Thank You Obadiah

I have a Facebook friend, Obadiah, who posted this cartoon a few days ago.  It’s a visual representation of how people handle problems.  Two men, stuck in the same position, take two different paths.  One sits and ponders his misfortune, while the other tries something new, working to improve his lot in life.  It reminded me of me. Sometimes I’m a sitter and sometimes I’m a digger.  I need to be a digger every day.

When the kids were growing up, Ruth preached the concept of choices.  She contended that we all have them and the choices we make determine our lot in life.  In their youth, they grew tired of her words.  They knew what she was going to say before she said it.  With age comes wisdom, and somewhere along the way, they decided she was right.  I knew it all along.

After Ruth’s accident I plowed through a myriad of business issues.  I updated financial accounts, closed some, opened new ones, moved money, had my attorney update my legal documents, making sure things were in order for my kids.  That part of my life is in good shape.  The personal issues need attention.

I promised myself I’d take things slowly.  I wouldn’t make any quick decisions for fear of making poor ones.  I decided maintaining the status quo was better than moving too quickly.  Now, I think standing still may be just as bad.

I reconnected with my shrink last week and discussed my current status.  We’ve only met three times, once in November, once in December, and then last week.  The best part of discussing issues with her is I unload everything I’m thinking, and she passes no judgment.  She asks questions as needed but lets me speak my peace.   The practical side of me knows she’s getting paid to listen, so I unload.  I leave some of my burdens with her and walk away feeling a bit better.

For me, it’s kind of like getting a massage for my brain.  I don’t get many full body massages, but when I do, I tell my massage therapist to go full bore.  I don’t want him to play paddy cake paddy cake with my muscles. Don’t’ hold back.  I want to know I was there when I leave. That’s how my relationship with my shrink is developing.

As last week’s session drew to a close, I told my shrink of Obadiah’s Facebook message.  She listened attentively and asked why it spoke to me.  When I finished my explanation, she asked if I’d ever heard of “An Autobiography in Five Chapters.”  I said, “No.”, and her fingers danced across her cell phone in search of it.  She read it to me.  I think Obadiah’s Facebook post and Portia Nelson’s poem have a lot in common.

An Autobiography in Five Chapters
by Portia Nelson

Chapter 1
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in. I am lost….I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I fall in….it’s a habit…but my eyes are open.
I know where I am. It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5
I walk down a different street.

I’m living in Chapter Three today.  I’m not sure how or when I arrived, but I recognize my predicament.  If it’s going to change, I have to change it.  Doing the same thing day after day isn’t working for me.  If I want to walk around the hole, or take a different street, I have to keep digging like the man in Obadiah’s Facebook cartoon.

Should you find yourself stuck somewhere in life, I suggest you ponder the cartoon or the poem.   Perhaps they’ll speak to you too.