s ego: “You are SO ANNOYING! Don’t you see, if we gave even more we would get even more praise? This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to all the things we could get from this guy. Besides, we all know that we could have worked a lot harder. If he’s impressed now, just wait until he sees what we can really do!”
{Morgan’s mind is stopped from slapping Morgan’s ego in the face by the need to hold on to Morgan’s body to keep her from using the last of her strength to run far, far away}

Morgan’s mind and body: “NO! NEVER AGAIN!”
{long pause}
Morgan’s mind and body: “Er…well, at least not for right now. Right now we’re too tired. Maybe later.”
Morgan’s ego: {evil smile…wiped out by full-on punch in the face by Morgan’s body}