Fresh Starts Often Come Disguised

Three ways to cope

Wouldn’t it be lovely if the life you dreamed of drifted gently down from the heavens into your waiting hands? We could even turn it into a ballet. It’s all about a fresh start after some devastating circumstances. Let’s call it Theresa Receives Her Dreams.

After marveling at her flat tummy and tugging at a wedgie, our prima ballerina glides out onto the stage. A few strands of hair have escaped the Dippity Doo that’s lacquered her bun in place, but who cares? A hush falls over the audience as the music hints at the moment of grandeur about to unfold.

The music crescendos.

Down wafts The Dream. It’s wrapped in a fluffy, uh, fluff. It is transcendent. Ethereal.

The audience gasps at the sheer beauty as it alights in Theresa’s open hands. The Dream is fulfilled. Blessed be the name of the Lord!

The boobless ballerina is pirouetting as she lifts The Dream heavenward, not unlike Clara’s delight in receiving the Nutcracker in the famous Christmas ballet.

More gasps, this time at the exquisite beauty. The corps de ballet, AKA the Dream Corps, are celebrating the sacred moment, circling Theresa en pointe.

Uh oh. What’s that rattle? Being professional, the ballet company carries on despite the disquietude. Save for a slight flicker of WTH that flashes over a few faces, one wouldn’t even notice the disruption.

And then, right as the male has hoisted the stick of gum shaped Theresa over his head in soaring celebration, the kerfuffle breaks out again. This time, louder.

Bewildered, all eyes look up. It’s not a dream coming down now. It’s the damn lighting.

It lands on Theresa, who is flattened in yet new ways. Amid a flurry of tutus, the curtains fall. Is there a doctor in the house?

Scene, cut, roll credits.

Wouldn’t it be nice if dreams unfolded like this? Well, except for the lighting failure, that is. We’re told if we work hard enough, have a vision board, pray, quit eating gluten, you too can have your dream life.

Um. I’ve been around the sun for almost 59 years now and I have observed more exceptions than to these beliefs than successes. The refrain I hear often, especially from those of us with more than a few decades behind us, is this:

This is NOT how things were supposed to work out. OR

What the hell happened? Or

Things were going great until (insert the drama and trauma here)…

What’s uber maddening about this is the fact there always seems to be someone who seems to be living the dream. And social media magnifies their golden-haired status. They are quick to remind us that if we too work hard and focus, the world can be your oyster.

And of course- marketers would have us believe it is because of moral failings that we’re not living our Best Life Now! (I’m looking at you with a jaded eye, Joel Osteen.)

Oh, I don’t mean to be such a curmudgeon. Nor do I want to diminish the power of hard work, goal setting, and dream casting.

But life happens. Divorce happens. Innocent children die of awful things. Houses go down in flames. Cancer happens. Severe weather can wipe out an entire town. Loved ones can inflict unimaginable suffering through their choices.

Suffering is part of life. But we are told if we are suffering, somewhere the fault is within. We also accuse ourselves with the same lies. If you only I had tried harder at the marriage. If I ate more kale, I wouldn’t have gotten breast cancer. I should have bought stock in WXY company in the 90s. (I hate kale btw. And trust me, you would hate me if you were around me after I ate kale. Let’s just leave it at that.)

Those voices are not helpful. When the broken record of self-denigration, victim speak and anger from when I compare myself to others, is playing, it leads me into a pit of despair.

But just what the hell do you do when the shut-off notice for the power bill has arrived, your kid has landed in the clink with a DUI, and the doctor’s office calls you and insists that you come in face to face to discuss your imaging report.

Yeah, living the dream baby. Oh, the car broke down too.

How do you see a fresh start when all is a smoking ruin?

Here’s a shocking truth: fresh starts are often wrapped in difficulty.

Welcome to paradox, baby girl.

Life is about cycles. Turn, turn, turn as the Byrds put it. There is joy and there is suffering. There are open doors, and doors that slam shut in your face. (And please don’t tell me that asinine, “When God closes a door, he opens a window” drivel. I mean seriously? What the HELL does that mean?)

But yet, fresh starts often come through the unwelcomed. The calamitous. Through no fault of your own.

How do you cope? I have found first is acceptance of the situation. Warring against it and all the wishing in the world is not going to change that which is out of your control.

It is time for self-love and compassion. It is time to recognize that suffering is indeed part of life.

Next, recognize the impermanence of it all. Life is a series of seasons and cycles. Daffodils poking up through the snow announce spring after a long winter.

But eventually the petals fade and daffys retreat into the soil where it will prepare for the next season..

I am so sorry for your suffering but I promise you, it won’t last forever.

This next thing is especially hard. Ask for help.

ASK FOR HELP. (I’m yelling it for those in the back of the room.)

Asking for help triggers shame for many people. I shouldn’t need the help. People are too busy with their own stuff. I can figure it out.

But this is where life and connection happens.

This has been a HUGE revelation for me. A breast cancer diagnosis flattened me. I realized I could ask for help or slip under the water, face down-no bubbles.

As I reflect back on the year, it was the help that I received from so many kept me going. From the GoFundMe to words of encouragement, prayers, cards, texts, and emails.

This would not have happened if I didn’t humble myself and ask for support.

This magic of asking for help was repeated when I found myself with a storage unit full of stuff and limited options for getting it moved into my tiny house.

I asked for help.

And the help arrived in spades. Within 2 hours, the helper angels had the storage unit emptied and tucked into my new digs.

After a season of difficulty, Fresh Starts DO happen if we learn to accept what is, understand it won’t last, and reach out for help.

How about you? Leave a comment below and tell me how you found a fresh start!

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my writing in a small way, feel free to contribute to my wishlist.

Want more? Become a Medium member for only $5/month. Read every story from me (and thousands of other writers on Medium) Psssst, I will receive a small commission if you sign up through my link.