Walking through Fog
Sagittarius 2 // just do the Next Right Thing
Wintery morning greetings to you! I’m watching a cotton candy sky out my window this morning. The trees are desolate and bare, but birds still visit the feeders. Tufted titmouse are my favorites. The air is cold and dry and I can’t wear enough chapstick, but the twinkle lights are glowing and Charlie Brown Christmas is the soundtrack. I’m looking forward to a busy holiday weekend, but hoping to build in some pockets of rest. I hope you’re reading this in one of those magical pockets of time too.
This week I had to make the drive to Michigan where my youngest child was born. It’s about an hour from where we live but the hospital has some of the specialists who help manage her care and I needed to learn a new skill under the supervision of her surgeon.
My youngest child was born with a disability. When she was first born I did a lot of public processing on social media and a local paper I wrote for at the time. It was really healing to write about the upending of my life. But now, nearly eight years later, I write about it much less. This is partly because I’ve done a lot of inner work, and partly because I desperately want to respect her privacy.
We are halfway through Sagittarius season, only days away from the winter solstice. This fire sign is full of optimism and strength which you can easily see embodied in the sign of the archer. And the card for this middle decan is the 9 of Wands. In this card we see a person who is battle-worn. They are bandaged and leaning on one wand for support, but they are also attentive. The battle isn’t over.
When I look at this card I see myself. My child’s birth was a Before and After. And the journey of her diagnosis and delivery was a lesson in precarity. It’s a lesson that I am still learning. And it is a lesson that sometimes leaves me bandaged, wizened, and vigilant.
As we drove north, I felt a familiar swirling heaviness in my chest. The swirling is my body’s way of gearing up for being a support to her medical trauma, and being simultaneously gentle with my own. Also the fears of learning a new medical skill that I never signed up for, the remembered fears of her birth, the fears of not being or doing or knowing enough to support her as she grows. In other words, fear of the unknown.
The heaviness in my chest slowly settled in my gut as I made the drive and there were even markers along that highway that my brain and body recognized from our countless appointments. There’s the watertower where my heart starts to race. There’s the bridge where my stomach gets tense. Here is the exit that means we are just 11 minutes away. Thankfully this time she seems more calm (sometimes the drive is just me reassuring her for 45 minutes) and even sings along to her new favorite Christmas song - the Muppet’s 12 Days of Christmas1.
There is a difference between hyper-vigilance and keeping vigil. I’m learning slowly through reflection and also through work with my therapist that I’ve spent quite a few years of my life in a hyper-vigilant state. When your body experiences trauma it makes sense that it would be on the lookout for more danger - it wants to keep you safe. It wants to survive! But the toll of constantly being alert to danger is great too. It makes me feel powerless, it’s exhausting, it steals my joy, and it keeps me from being the peaceful presence that I want to be. Keeping vigil on the other hand is a state of preparedness. It is a clear-eyed understanding of the situation, but with a steady courage to face what comes.
The soldier in the 9 of wands is worn down, but also stronger than she realizes. Her previous battles have left her tired, but wiser! She has surrounded herself with the other wands, creating a protective boundary around herself. She’s FILLED UP HER TOOLBOX2. If I illustrated a version of this card, I’d have our soldier standing on the battlefield in her comfiest clothes, with her earbuds playing her favorite guided meditation, and a hot water bottle under her arm.
I signed up for
advent calendar this year and it has been a delight to listen to her short reflections each day as I sip coffee and doodle in my sketchbook. She wrote this week on fog and the paradox of uncertainty and liberation. Fog can be terrifying, but it can also be utterly magical! Fog is nature’s symbolism for fear of the unknown. Anna asked “What if we let go of some of the expectation, some of our craving for clarity?”
The thing about life with a disability is that there is no one-right-way to manage care and live a good life. Each person has their own limitations and values and needs. There is no road map for how to best care for my kid (side note: this is true of all parenting) but it is especially challenging when you’re making decisions about medications or surgery. It is truly like walking through a fog. But like the 9 of Wands, I have nearly a decade of experience under my belt! I have faced things I never anticipated and came out on the other side - maybe with some bandages - but also stronger and more prepared. My mantra is just do the Next Right Thing.
We arrived at our appointment and ended up having one of the most successful visits. Like following glimmers in the fog, we made our way together. We held hands in the waiting room. I had a list of questions for the surgeon saved on my phone. I learned the new task I needed to learn, and no tears were shed. By either of us.
Advent is often described as a time of vigilance. Last week we kept watch for Hope, this week for Peace. Both qualities seem elusive these days. Yet, even in the darkening nights of mid-winter we light candles and string twinkle lights to remind ourselves that the sun will return. We walk through the dark fog, keeping watch for glimmers in the forest, for sparks of inspiration, for a trace of resilience. Maybe our soldier is doing the same and maybe I can keep watch too.
I wanted to take one quick moment to say thank you to all you Readers out there. This little project reached 100 subscribers this week! It’s a small, but exciting milestone for me and I appreciate each of you! I’m looking forward to 2024 and what themes I might explore & books I might read. I am also considering opening up a paid subscription option in the new year, but wanted to let you know up front that paid & free subscribers will have access to the same content! I just want to give the opportunity to those who would like to financially support my work.
I also forgot to mention that I was invited to write a guest post for the lovely about Autonomy as Spiritual Practice. It was super fun and of course I recommended a few books. Check it out here:
Cheers to the next few weeks of controlled chaos and as my favorite 7 year-old would say, don’t forget to “Deck the halls with LOTS OF JOLLY!”
For some reason this version doesn’t make me want to scream and run out of the room.
This is my pick though:
We don’t need gift guides here, just a Big Ol’ List of How I Regulated My Nervous System in 2023. Thanks, DL.
This piece really resonates with a path I’m on with my daughter. We had a doctor’s appointment 9 days ago that has given me momentary reprieve. It clarified the immediate path, which has given me room to rest and gather myself. But we haven’t reached the end of the journey, and I’m looking back warily over the past month, at how anxiety fully swept me off my feet and I was attempting to mother from the swirl of dread. Now I’m gathering inner resources for the road ahead, so I can keep my feet on the ground, even when the path feels less certain.
"There is a difference between hyper-vigilance and keeping vigil." Well said. 💖💖💖