When Bubbles Burst

Driving home from the city Saturday night my thoughts fell into bubbles.

No, not of the soap, gum or bath kind.

These bubbles were all about the worlds we live in, or created for ourselves.

 

Bubbles keep us comfortable.

Protect us against overwhelm.

Bring hyper-awareness to what’s inside.

And for the good or bad,

allow us to continue holding stories to see the world a particular way whether true or not.

 

Bubbles allow us to believe in a reality that doesn’t exist.

Except for ourselves, and sometimes a few others.

In order to see reality for what it is, there’s no getting around bubbles need to be burst.

That’s exactly what happened last week.

 

When my dad died in an accident thirteen years ago, he became frozen in time at 67.

Fourteen years earlier from that, cancer turned Mom eternally 49.

Aging parents weren’t part of my world anymore.

Understand and empathize for sure.

But not from living front line trenches experience, always remaining at least once removed from the goings on.

 

Saturday, however, was a game changer visiting our now elderly old neighbors who over 20 years who have become more like family.

 

Far too many weeks filled with intentions to call or visit slipped quietly into months.

Yeah, we should have called, but life got in the way.

I was too busy caught up in keeping what was important in my little world the centre of attention.

 

For as much as the stresses of caring for an ill aging partner could be imagined,

or the frustrations of being the ill aging partner,

seeing both in action was a moment of

P.O.P.

S.P.L.A.T.

P.O.W.

 

Love In Action

 

This. is. reality.

Their reality.

The reality of so many others.

And could have been mine directly.

My parents would have been closing in on this old now.

 

Day in and day out is what love looks like in action, but the toll is no less hard.

Distance was a kind bubble I allowed to happen.

Being told everything is okay, doesn’t make it so.

I didn’t hear.

I did, but I didn’t.

 

Regrets?

You bet.

Guilty?

No.

Growth and change can emerge from regret, but getting stuck happens too easily with guilt.

 

I could have been there.

Nothing in my world came close to being as critical.

Not in hindsight.

Time is short, and even shorter now.

 

Bubbles are great.

Until they keep us apart.

Keep us from seeing what is rather than what we want it to be.

Life outside the bubble gets a little messy and inconvenient at times.

But without the false walls, Life also gets deeper and richer in ways we could not know otherwise.

 

Have you ever experienced being in a bubble around an aspect of your life?

 

 

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Lorraine Watson - on rustic porch

chief nudging officer

Lorraine

Crazy for cats and potatoes, Lorraine's insatiable curiosity of Life leads her to question, explore and push beyond the box. A self-professed "left-brained creative big picture" type, she has an intuitive knack for seeing beyond and beneath first appearances while at the same time nerding out on the details. Most of all she sees and holds others in their highest until they can see it for themselves.

3 Comments

  1. Pearl R. Meaker on November 25, 2015 at 12:41 pm

    I have increasingly lived my life in a bubble – maybe several bubbles, one each for different aspects of life. When one pops, it’s more like it gets sucked into one of the other bubbles so that I have fewer and fewer places. I feel my life is shrinking – and I know it is.

    I’m weary and leery of reaching out, investing myself, only to have the relationship (or what-have-you) wither or the project/venture fail.

    Only to have myself wither and fail. Again.

    Most of my life has been shadowed (like Damocles) by waiting for the sword to fall – though unlike his, mine does fall, over and over.

    Often, I set this all up myself. Not knowingly, not at first at least.

    For instance: I need to work on my book. Really. I’m supposed to have it to my publisher the end of March – and that’s already an extension. I’ve avoided it all day today. I’ve done anything else, even to just rambling around my house. Not much to ramble around as it’s less that 1,000 square feet.

    I’m afraid that it’s not as good as the second book and I’ll fail as an author. I’m so very tired of failing.

    I’m afraid it’ll be great, but I won’t have enough money to do another one. (I split costs 50/50 with my publisher.) Not be able to do any more and disappoint my readers = failing again.

    I’m afraid of having to keep up with, of having to spread my focus thin for, all the promotion and marketing and social networking and newslettering and . . . whatever else someone comes up with for me to do to help my books sell.

    And – I just plain have a history of procrastinating.

    But things look so nice looking through the iridescent walls of my bubbles. Like rose-colored glasses.

    Yeah. I need to puncture most of them. But I don’t want to have to figure out living without them.

    Too many more things to focus on and then nothing gets focused on and then nothing gets done or solved or worked through.

    I like blowing soap bubbles better. They are beautiful, intriguing and fun. And no pressure. They make no demands and no one cares how well you do it.

    They just oo and ah at the pretty bubbles.



    • Lorraine on November 28, 2015 at 2:42 pm

      Pearl, I love your openness and honesty to express what I’ve felt at times, and I’m sure many others. Thank you for giving voice to them. Your resilience and resolve runs deep.

      In mulling on what you’ve said, my thoughts wandered into wondering if there is something etched into a creative’s DNA that steers towards perpetual feelings of failure and self-doubt. After all, creating to put something out there, not just creating for ourselves, means how good we are and success are largely determined by the opinions of others. We’re always steeling ourselves for the big flop. Yet in not putting our work out there, we flop in a far more profound, Life suppressing way. Feels like a no win situation when I’ve been smack dab in the middle of it.

      If we all keep facing failure time and time again, perhaps the greater take away we’re supposed to get is not to succeed by avoiding failure, but to succeed by not caring about failure. Heck, can you imagine if we were brought up to purposefully fail repeatedly and celebrate what we experience and learn. Reminds me of someone once said there are no statues of people who had the easy road.

      Now to find some soap bubbles to fill up the room and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching them.



  2. Mary on December 8, 2015 at 3:20 pm

    Hi Lorraine,

    Thanks for sharing this. So true.

    “Growth and change can emerge from regret, but getting stuck happens too easily with guilt”



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