Ego, Burritos & Holy Water

I have a friend who once explained that our mind, our Ego, can be deflated during moments of great physical strain and/or heavy emotional upset. And I know what he means. Take, for example, the birth of my second child. This kid had a head the size of a watermelon and I pushed like hell for a few hours before he decided he was finally ready to "come on down!"

When I got up to shower, a nurse warned me that I may be shocked when I looked in the mirror. What all that pushing did to my body was cause swelling. My eye lids were bruised, my eye balls were devil red, and my face was beyond puffy, I looked like a friggin' Teletubby!

But what it did to my psyche was leave me very quiet, very empty, very chill. And it was awesome. Now my son's birth wasn't the only time I've experienced the peace of Ego deflation, but it is the strongest example, and this week brought on another of these experiences. From Saturday through Tuesday, I was more psychotic than usual, freaking out and shaking and being more than your average nut job as I tried to prep myself for Dad's surgery.

What I was missing during this nutty state was the warning this same friend gave me, that the Ego is like a snake-in-the-grass, doing push ups while I'm sleeping. It's not something to fear, he assured, but a mental fact of which I needed to be aware. The Ego will return, he said, usually when I least expect it, and then once again, I'd be thrust into making everything about me. Fuck.

But my Auntie Kathleen was driving from Indiana to support Dad and when she picked me up Monday for our 4-hour road trip, she set the tone by asking, "So who's gonna be Thelma?" Sure I was uptight and in knots during surgery, but when he sailed through and Tuesday gave way to Wednesday, I started to feel a peace wrap around me. I'd been scooped up in a Big Dipper of support from my incredible Auntie Kathleen and we had a ball, not at Dad's expense mind you, just laughing and talking and being upbeat, which is exactly what Dad needed.

Yesterday, however, when Kathleen and I were shopping, it began to dawn on me that she was returning to Indiana via Iowa. And I would remain in Rochester without her. Thus began the rising of a Bad Moon. I could almost feel that friggin' Ego about to make everything about Jenny. And who wants to be around that? That kind of soul-suckin' jerkiness does nothing for healing! My dear Auntie left this morning and by lunch, I was sweatin' it, just Dad and I, and we're kinda runnin' outta things to chat about. Then Dad said discharge may be bumped from Monday to Wednesday! WHAT?! (Hear that? It's Jenny, making it all about her.) So by late afternoon, I was ready to cry.

Heading to my hotel's smoking patio, I sat and let it out, all the while, sucking down a cancer stick. "Boo hoo, what am I gonna do?" I knew I needed to find a phone and call someone to help me fight the self-pity. I also knew I needed some AA. But what I got was a spiritual experience. In that crying, I must've been communing with some spiritual force. WHAT?! Yup. I'd returned to my hotel room, phoned my husband and then prepared to hike it to a nearby meeting, when all of a sudden my cell phone rang and it was a couple of pals from college. Turns out they live in a nearby town and would be at my hotel in 5 minutes. JOY!!!

So Marty and Laura tossed me in the back of their car and we enjoyed giant burritos . . .

And we cruised a Sam's Club for 4 cases of Propel water . . .

Strolled through Linens & Things looking for stuff not needed. . .

And finished our outing at a Coldstone . . .

Back at Dad's bedside by 9:30, it dawned on me, "Holy shit! I think I just had me a miracle!" Not that this week and Dad's recovery hasn't been miraculous enough, but in my time of shallow need, self-centered and absorbed, a beam of love and laughter was sent.

So as I sit and sip from a water bottle found during yesterday's shopping with Auntie, I've decided I'm gonna keep trudging that spiritual path. And keep drinking the good stuff. . .