Читать книгу How Did I Get Here?: Navigating the unexpected turns in love and life - Barbara Angelis De - Страница 19

Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards; they simply unveil them to the eyes of men. Silently and imperceptibly, as we wake or sleep, we grow strong or weak; and at last some crisis shows what we have become. —Brooke Foss Westcott

The night after your twentieth wedding anniversary party, your husband suddenly announces that he is leaving you for another woman … Your doctor discovers a clogged artery in your heart during a routine checkup and schedules you for immediate open-heart surgery … Your wife confesses that she’s addicted to prescription painkillers and needs to be admitted to rehab … Your business partner of eight years breaks down and tells you that that he badly mismanaged the company assets, and that you will need to declare bankruptcy.

You have just had a wake-up call.

A wake-up call is pushy. It’s rude. It is a kick in the butt that sends us flying before it knocks us down. It is neither gentle, nor subtle, nor unhurried. Rather, it is demanding and dramatic, forcing us to pay attention to our lives, our relationships, and our own inner selves in a way nothing else does. It is stubborn, compelling us to face what we wish we could avoid, insisting that we deal with those things we are reluctant even to imagine, let alone endure.

If a turning point is a moment when we find ourselves standing at a crossroads, a wake-up call feels more as if we have been hit by a truck and are lying on the ground in a state of shock.

If a turning point is a big storm that creates some dust and disorder, a wake-up call is the tornado that slams into our life and appears to blow everything to smithereens.

Transitions and turning points can be gradual, unfolding over time, but wake-up calls do not afford us this luxury. They often like to wrap themselves in shocks and surprises when they show up at our door. The term unexpected doesn’t begin to describe how it feels when we are suddenly jolted out of our old reality, confronted with circumstances, challenges and issues we hoped we would never have to face. One moment you’re going about your business, and suddenly you look up and to your utter astonishment, everything has changed. You can’t believe how you’re feeling or where you are. You have no memory of any kind of conscious transition. “What happened?” you ask yourself in disbelief. “I don’t remember being aware that I was even heading in this direction.”

Wake-up calls are never on our itinerary. So when we find ourselves in the emotionally wrenching situations to which they inevitably deliver us, we cannot help but cry out: “How did I get here?” Even if we believe that eventually we will learn, grow and improve our lives because of the wake-up call, still, when it first assaults us, the experience is painful, frightening and emotionally overwhelming. My dear friend and fellow author Lorin Roche calls this “being shattered awake.” It is the kind of awakening that we do not readily welcome.

Years ago, when the man I loved at the time suddenly announced that our relationship of ten years was over and he was leaving me, I totally fell apart. For weeks on end, all I could do was weep—actually, howling was more like it. I was in a state of complete shock, incapable at the time of figuring out what had happened or why I, of all people, hadn’t seen this coming. One night, unable to sleep, I turned on the television and began watching a show about men and women who claimed to have been abducted by aliens from outer space. They all shared similar stories: one minute they were driving in their car or asleep in their bed, and the next thing they knew they were on an alien craft undergoing some horrible medical procedure. I remember listening to their descriptions and suddenly realizing that this was exactly how I felt—as if I’d been kidnapped, mysteriously abducted from my old life, only to wake up in some nightmare. And all I wanted to do was to go back home.

This is why wake-up calls can almost have a surreal, dreamlike quality to them. They feel more like a transportation than a transition, as if you’ve been whisked from one reality to another. At first we may even be in a state of denial, unable to grasp what has occurred. “This can’t be happening,” we whisper to ourselves in disbelief, but it is happening. And now, where you are is unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

These kinds of wake-up calls—extreme loss, illness, accidents or tragedy—wake us up to our deepest questions about the meaning of life, our faith, our values, about who we are at the very core of our soul. Others act as warnings, forcing us to focus on situations we have been ignoring that need our attention—the marriage that will end unless we take immediate action, the disease that will progress unless we start taking care of our body. But all wake-up calls have one thing in common: they test who we are and reveal us to ourselves like nothing else can.

I cannot write about wake-up calls without telling you the story of my friend Dr. Glenn Wollman. For thirty years, Glenn has been a highly respected specialist in emergency medicine, and the Regional Chief Medical Director for several emergency departments in California as well as the Director of Integrative Medicine at a large medical center. When I first met Glenn, I was impressed by his knowledge of both Western and Eastern medicine, and by his holistic approach to health and well-being. In our many conversations, it became clear to me that although Glenn loved his profession and was completely dedicated to it, he felt frustrated that he wasn’t able to really work with patients to focus more on preventive health care.

During the next two years, I watched Glenn’s dissatisfaction grow worse and worse. “I need to make a big shift,” he’d confess with a sigh. The question was how. Glenn was very loyal and committed to those with whom he worked, and the idea of letting them down was unthinkable to him. By his own admission, Glenn was also a cautious, precise and analytical person. This was part of why he was such a good doctor, but it didn’t make it easy for him to radically transform his life. The thought of setting out on his own after so many years in institutional settings was daunting. Whenever I got together with Glenn, this was one of the main topics—was Glenn ever going to make the change he needed to make in order to be truly fulfilled?

Late one night, my phone rang. It was my friend Marilyn. “Glenn has been in a terrible car accident,” she told me. He’d been driving his sports car on the freeway and was getting ready to exit when a car smashed into him from behind at seventy miles an hour, and then sped off. Miraculously, he wasn’t killed, although he had to be cut out of his demolished car. Glenn sustained very serious injuries—his back was broken in two places, and he fractured his ankle. For almost a month, he was unable to move. Slowly, with rest and rehabilitation, his body began to heal, although it would never be completely normal again.

The first time I saw Glenn after his accident, he could barely walk, stand or even sit, and he was in horrible pain. I recalled so many other conversations in which we’d talked about his life, his desire to make a drastic change, and the lack of clarity he felt about what to do. Now the decision had been made for him. Glenn’s doctors told him what he already realized—he could never work in emergency medicine again, due to its intense physical demands. His career as he had known it was over. “I did say I wanted some time off to re-create my life,” he joked. But beneath the humor, we all knew the truth. Glenn had been hit by a dramatic wake-up call. In the span of a few seconds his entire life had changed, unexpectedly, radically and irrevocably.

A year and a half has passed since Glenn’s accident. During that time, he’s been writing a book, developing holistic health and integrative care models that can be used by hospitals and physicians, and producing a series of CD’s that offer relaxation and meditation techniques for waking and sleeping set to his beautiful playing of the Native American flute. I just saw Glenn a few nights ago, and he proudly handed me his first CD. I’ve never seen him look happier.

There are many ways to look at Glenn’s story. Some might say that the accident was just that—an accident—and that it was purely coincidental that Glenn had been contemplating leaving emergency medicine. A more psychospiritual view would argue that perhaps if Glenn had taken the initiative to make the changes he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been “forced” to change by the universe. Another theory would explain that this was just the way Glenn’s life was meant to unfold, and that he was already feeling the change coming but wasn’t sure what it was going to be. I’ve often teased Glenn that he was hit by his destiny, and he agrees.

What is most important is not that the accident happened, but what he has done with it since it happened: Glenn is using his wake-up call to renew and re-create himself in every sense of the word. He has discovered the gift hidden within the crisis and is enthusiastically and gratefully unwrapping it. The healer is healing himself.