Learning to accept that ‘it is as it is’

As far back as I can remember I loved the written word. As young child, when mom and dad announced “lights out,” I was the kid who covertly read by flashlight under the covers.

I started writing stories when I was in kindergarten and according to Mom, my teacher was impressed. (Could just be a Mom thing!) At one time I fancied myself a neurotic self-styled poet. (I thought all poets had to be neurotic.) Nowadays, reading my old poetry makes me cringe. But come to think of it, Emily Dickenson didn’t become a household word until after her death.

I always have an idea or two running through my head. When I can’t hack it anymore, I make a bee-line to my computer to empty my brain. A spillage of gibberish gushes forth; but, magically, it somehow comes together. Writing proves to be a healthy outlet for my pent-up emotions or waxing on about how I view the game of life. Either way, I love what I do— and bonus: I make some cash.

One caveat, however: There is an unhealthy side to storytelling that is universal. You know, those plausible stories we tell ourselves to make sense of our lives. I refer to these stories as America’s second-favorite pastime.

How many gals remember your first love — the “one”? If you’re like me you’ve had several “ones.” Close your eyes and remember your first date with him. It was great, right? You barely slept that night because your brain was in tizzy thinking about the design of your wedding gown and choosing bridesmaids. Perhaps you dated him a few times then suddenly he pulled back.

More than likely, while you were telling yourself this wonderful story, your crush had a different story in mind. Early on I discovered that guys have different codes, different signals, different attitudes and meanings attached to their stories. And perhaps, the surge of endorphins coursing through our bodies blinded us to this simple truth: We were not listening to what our crush was saying to us.

It had everything to do with the fact that the “happily ever after” relationship did not even exist. The story we told ourselves was pure fantasy. And based on that fantasy, we got hurt because our expectations were not met. Sound familiar?

And for sure, making up romantic “happily ever after” stories does not just apply to the younger generation; gals and guys of a certain age are just as vulnerable. There are numerous dating sites for the over-50 crowd. Maybe we gals don’t want the white gown (hardly fitting!) but nevertheless gals and guys alike never outgrow the need to love and to be loved.

We go to the doctor for our annual checkup, or maybe we have a complaint. Our doctor orders a few tests — and if you are like me, waiting for the test results can be anxiety producing. A tiny seed of doubt begins sprouting in back of our minds. We think: Well, maybe this or maybe that, and before we know it, the “maybes are having babies.” Our thoughts start running amuck and the story begins. C’mon be honest, how many times have you visualized yourself on the operating table or stoically sitting in the doctor’s office surrounded by your family receiving the bad news.

We wait a week for that dreaded call from the doctor — the slowest week of our lives. Every time the phone rings, we check the caller ID with fear and trembling. Finally, with a sweaty hands and a drumbeat of panic in our throat, we call the doctor’s office. We are told that the results are in; however, they need to be signed off by said doctor. The story turns into a living nightmare. We may wonder if all our affairs are in order — and worse yet, we may feel that certain death is imminent!

Finally the call: “Ceil, this is Dr……., you are fine.”

“Fine? Nothing wrong?”

“No, I wasn’t expecting anything, were you?”

“Ah, no, Doc. Thanks for the call.”

Like most parents, when it came to my sons, I had certain expectations along with the usual fears and dreads. We want our kids to be happy. We don’t want them to travel down the road of perdition that some of us did and suffer the same anguish. So we tell ourselves stories about how we want their lives to be. Their lives — imagine?

I wanted my first born, Greg, to become a priest — an Episcopal priest. (They can marry.) My dream was based on Greg being an acolyte when he was a kid. Greg was and still is a very spiritual man. ( He gets that from his dad.) He is good and kind, and respects the dignity of every person he meets. Greg is poet — a non-neurotic excellent poet and has thriving environmental consulting business in California.

I urged my second born, Jeff, to become a lawyer. He has a quick wit and can argue a point effectively — without ever losing his cool. In college he majored in natural resources and became “one with nature” (also a gift from his dad.) Today, Jeff is a successful artist and works in Oregon for the U.S. Forest Service as a forest service planner.

Although my stories didn’t become their truth, my sons grew into all I dreamed for them and more. My longest-held story was that my sons would move back east where we would live the years together. I’ve let that story go. One could argue that I could move out west to be closer to them — and I get the logic.

That being said, I choose to remain independent and live in a place that I call “paradise found.” And besides, air travel makes the distance a non-issue. But methinks my sons have their own stories regarding their not so traditional mom. Ah, how the tables have turned!

There are many scenarios that lend themselves to storytelling. Perhaps, the boss ignores us. Instead of thinking she might have had a bad day, or he had a fight with his wife, we take it personally. We start to weave a scary yarn: Yikes! We are on the verge of being fired. We may end up homeless and…and… And now, we are having a bad day! Why do we do it? Why torture ourselves?

The mind is tricky and can create stories that we perceive as reality — and all for naught. I’ve heard it said that we humans are usually too busy rehashing the past and rehearsing the future and making up stories that have no basis in truth. Well, folks, if we insist on believing or subscribing to everything we think, we are riding the express train to unhappiness.

Author and spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle writes: “The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but the thoughts you have about them. Separate them from the situation which is always neutral. It is as it is.”

“It is as it is.”

Simple words, difficult concept.

Celia Iannelli is a native New Yorker enjoying a second career — in ‘retirement’ — as a freelance writer. She lives in Jamesport.