Heart-Shaped Rocks

If you slow something down enough, you can watch it without feeling any emotion at all. All you see is a stream of details, the little pieces that make up a moment. That is more or less what I noticed as I watched my husband of 25 years drive away. My heightened awareness fascinated me, and I wanted to hover in that untroubled state, indulging only my curiosity. I had the idea that if I could maintain that detachment, making choices would become effortless. But it was like trying to stay in a dream after you realized you were dreaming. Just the effort of thinking about it distorts it, and even as you try to reconstruct it, you feel it disintegrating. The magical detachment was dissipating. I looked out the window waiting to see if some powerful sentiment would swoop in and fill the void. The seconds ticked on. Good so far. I loved the way thoughts seemed to drift into my awareness slowly and rhythmically. Emotions fanned out before me like a hand of cards. It dawned on me that, at that pace, I could make deliberate choices and influence my outcomes. Good. A subtle hint of eagerness wafted into my awareness. Perhaps I had crossed that fine line between anxiety and excitement. On the one hand, I was relieved that my circumstance lacked the melodrama of a teenage break-up. On the other hand, there had been something exciting about having a girlfriend grab diet cokes and tissues, and rush to my side to comfort me as I cried over the yearbook. I knew Ree or Weez would drop whatever they were doing to be with me through this ordeal, but that option did not appeal. I was pleased to recognize both my reluctance and a kind of inclination. A compelling idea was brewing in my mind. Viktor Frankl said, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” If I could pull it off on my own, make it through that night without self pity, somehow some way, there would be a great payoff—and bragging rights to my success. A shadow of doubt crossed my mind as I considered that my ambition might be just a spike of bravado; it might be followed by a desperate craving for sympathy later on. Not good. Over the course of my life there had been plenty of times when my positive attitude alone had altered outcomes. Okay, obviously my formula was not infallible. That situation warranted something more than a cheerful tone; it called for more substantive props. I needed a plan, and I wanted to communicate while I was in that open frame of mind. Given my circumstance, not feeling like a victim was a big deal, and I wanted to share my success with someone. From counseling I knew that by sharing my feelings I could re-experience them, and self-empowerment was a feeling I definitely wanted to prolong. I did not want my wave of optimism to collapse and slosh me up on the beach of self-pity. I had already put Ree on standby for the occasion, so I knew I could phone her on my slightest whim. When I called, she answered on the first ring. I skipped the usual pleasantries, and dove straight in with my progress report. Ree set constraints on our conversation: no reviewing what led to the break-up (“If only...”), no jumping too far ahead (“Will I ever find true love?”), and no mentioning Seth (my vanished husband). I agreed to her terms. Reviewing what had happened would probably have taken me down a path of negative emotions. That was a critical night for me; I needed to stay present. Eckhart Tolle said, “Your power is in the now.” That would be my mantra. Analysis is not in the now, nor is speculation. Ree and I brainstormed ways I could flood myself with pleasing sensations, distract myself, and keep my focus positive. I kept thinking of water analogies to describe my experience—beach, wave, storm. (I liked that tears were not part of it.) I thought of planning a “date” with myself for that night, considering what would comfort and distract me.