I haven't used this blog - or any journal, really - since the days of cancer. This place is one I turn to in times of transition, when my thoughts and feelings need sifting and the precision of the written word for complete expression. That is true today, too; but I have also been jonesin' to return to blogging (or maybe vlogging) with the advent of purchasing our first home. These are days that I am going to want to remember - days of kids ages 7, 5, and 3 growing up in the first house that Joshua and I ever bought.
My interior life was an interesting ride today. We closed on our house on Monday, and we knew before purchasing the house that the carpets really need to be replaced. However, replacing flooring is expensive and we don't have the budget for that right now, so we determined to get the carpets cleaned professionally before moving in and just make do until we save up to replace them. There are stains, there is wear and a little tear, but really the worst part - to me - is the furnace filtration lines that have stained the carpets where they meet the baseboards. (No, I am not a carpet guru. I learned the lingo today.) I don't need every stain gone and the carpets looking like new - we can strategically place furniture and a throw rug or two, right? - but the carpet/baseboard thing looks dirty to me. I wanted it clean.
The cleaning company I hired was scheduled to arrive at 8:30 to begin work in the house. I arrived at 8:00 to make sure that the electricity was on. I got a text from the electric company yesterday saying they had turned our power on, but I might need to flip the breakers. When I pulled up in the driveway, the carpet guys were already there. I gave them extra points for not only being prompt, but early. Things were off to a good start. The lead guy was a sweet country gentleman and eager to do the job. Who wants to guess what happened next? I let us into the house and flipped a light switch and... no power. Downstairs to the breaker box. Flip, flip, flip, flip, flip. Nope. No power.
Long story short = one hour on hold/on the phone with the electric company, while the carpet guys waited patiently albeit a tad awkwardly with me in my empty home. Thankfully, the power was restored remotely after the electric company realized they had turned on the power at the wrong address, and the carpet men were able to get to work. While we were waiting, we did a walk-through. They were noncommittal about their ability to do much to improve the appearance of the carpets. When I asked about the dirty areas near the baseboards, the younger of the two said, "Those are furnace filtration lines" in a tone of voice that communicated "No hope for you there, lady."
After the job was complete, I came back to very clean-smelling, pretty-much-the-same-looking carpets. I can't fault the carpet company. They did a thorough job. The bottom line is that the carpets need to be replaced. Here's the rub that got me today though: they couldn't get the dirt out at the baseboards. It's still black where the carpet meets the wall. So here's your carpet lesson for the day: furnace filtration lines are when hot air from the furnace rises through the floors, often at the baseboard line, and the carpet acts as a filter for the air molecules. All of the dust and dirt binds to the carpet fibers as the air passes through. It even sticks to the carpets with an electrical charge! It's exceptionally hard to clean, because it basically needs to be seriously scrubbed and agitated out of the carpet fibers, but that is very difficult to do without damaging the baseboards or walls. Unless you are going to pay a pretty penny for that to be done professionally, no vacuum job as part of a standard carpet cleaning is going to make a difference.
So now you know about furnace filtration lines and their stubborn persistence along baseboards and walls (and doorways where a door has been closed for a long time, apparently). I do have follow-up questions about what this implies about our HVAC duct work. I digress.
When I saw the filtration lines were unimproved after the cleaning, I had a feeling that I can only describe as sinking. At first I thought it was a combination of disappointment, dissatisfaction, and self-recrimination (did we just pay too much money for a service that didn't really do anything?). I called my mom. I called Josh. I talked to friends. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was really bothering me. I came to the conclusion that I thought the company had done a good job; that they went above and beyond with adjusting to the no power issue in order to get the work done for me today as scheduled; and that the carpets needed to be cleaned for sanitary purposes not simply cosmetic, so it was money well spent. As the first line of feelings took a knee, the next line stepped up to fire. The second line was more angry, resentful that we can't afford to replace the carpets instantaneously, fearful and anxious that we will never have enough money to do so. Thankfully in the past decade I have gained a modicum of emotional self-awareness, so I took a curious stance. These second-line emotions easily loaded my train of thought with negative, untrue thought patterns and sent it barrelling down the track of my consciousness. I physically felt my body react with shallower breathing, a tightening in my chest, a faster heart rate. So I took some time to recenter and focus on mindfulness to calm it all down. And I ate chocolate. (Are you enjoying the therapy session I was giving myself today? I should've billed.)
