Looking For a Gut Instinct

I was thinking of how intuition comes into play when life happens. There are small every day events that don’t require my full attention, but then there are others, that make my internal organs seize until I can see clear answers, to my usually ever mounting questions. I used to ignore the small sensations when the hairs on my neck would stand on end. I have been guilty of turning my back on my own mind when I felt something was amiss. I found myself listening and trusting people, who said things which if had been played out in any other course, would make me confront their untruth. I used to do that. But somewhere between gullible and paranoia lies the truth. Age has afforded me the gift of knowing where to start looking first.
Our lives, all six of us, in tandem, are going through difficult times, though each is separate and unique. It seems as though it were easier when we all worked toward a common goal, but realistically, I am not one hundred percent sure when that ever happened. I think looking back now, the biggest difference was the younger generation were minor children and had to do as I asked. They had no choice, no opinion to be respected; they were at the whim of what I determined as necessary.
My gut reaction to my new job was one of happiness. My gut reaction to our current situation with Michael’s job moving is, well, the opposite of that. I can’t help but feel as if a terrible mistake were happening. I have tried to ignore these feelings of mistrust, but to no avail. I find myself being very cynical towards those who follow blindly into what my gut tells me is a quagmire. Even so, I know I have to take care of us the only way I know how. My gut can talk all it wants, but it is my heart that has to remain open to my family. It’s a bizarre notion when my gut instincts and my heart are at odds, and an unusual happening, also. Very rarely do I feel myself being torn internally in two different directions, but I feel it now, and have absolutely no idea what to do about it, except get up, go to work and deal with whatever shows up.
As a nurse I had to triage events of the day, all day long. It was my job to prioritize the importance of what happened in what sequence, so it isn’t like this is unfamiliar territory. I will say, however, that at least in nursing there was some rationale to my actions and protocol was used in nearly every instance. This being more of an emotional thing, I find myself having difficulty determining what the protocol should be, or which path to follow. It’s easy to get caught up in the shear emotion of everything and be swept away into uncertainty than make an active decision and find out later that I was dead wrong. Being wrong isn’t unfamiliar either, but it is extremely uncomfortable and I don’t like it one bit.
My house was buzzing this morning, vibrating if you will, with what I can only describe as a negative vibration, like the one I get from hanging onto the lawn mower too long. Michael felt it too, giving me a look quizzical look, as if asking me if I knew why it felt like the sky were falling. I looked back at him, a question mark in my own right, answering him with my famous “I don’t know” face. I had no idea why the entire house felt like it had been infested with negative emotional stinging bees, but it did, as if all the current turmoil had frenzied itself into a swarming cloud heading right for us .
Sure enough, things began to unravel from within. Kids were fighting each other; hostility was heard and felt by anyone who dared peek their head out of their room, while verbal assaults plagued our usually quiet living areas. It was an onslaught of bad from every corner. Having been recovering from a nasty cold and a wicked cough, I felt vulnerable to all the hateful emotion flying around from room to room like a wicked witch. At one point I headed for our bathroom and holed up for a moment to catch my breath. Michael went outside to do yard work in order to find a patch of peace. I found myself trying to calm my aching head and wishing everyone recognize that we are I this together even though “this” is all encompassing. “This” is not the worst thing to happen to us. We are in transition with a very uncertain future, no real plan of attack, trying to ready ourselves for change at a moment’s notice. Our transition has been moving, new position in old company with a new name, change of status from relationship to single, employed to unemployed, in school to graduate, unemployed to new job out of comfort zone, more responsibilities for everybody. “This” is a lot for anyone to take, but it is contained in our small house, so “this” has built up to a fevered frenzy. The good news is we will live. The bad news, as far as some are concerned, is we will live together in this small house going through it. Michael and I at one point sighed in unison. Our shoulders hunched, looked at each other and smiled. I realize the time is coming when my best friend will be splitting his time between me and work, 1200 long miles away. But for now, we have each other. As if choreographed we shrugged and said, “This too shall pass.”
Everyone has since scattered, going to their preferred place of refuge or work. I was thinking how there were days when work was a reprieve for me, when the kids were still young enough to be in the house, but old enough to verbalize their unhappiness. Maybe today they will catch a glimpse of understanding, seeing that maybe all they needed was a moment to catch their own breath and wait for the smoke to clear, though my gut tells me it may take a few years for that to completely sink in.