Comfort

 

I came home from Paul's last Friday. I didn't mean to - it was an accident. I dropped into home before a doctor's appointment and did an hour of cleaning and laundry etc etc, then The Girl got up and said, "Mum, I'm sick." She was too, poor poppet. Fever, sore throat, sinus headache. Well, that was that, wasn't it? I couldn't go home to Paul after having spent all that time in a house where someone was sick, so Paul packed up my stuff and put it on his front verandah and I drove back and fetched it and we waved fondly at each other and blew kisses, and I left him to it.

Unfortunately, I have trouble leaving things alone, and my mind told me lots of stories, such as the one where I was abandoning Paul when he needed me. This was made worse because Paul stopped taking his opiate-based painkillers which were, ironically, giving him terrible gastro-intestinal pain. Without his painkillers he slowed down considerably and was shuffling round like an old man. At the same time he was losing weight. He's lost five kilograms since he left hospital. When his mother saw him she was appalled at how unwell he looked, and of course, I took that on as somehow being my fault as well. Because, you know, Paul's health is my complete responsibility.. my mind was being very insidious.

One of the tenets of Stoicism that I really appreciate is the exhortation to love one's fate: amor fati, a philosophy propounded by Epictetus and embraced by Nietzsche. I struggled with this for a long time, because how can it be a good thing to love the terrible things that happen? How can I love that Paul has cancer? That he has gone through a difficult surgery and is in pain? How can I love that? Many people consider that this particular tenet of Stoicism leaves us only with the option of passive acceptance of our fate. In fact, Stoicism has nothing against change or positive action. What it does say is that reality is reality, and that fighting reality only causes suffering. Paul has cancer. That is a reality I must accept. Any other response - anger, denial, bargaining, guilt - will cause suffering, and the suffering it causes is all in my mind. We only have control over a very limited set of circumstances in our lives, and our locus of greatest control is over our own minds. It is there that I can accept my fate, and therefore avoid suffering. That is why I love my fate. It is that place where I stop battering my head against reality by railing against it, and say, "Well, hello, here you are, my fate, let's get to know you."

Paul has spent many years working through this concept and is way ahead of me. He accepts what comes. Cancer? Ok. In fact, when the surgeon told Paul he had cancer he accepted it so calmly that the surgeon had to double check. "I just told you you had cancer. You do understand that, don't you?" Paul nods and smiles. "It is what it is."

He accepted reality without fighting it. I truly believe this is one of the major reasons he has healed so quickly. He doesn't fight with reality so he doesn't suffer in his mind. A stress-free mind and body heals very quickly.

I am slowly, painfully learning amor fati. When I was parted from Paul last week the first story that springs to my mind is that I am abandoning him. This is not a reflection of reality. This is a crazy story I am telling myself. At least am far enough along in my journey that I recognise that now. I watch that thought float by, I recognise an old, dysfunctional story, the one where I am responsible for everything that happens to those I love, and I say, "Hello, you, you're here again." I think of a new story that reflects the truth. "I am showing my love to Paul by staying away from him when I could be contagious." Then there's the story where Paul is losing weight and it's my fault because I didn't feed him properly. I change that story to, "Paul and I are experimenting with different ways to help him put on weight. We are getting good help and his weight is beginning to increase again." 

Stories are important. Stories where we distort reality because of old, dysfunctional thought patterns, cause us suffering. Stories where fate is out to get us and where we batter against reality, cause us suffering. Stories that reflect what is truly happening and where we simply reflect what is, reduces our suffering. Stoicism calls it amor fati. Buddhism calls it detachment, where we detach our minds from a desired outcome and calmly accept reality. Christianity calls it embracing the Will of God, an acceptance that whatever comes is intended to come, and that good in turn will come of that acceptance.

It is a difficult philosophical concept to make sense of. It is subtle, but the proof is in the pudding. It works. What I accept and bring into the centre of my being assumes less terrifying dimensions than what I reject and turn into some terrifying monster 'out there' somewhere.

Paul is putting on weight. The Girl doesn't have covid and did get through a throat infection and is well again. My mind is not all snarled up with destructive thoughts so I can enjoy kicking through the autumn leaves in the park on the way home from the library. Lots of good things.

Comfort has been on my mind recently. Warmth, hugs, good food, distracting novels, hot showers, carbohydrates. These are all comforting, but the best self-care is to not tell ourselves terrible lies.. but instead to look for the truth.