Why Me? Why Not You?

Something a little girl said into the evening softness brought back memories of an old pattern and how perspectives can shift things.

There was a humbling moment ten years ago, when heartbreak brought me to my knees. I could not think, nor access any space within to birth any notion on what to do. It was all I could do to get up each day and function, as I was stripped back to basics. The terror for me was the inability to have a single idea of what to do to change the situation, as all the ‘life tools’ that experience had taught me thus far failed to spark any response.

It’s natural to question ‘Why me?’ when things happen, as our brains are hard-wired to protect us. When something sharp happens, we seek to find reasons and an explanation (in a protective way) to stop it from happening again. It’s also natural to assume that things happen ‘to’ us. It’s easy to go down the blame, or ‘re-run’, route too. If he/she hadn’t done this, or that, said this, or that. If only I had done this, or that, said this or that. The simple truth is that it is ‘done; it is how it is. I was then faced with the uncomfortable reality on the choices I had made that had contributed to what unfolded.

My inner operating system helps me to keep flowing, usually, if I can think. I’m an ideas girl, and inactivity, of mind or body, used to take me way out of my comfort zone. When life slams my back up against the wall, I think my way out and match the ideas with action. It’s been my saving grace on many occasions, or so I thought.

In the middle of one dark night, I emailed a friend and asked to borrow his beloved dog for a few days. I was desperate, and he heard my cry. The combination of this gentle animal’s company and my daily routine gifted me an anchor. His habit of being beside me, no matter what I was doing, was comforting, and I would talk to him and, in that safe space, hear myself. We took many walks together, and he gifted me the grace to just be.

Ideas flowed again, and I started to try new things on for ‘fit’. The greatest gift, was the fresh insights that came from that still space. I stopped running, trying to fix things as I went along. I was still for the first time in years, and that’s where the major inner changes occurred.

All my adult life, I had been a rescuer, and finally, life had managed to make itself heard, and I stopped. It was time to come to my own rescue.

The past elicits wisdom, yet it can become the lens through which we view life, completely distorting the reality of how things are now.

It was mid-winter in England, and we had been beset by ice and snow, and record cold temperatures had been recorded here and across the world. Things settled enough for the Isle of Man ferry to run, and I remember seeing her sail through the gentle falling sleet into port, with barely a ripple on the water.

There is a natural cycle that is never-ending as the branches wave in the winds of Autumn. All the old leaves fall, and if you look closely enough, the signs of new buds are coming. The tree roots go way down into the ground, yet the branches, buds, blossoms, fruit and leaves change throughout each year. Occasionally, the tree breaks and uproots when the storms rage.

I had been given pause to ponder what happens when we don’t let our old leaves drop. Hanging on to the past, putting additional weight and pressure on our branches and in time choking the promise of life out of any new buds. There is a vulnerability in letting the leaves go, as our branches are left bare and exposed with every single knot, scar, wrinkle, dent and bump there for all who care to see. Carrying old leaves will give us a tree that resembles the old tree, and the added weight can bend the branches beyond anything recognisable, as we shelter behind old foliage.

It’s painful to let the wind blow through our bare branches and feel the weather. Yet the wisdom in letting the rain in nourishes roots, allows the wind to strengthen our foundation and lets the light in to nurture new buds. Sometimes the cry for simplicity can rage through the wildest of storms, and our ‘Why me?’ is echoed with the duality of ‘Why not you?’

Back to one evening this week. Tim and I shared the need to get outside after our workday had ended. Tim put the ladder up against the front of the house and washed the windows and cleared the gutters, and I set about weeding and deadheading on the rockery.

One of the little ones who ride around here dropped her bike at the railings and started to chat. She was a bit quieter than usual, so I paused and asked if she was alright. None of her friends were in to play with her, and she then softly shared that one of the lads had moved house the day before. She had my full attention now, as this lad was her closest friend in our street. They usually rode around together, and only the day before, I’d seen the two of them sitting in the shade of a parked car, making something, with their heads bent close together in concentration.

My heart went out to her, and I said how hard that must be and asked how she felt. She answered,

‘It’s alright. They’ve moved to a house near the hospital, where his mum works. So, it’s better because his mum can walk to work now.’

Not one shred of self-pity for the hours and evenings of the summer holidays ahead of her without him, just compassion for her friend and his family.

We chatted some more about friendship, and without me asking, she fell into step beside me, and we weeded together. She’s brilliant at it, as she carefully pulled all the roots out and handed each plant to me. Her thoughts and perspective have stayed with me, hence the walk down memory lane. My curiosity was awakened ten years ago, and I broke a very old pattern, which has gifted me with different perspectives when life goes awry.

This little one is naturally doing it at eight years old.

🩷