I’ve been very triggered lately. Some of the things that I’m seeing online are making me feel very worried. I’ve worked so hard to try to unravel this through writing and I actually did write a post last week and posted it here. I was too nervous to share it on Facebook because I’m quite certain that it was written out of fear. I think the reason I’m triggered is that I am such a worrier. I’m worried my parents will get the virus. I’m worried we’ve found another thing to divide us. I’m worried that if we don’t all follow the directions to a tee that this will last way longer than need be. I’m worried about all things wrong with the world.

If sobriety has taught me anything it’s that the path is the purpose. When I started out on my quest to stop drinking I felt certain that once I hit the big milestone of one year of sobriety that all of my problems would go away and I would spend the rest of my life riding away on a magic unicorn of enlightenment. I would have reached the highest achievement and finally arrive!

To my disappointment, that’s not what happened. Instead, I learned that there is no “arriving” and that I still had a lifetime of learning to do. I thought about parenting and remembered back to the early days when I thought that I would one day reach a place of parenting bliss. Once they slept through the nights, once they ate solids, once they stopped teething, once they started walking, once they started preschool, things would get easier and I would finally be free to accept the serenity of never-ending peace.

Again, the reality set in, and once each milestone was met there was another challenge waiting around the corner begging me to please provide some attention and care. It’s like covering up your gray hair at the roots. For a week about a week, you’re successful at hiding the fact that your hair is actually not naturally blonde, black, or brown but then a ray of sun hits your head in the right spot and there they are again, gray strands poking through.

Once I hit one year sober I learned that, while I had survived not drinking, I still had other challenges. Sobriety made room for other things to rise to the surface and then it was time to work on those. Each time I progressed, I was faced with another boulder blocking my view to that place that I wanted to go. The place where everything is all good.

That place doesn’t exist.

The work, the learning, the time put in, the brief moments of “aha”, the tears shed, and the joy that comes from the weirdest of places is the purpose of life. That’s it. We can either choose to view this as the amazing miracle that it is or we can continue to search.

Pema Chödrön is a Buddhist nun with whom I’ve been reading and learning from a lot lately. She says “Hope and Fear is a feeling with two sides. As long as there’s one, there’s always the other. In a world with hope and fear we always have to change the channel, change the temperature, change the music, because something is getting uneasy, something is getting restless, something is beginning to hurt, and we keep looking for alternatives.”

So, right now with everything that is going on with the Coronavirus I’m triggered by the constant opinions that we must change it all right away so that we will be better. We brought into this pandemic all of our baggage. The baggage that we used booze, food, shopping, isolation, obsessively cleaning, perfectionism, racism, and every other self-destructive behavior that we hoped in some way would help us cope. Since those behaviors are not likely serving us we are desperately hoping for everything to just go back to “normal.”

We don’t remember how much we complained about normal. We’ve already forgotten that we were tired, stressed, depressed, and angry there too. We’re holding onto to hope that we will arrive. We’re scared that there may be suffering and more pain. We have fear and we have hope.

By we, I mean me. I’m hoping that no more lives are lost and I hope that we can transition to a place of peace. A place where everyone stops complaining. A place where everyone does their part. A place where we feel settled and people are happy again. But I already know through my experience that the place I’m looking for does not exist. By holding onto hope and fear I am missing those tiny pockets where peace does wash over my body via a sunrise, a snuggle, a happy family giggle, a downward dog, writing, a nice text from a friend, another day my parents don’t get Coronavirus. In other words, the riches of my life.

I worry that each day we spend hoping and fearing that we are missing the point of living. We are looking too far back or too far forward and the miracle of the moment is gone. Even if the moment is shitty, uncomfortable, and scary.

I’ve spent several days trying to unpack why my heart is beating fast and why my palms are so sweaty when there’s not really much going on. I realize that I’m refusing to accept the current state and instead I’m stuck in a cycle fearing and hoping, fearing and hoping. I must remember that I actually have arrived somewhere and that happens to be my life and this very moment. It’s just that, sometimes, it’s the moment of being triggered by someone else’s strong opinion and that’s ok. For you, it might be something else. Either way, welcome.