"What if there isn't a plan?"

Yael Wolfe posed this question in her recent piece about Why Childless Women Inspire Superstitious Sentiment. "What if there isn't a plan?" Perhaps because I don't come from a religious background, and I'm not surrounded by religious people or even in a religious society, as I mentioned back in World Childless Week, I don't think about "God's Plan" or believe that there is one. But as I wrote then, the "it wasn't meant to be" sentiment is still strong. Yael Wolfe's articles echoes a lot of the sentiments in my post, but was perhaps kinder to people who say these things than I was! It's worth reading. Or see Loribeth's excellent synopsis and selected quotes here.

I highlight it again here because the idea that there is no plan, and that everything is random, does not worry me as Wolfe concludes it worries so many others who just want certainty in their lives. When I accepted that everything was random, that nothing "happens for a reason" it was a moment of true relief and a lifting of the burden of guilt. Because I did feel guilt that I must have done something wrong to not be able to have children, an accomplishment that so many others - less deserving others as I know now - manage, or perhaps have imposed on them against their will. 

Realising that that guilt was so misplaced, and dispensing with it, gave me a freedom and lightness and yes, uncertainty, that I would always take over the assurance that everything happened to me for a reason. It is so much easier to show compassion to myself and acceptance of others, to try not to judge, and to be the best that I can be within my power and circumstances. Uncertainty and randomness has taught me gratitude, mindfulness, and appreciation for the little things (as well as the big). It has helped me stop worrying as much about future events. It has stopped me focusing on the what-ifs, because that is so pointless, and given me a clarity that has made life better, and easier. 

Embrace the uncertainty! It will set you free.

No Kidding 2020 Project: Day 16 - Experience

I’m not sure I’ve ever been particularly good at staying in the present. When I was a kid, I would always get excited about things that were coming up, was keen to grow up and escape and see the world. When I was at school I wanted to be at university. When I was at university I couldn’t wait to be working. When I started working, I couldn’t wait for the weekend. Ha! (Kinda kidding on that one.) When I’m at home, I can’t wait to be travelling. And of course, I am sure you can all relate to the idea that when I was trying to conceive, I kept anticipating the pregnancy and the parenthood.

Don’t get me wrong. Anticipation is one of the great joys of life. But there’s a risk that when we focus on the anticipation, on the upcoming event, we forget to live the life we have. And so when we enter our No Kidding childless lives on a permanent, no-looking-back basis, it can be a shock. Because we are suddenly forced into a new reality, and we wonder, "what do we have to look forward to now?"

This thought reminds me of a former infertility blogger who commented some years ago that with the birth of her last child, her “major life events” were now over, and she only had “endings”  (eg funerals, departure of her children, etc) in front of her. I’ve always intended posting* about this, and so today I’m going to combine it with my next theme for this No Kidding 2020 project. 

For each person, our major life events are different. I remember being saddened (and a bit shocked) that this blogger wasn’t, at the time, anticipating exciting events in her future, independently or with her husband or her children as they grew, that these did not qualify as “major life events” in her mind, or that they only represented loss. And that also, in her mind, I didn’t have any happy or life-changing major life events ahead of me. It made me think about life and its major events, and what they are. For some it might be family/partner-related, or a career event, or career change, or travel, or something completely different.

The thing is that they are never going to be the same, depending on who we are. Some will be positive, and some will be negative, and others that we perceive as negative – such as a miscarriage or ectopic pregnancy or not being able to have children – can have a positive outcome. My whole Gifts of Infertility Series focuses on these positive outcomes.

They also don't have to be a major one-off event! (The "Next Big Thing" doesn't have to be big or a thing!) It can be a significant period - of living, learning, simply experiencing life that will stay with you. I found the key was to learn to remind myself - regularly! - to experience what I was going through. Sometimes that means feeling the pain, and grieving. Another time it might be just enjoying the fleeting moments, recognising that these are healing. As I’ve talked about in this series, once I showed up and learned to surrender and appreciate and accept, I could focus on the living. I let go of the what-ifs, and just began to experience my life as it was. When I was able to do this, I found myself in a period of life when I enjoyed a deep contentment. I was in a healthy place, and my life was well-balanced with different sources of satisfying work and volunteer roles, and I was travelling and connecting with people. Circumstances have changed somewhat now, but I look back on that period with real satisfaction. And try to take lessons from it.

In recent years, as our life has changed, I’ve found myself doing a mix of anticipation of travel, and just trying to enjoy my life in between. But I’ve always enjoyed being able to look forward to my next travel adventures. But when COVID-19 reared its ugly head, any thoughts of travel in the next year (or two or three) have had to be dispelled. I haven’t let myself hope for an early# resolution. That’s made life a lot easier. And I’ve been able to focus on my current experience, to live in the moment. And there’s a release and freedom in that. Let go, and just Experience. I recommend it .

Notes:

* I plan on following up with a list of my own “major life events.”

# I’m currently hoping for a resolution by late 2022. But I’m not focusing on that. 

In a No Kidding aside, I have to confess that one of the things I took comfort from in lockdown was the fact that the overwhelming factor in all our lives was COVID-19, and the change in our lives and our countries. We shared the fear for our futures, and felt the solidarity. We were, all, together in this, even if some of us had it a lot easier than others. It was bigger than all of us. As a childless No Kidding woman, it felt good to simply experience this along with everyone else. It felt especially good not to feel so isolated from the rest of society, even as we were all self-isolating.