Finally - finally - the root emotion showed itself. Mind you, this process has taken hours of my morning and afternoon. I've had multiple conversations to verbally process my feelings. I've insistently waded into the mire of emotions to try to get to the bottom of the swirl, not settling for the feelings that were the first to make themselves known but weren't the ultimate source. I've been impatient with the needs of my children and incapable of fully engaging in whatever task is at hand while I am digging around in my soul like a pig rooting for truffles. (Isn't this exhausing? You bet your bottom dollar. Why am I doing this then, you might ask? Because I am a nine on the enneagram and figuring out the source of the problem is the fastest route to reestablishing the equilibrium of my inner sanctum. Things cannot proceed well from this point without that happening first. Ignoring the feelings will only lead to trying to numb them by absenting myself, which I have learned is not my best life.)
Shame. Shame showed its humiliated face when I persisted long enough. I felt ashamed that my family and I will be living with soiled carpet by the baseboards and I couldn't fix it.
It feels strange to type that. I feel like anyone reading this would tell me I have nothing to be ashamed of. That's what I would say, had anyone else written those words. And I still haven't figured out what triggered the shame, which is why I'm writing.
I tend to keep a fairly steady head when it comes to socioeconomic perspective in the scope of a broader worldview. By American standards we are firmly middle class; in consideration of the whole of humanity that inhabits the planet, and the extent of poverty in the world, we live in abundance. The assets we do have, our access to healthcare and education, the inherent privilege of being white in America, the upward career mobility that is available to us if we really went full-tilt for it... things that aren't "I get to vacation in Fiji" and are often taken for granted, but in truth are life-shaping factors. I don't pull back to this broader view to dismiss my feelings, but to gain perspective that I consider proper and right. In light of this, I don't tend to spend a lot of time thinking about the things I want that I don't have; instead I try to cultivate gratitude and discover the values that drive my desires and figure out ways to micro-actualize them now instead of just waiting and longing for "the dream thing." All of that to say, the shame I feel isn't related to feeling impoverished in any way. It seems like it has more to do with feeling like people will see this part of my house as dirty - and it's something I can't remedy, which makes me feel vulnerable - and that it will be an aspersion on my character, particularly in the aspect of being lazy - which is a label that got tagged onto my identity somewhere along the way that I hate and fear and feel shamed by.
And I think I have finally brought it full circle. My response to trauma has been a low tolerance of stress, engaging in addictive or numbing/escaping behaviors, and disengaging relationally with others. These coping behaviors are often viewed as lazy: binging on television, neglecting things that need to be tended to while escaping into a novel, not having the "willpower" to overcome addictions, etc. Somewhere along the way, I accepted that assessment of my behaviors and adopted "struggles with laziness" as part of my identity.
Here's the thing though - and this is not just for me, it's for you, too - it's time to reframe not only the way I'm looking at this particular situation, but also at how I'm looking at myself.
First of all, my sister-in-law put it perfectly when she pointed out my "all or nothing" tendencies and encouraged me to view our house as a fixer upper project that will be completed over many years, one step at a time. Hello!! Yes!!
Secondly, people look at other people's lives and make judgments, and sometimes those judgments contain some nugget of truth but mostly they are just assessments made without complete information. Picking them up and putting them on (so easy to do) can be poison.
For me, the nugget of truth is that some of my coping methods are unhealthy (welcome to being human). But the adopted assessment that my behaviors are evidence that I am lazy is damaging and shame-inducing and certainly not true all of the time. How about - I was a little kid who experienced something tragic and my brain helped me cope by finding ways to escape the trauma. The journey now is to grow past those instinctual protective patterns that have become habit, and it is not always easy or quick and making the effort to do so is hard work. How about I add this new tag to my self-assessment: "I am hard-working."
Looking up from my own situation and outward - I know that I am not alone in this sort of thing. Have you had an emotional reaction lately that at its root has risen from shame? If you followed that trail... would it lead to a label tagged onto your identity that makes you ashamed? Shame is such a curious thing. So powerful. Such a shadow. Brene Brown has been such a good resource for me around this topic. Have you seen her research on shame? Look her up, her TED talk especially, if you're unfamiliar.
Thanks for voyaging along on the winding route of Megan's psyche tonight! People sometimes tease me about my intensity and introspection, but I consider it a gift in many ways. Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls... I've always felt the call of the deep, not just into myself, but into Spirit and truth. I just need to make sure I have people who will pull me out to play and laugh and lighten up! It's all a beautiful symphony that we're all in together, with and for one another. I get to be the suspended chord. ;)
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