My Year of Hopefulness - Seeing

Today I had my annual eye exam, and with it came the dilation of my eyes rendering my near vision pretty useless for a few hours. In that time, I was unable to read, write, study for my GRE, use my computer, find phone numbers on my phone, clean my apartment, or watch TV. All I could do was get myself home, and then I could sit, and wait for my vision to return. This is the stillness Brian was talking about yesterday. And so, I waited and while I was waiting, I allowed some feelings to surface.

Sadness:
While I was getting ready for my Junior Achievement class on Wednesday night, I couldn't find any office supplies in my apartment. I used to have a large box of them and they were lost in the fire. I sighed deeply for all the little things that I had to leave behind.

Shortly after the fire, I stopped dating someone I really liked. I wanted to take the relationship up a notch, and he wanted to let it go. He didn't show up for me when I needed him most. I tried to be friends with him for a bit and quickly realized that our friendship made me unhappy. And so, I released him and have had very little contact with him in the past few months. It's sad to let someone go, especially someone whom you enjoyed being with. I miss him, or at least I miss the person I thought he was going to be in my life. And I'm sad that he doesn't miss me.

After Thanksgiving, I would have brought my dog, Sebastian, back from Florida and he would have been running around my apartment now. We would have been playing in the park together, going for walks, taking naps, and having a grand old time together. I'm sad that we lost him too soon, that he never had a chance to be in New York with me.

Anger:
I'm really angry that a woman set my old apartment building on fire, and that as a result I almost lost my life and lost most of my belongings. I'm angry that a number of people in my life didn't understand how traumatic that loss was. One friend commented "why are you so upset about it? You got all new stuff." We're not friends any more.

The guy I was dating spent the week after the fire giving me daily percentages of how far along the road to recovery I was, while also telling me that I really couldn't be angry at the woman who set my building on fire. (Brian's response to this was "Um, whose side is he on?") And a week later he decided it would be a good idea to tell me that he "wasn't sure of his feelings for me." I listened patiently to his concerns, even though all I wanted to do was kick him in the shins and walk away. Since I had found a new apartment, he felt I was now able to listen to his tales of emotional unavailability. Seriously? I saw him a few more times after that, and eventually I did walk away though I refrained from kicking him in the shins.

I'm angry at myself that I didn't bring Sebastian to New York sooner. He likely would have developed the same condition that caused us to put him down, though maybe a better vet here could have helped him. I wish he was here, and I'm so angry that I didn't get a chance to hug him one more time and tell him how much I loved him.

Very soon after letting these feelings surface, and going through a few tissues in the process, my vision returned. Logically, I know that the dilation drops wore off though it signified something more than that, too. This time of being physically unable to see let me sit and see things that I have been busy burying. I do feel lighter now, and am able to see a bit more hope peeking through the clouds.

My Year of Hopefulness - Cathedral of Saint John the Divine

Yesterday, I found myself leaving the emergency room of St. Luke's Hospital. I had developed a "subconjunctival hemorrhage" and a slight amount of "petechiae". This is a fancy way of saying a very small blood vessel popped in my left eye and I had a few tiny red freckles around both of my eyes. I was panicked that I was experiencing the beginning of a very serious medical condition. Turns out that all of my blood work and diagnostic tests came back completely normal. I'll just look a little weird for a week or so.

I called my mom to update her and let her know that nothing was seriously wrong with me. I wandered down the street, into the children's sculpture garden of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. As I was explaining to my mom that I was just fine, I found myself tearing up. Maybe they were tears of relief, or fear, or maybe it was frustration with the week I had just finished. Over the past few days I have discovered many more of my friends have lost their jobs. I'm beginning to wonder how I've been so fortunate to escape that situation in this economy. I work very hard, though not any harder than my friends who have been let go from their positions. I'm beginning to think that luck has a lot to do with it.

I sat in that sculpture garden for about 20 minutes and had a good cry. The sun had come out, the wind was blowing, and I felt lost. I'm worried about the uncertainty we're all facing, despite the fact that I have managed uncertainty so many times before. I feel like the ground is shifting beneath our economy, and there is no sign of it settling down any time soon. I was angry for my friends who have been let go from their jobs - hard working, talented people who were seen as a line item on a company's excel spreadsheet, an expense rather than a resource and an investment. I felt shaken.

I had never really looked at that giant sculpture next to Saint John the Divine. It's a collaborative piece of work based on Noah's Ark and the triumph of good over evil. The Cathedral has been closed for some time for renovations and recently re-opened. I was weary from my hospital visit though felt drawn into that incredible cathedral. I wandered in and it was nearly empty. The choir was practicing and I felt drawn to sit in the center of the space, letting that beautiful music wrap around me like a warm hug. Though I am not a religious person, I felt that God was very close to me at that moment, that he knew what I was going through, and wanted to help.

I let my eyes tear up again, I was cemented to that seat, transfixed by the music. After a little while I got up and walked around the edge of the cathedral, stopping to look at each of the small chapels. The light shone through them so brilliantly. I had never seen stained glass that colorful and perfect. By the time the choir stopped, I got to The Poet's Corner, a small area that pays tributes to literary greats such as Mark Twain, Herman Melville, and Gertrude Stein. They each had their names and birth date engraved into a stone, along with a quote they famously wrote.

One quote particularly caught my attention. Theodore Roethke said, "I learn by going where I have to go." I thought about this quote all the way home. It reminded me that I have places I need to be, where I've committed to be, and there are things for me to learn there and to take somewhere else. Today, I just need to do what I have to do. The acts of hope and faith are a daily process. Just keep showing up.

The image above can be found here.