 

More Perfect Moments

I’m writing this before I leave, and it will be posted when I’m almost on my way home. I’m hoping I have a number of Perfect Moments on this trip, and if I do, that I will either jot them down here (if I have time to post from afar) or that I can tell you about them when I get home. Today for example, I will be at the beach, and a common “perfect moment” for me is when I’m in the tropics, floating in the sea or a pool with my eyes closed, weightless, free of worries and – temporarily – responsibilities, enjoying a calm, peaceful moment. I was thinking about that today, hoping that there will be plenty of moments of swimming-related freedom in my future. I may not be able to wear a bikini anymore, but that’s not going to stop me entering the water!

In the meantime though, it’s the perfect moment to repost this Perfect Moment post, written almost seven years ago. I needed to read it, because I had forgotten the joy of this situation, and recently focused a little more on the inconvenience. Here is the heart of the post:

A lot of my posts on A Separate Life are about perfect moments. I like to enjoy the little things in life, to celebrate the joy when I feel it, to be "mindful" and in the moment when I can.

Just now, I had a tiny Perfect Moment. I'm listening to a regular programme on national radio. And three panellists were chit-chatting about life. Turns out all three are parents. And the winter school holiday (vacation for the North Americans) break is about to start this weekend, for two weeks. All three of them were sighing and bemoaning the fact that they had to deal with school holidays. Not one of them sounded as if they were looking forward to it.

"So my perfect moment was what?" you ask.

I am smiling, realising that in my No Kidding Life, I never have to groan at the thought of school holidays. I can be thrilled by the lighter traffic in the morning. I have an excuse to avoid the big malls (not my favourite places anyway), and the child-friendly cafes (I do anyway). I don't have to travel during school holidays. (In fact, I avoid it like the plague - higher airfares and screaming kids = torture in a tin tube). And best of all? I never have to feel guilty that I'm groaning at the thought of the school holidays.

May you all have a Perfect Moment today.

Gifts of Infertility Series - #24 – Self-Discovery

It’s been a long time since I wrote a post on this series, not because I’ve struggled to find a topic to write about, but because I wanted to make the most of the last two items in this series, and before now didn't quite feel I could commit to this.

The 24^th in my list of the Gifts of Infertility is really a summation of many of the other items. It is one of the biggest gifts of the heartbreak that came from infertility and loss. It is self-discovery, and hasn’t just helped me deal with infertility, but has spread into all aspects of my life.

Self-discovery and personal growth often come out of difficult times. Sure, there are plenty of people who go through difficult times and come out of it just as selfish as they were before, just as some people come out feeling much more afraid, less trusting, and more self-focused than they were before this. But after a long time, I certainly recognise the benefits of the personal growth that resulted from of those difficult years.

Self-discovery does not mean that we have all the answers. I think that self-discovery means that we are more open to the realities of who we are, and can face up to both our talents and our flaws.

I have a lot of flaws. I think I’m aware of most of them, as I admit them to myself even if I won’t always admit them to others – just in case they haven’t noticed (yes, I live in hope). What I’ve learned though is that it doesn’t help me if I berate myself over them. I’ve learned to try to change them if I can, to face them – as I faced my shyness when I left on a student exchange when I was 17 – as issues that need to be dealt with or lived with, rather than to judge myself because of these issues.

Self-discovery came to me when I allowed myself to grieve. It came to me when I allowed myself to be vulnerable, to really feel emotions, rather than tamp them down. It came to me when I needed to think about what made me happy, after spending a long time of being very sad. It came to me when I needed to look at what I had, because looking at what I didn’t have wasn’t doing me any good. It came to me when I showed self-compassion, and so could face my flaws without terrible guilt and self-hatred and shame. It came to me when I was as kind to myself as I would be to friends and family, when I stopped beating myself up.

Self-discovery came to me when I saw what worked, and was honest about what didn’t. It came to me when I dropped the judgement, and tried to be productive instead. It came to me when I learned more about others, and that helped me learn more about myself. Self-discovery came to me through hard work and tears. It came to me through love and compassion. It came to me from inside myself, and from learning from other wise women who were walking alongside me and helping me.

Self-discovery is a continuing journey, applicable in all aspects of my life. It is a journey that can still bring disappointment in myself, and could easily be halted by shame. But if I don’t allow the shame to take hold again, if I can commit to the honesty required to get past it, self-discovery can also deliver satisfaction and joy and confidence and growth. The best thing about it is that it can banish a lot of fear, and that results in self-imposed burdens tumble from my shoulders. That freedom has allowed me to embrace the future, whatever it might bring. Self-discovery truly is one of the ongoing gifts of infertility.

Healing with art

I occasionally talk about mindfulness, and how noticing the small things in life helped pull me out of grief, gave fleeting pleasure, and reassured me that I would feel joy again.  This renewed attention to detail - to a beautiful sight, or the warmth of the sun on my back, or the thrill of seeing a tui in my tree - made me want to reproduce what I was seeing or the things that carried fond memories, and so I took up painting. I had never been artistic, though I enjoy and appreciate the visual arts, architecture, interior design, and photography, so was keen to see what I could do.

It turned out that I really enjoyed it, not so much for what I managed to produce (which was far from skilful!), but the way I could totally focus on it, how quickly time would pass, and how my mind would quiet, and troubles temporarily disappear. Having read some of the research on adult colouring books, meditation, and mindfulness, I can see why it helped me at the time.

Recently, I've found myself experimenting with colouring (read my #Microblog Mondays post over on A Separate Life to learn how, and to see an example). It's easier and less pressured than painting, as all I have to do is colour between the lines, yet it has the same beneficial results. Five years ago I would never have believed I'd be suggesting this, but if you're feeling stressed or overwhelmed, or just needs something calming in your day, you should give it a try.