THE ORDEAL

My wish at this point of my journey is to overcome obstacles which have become enemies, like apathy, keeping me from living my best life.  My greatest fear is that I will not find the strength or know-how to overcome and take up the sword to sleigh that enemy.

It’s time. I cannot remain complacent about this apathy that’s been putting a grip on me. This enemy seems invisible but I can see her. “Apathetic Annie”! Contrary to her languorous state of being, she is always running ahead of me to set up yet another blockade that keeps me from participating in my own life. Well, now she’s run into a cave. A cave I was warned would be in my path ahead. A place where I must face a yet unknown ordeal. It sits, mouth wide open, emitting a low rhythmic sound like the sound of a white noise machine, but very low in volume. The air just inside is heavy and a bit foggy. How do I enter the cave sitting before me? I know “Apathetic Annie” is waiting inside for me. What danger am I facing? What changes or miracle will manifest?  

I hesitate to face her. I am frozen. Like a bearded dragon, staring toward the cave, contemplating everything around me before I make a move. With my bearded dragon head held high, I rise up on my hind legs, rush into the cave and take up a stance just inside the threshold.

I look into the darkness before me. Light starts to enter from cracks in the ceiling. I see my nemesis sitting on a big pile of comfy floor pillows, encircled with putrid smoke from her cigarette, laughing at me – a combination of “Mrs.Robinson” and “Cruella De Vil”. She points to pillows near her and commands me to sit there. The smoke makes me nauseous and this sets me off. “That’s It! I’ve had it with you, you fucking primadonna!!!”

I rush over in a rage  to start kicking and throwing the pillows all around. I swipe at “Apathetic Annie’s” face to grab the disgusting cigarette from her dry, cracked lips and throw it out the entrance of the cave. She cowers. Then she laughs nervously and throws dismissive and mocking looks toward me. I vanquish her to the corner by grabbing her and pushing her there. I lock her in a dog crate. 

I step back from the crated, pathetic, defeated enemy. Taking a pause, I say “Now where was I before all this shit happened to me so many months ago? Oh right! I was on a road trip. The road trip of my life. Figuring out how to live with Parkinson’s and not let it constrain my dreams and hope for a good life. I have lost my map though. Where is it? Nevermind, I’ll find it. First I just have to get moving.” I throw the crate containing the defeated “Apathetic Annie” into the back of my van. She is coming with me because I know, at least for now, that she is still a part of me. But I will now have control over her. I’ll learn to live with her.

THE REWARD

I’ve just broken through a wall. A wall of fears and limitations. I have escaped the cave that lured me inside and held me frozen in time and life. As I drive my escape vehicle away, I watch the site of my battle and victory fade in the rear view mirror. I also see my vanquished enemy in the back of my van, locked in the dog crate I threw her into. She’s sitting in there, staring at nothing. She can just wait there. Indefinitely.  

Every nerve in my body is firing. My heart is pumping so fast, and my eyes feel as if they are seeing more clearly than they have in years. I stop to take it all in because I can’t quite believe what I just did.  I think that my new medication, Mirapex, may be helping. It may be a magic item I picked up in the cave! But in this moment, I feel more like it’s strength and confidence that were always there at my discretion. I just needed a new attitude. Now I can feel confident that I am responsible for making this breakthrough possible. Though truthfully, supportive family, friends and Day One cohorts have been there all along to support me too. I was just too lost in my own mind to see where I belonged – on the road of hope, following a map that brings me to the realization that I can do more than survive. I can endure and be strong when needed. That’s good, because I know I have more challenges ahead.  Apathetic Annie isn’t the only passenger traveling with me. Doubtful Dennis, Worrisome Wanda,  and “I’m too tired” Tucker are sitting in the passenger seats of my van, coming along for the ride. They always have something to say. Always complaining. I need to figure out how to live with them too. They regularly test me. They can slow me down, irritate me and sometimes make me give up for the day. For now they are quiet and I get to be productive! I will have days that I don’t feel as strong or confident as I do at this moment. As long as I can recall how I came through the ordeal that freed me, I can do it again. 

I am learning that life is bigger than the daily, often menial, work of my life. MY LIFE means more. I have been in a foggy, often dark place and it took Parkinson’s to make me find the light within me.  So much has changed for the better in the last week that I don’t know what my wish is now. Nor my fear. I suppose they are one in the same. To stay in the light and never go into the dark again. Bring on the daily tasks of life and test me with more trauma… I can do this! So get back in that van, turn on some inspiring music and let’s go!

THE ROAD BACK

My van is parked in the shade of some trees at a rest stop. The pack of troublesome emotions are asleep inside the van. I’m standing against the hood of my van talking to my friend Sue on the phone. I called her because we struggle with similar feelings, so I asked her if she would join my journey and help guide me. Sue quietly said “No, we each have to follow our own journey. We have to focus on our own goals. ” She said that we can’t share goals and that she can’t find the answers I seek. I have to do that work. She said she’d always be available to listen and support me with encouragement. I understood. It made me nervous to think about being on my own with a van full of my enemies – the emotions that easily get the best of me – but onward we go.

Where? Back home to my Ordinary World. Except there will be a new definition of that world and I will move through it differently than before. When I arrive back home, I want to introduce my family to the rapscallion group of emotions that have been the key disruptors to managing my everyday life. I want my family and friends to know how real and tough they are because they are formidable opponents who will keep on challenging me and knocking me down. 

That is my intent. So I get back on the road. It’s quiet at first. I feel good about how I’m able to co-exsist with these harsh emotions. I start to think of my kids. I try to think if I have learned anything that can finally help me get them organized to launch.  My mind is searching for an answer but it keeps searching like a spinning circle on a lagging internet connection. 

Oh no! My peaceful reprieve is over. Worrisome Wanda awakens and starts hounding me about the kids.  “How are they going to survive when you’re gone, Amy? Your daughter can’t work. What’s your son going to do with his life? Where are they going to get money, How are they going to live?” I tell her to stop… just stop! I tell her that things will be better when we get home. Doubtful Dennis chimes in with his whiney voice, repeatedly saying “I don’t know, I just don’t know. You’ve tried and failed at this so many times before. I doubt it’ll be any different.”
Oh great! You two have been complaining so loudly that you woke up “I’m too tired” Tucker. He adds his complaints about how sleeping in the van isn’t restful and he feels worse now. He also points out that my kids also have fatigue and I needed to remember that this is also holding them back. “When are we going to get there? Can we stop at a hotel, so I can get some real sleep?!”, he begs.

Then, without missing a beat, Apathetic Annie’s voice floats in from the back of the van and hushes everyone for the moment. I’ve been shaking my head this whole time while watching in the rear view mirror and listening to this cacophony. But then Annie interjects, as if to take control, “Who the fuck cares?! Why should it matter that your kids don’t have daily living skills? When you die, you won’t be around to watch or worry. So, really, who cares?” 

Fuck you, Annie!!!

I pull the van over in a fit of rage. I yell at Dennis, Wanda and Tucker to get out. I pull Annie out of the back, still locked in the dog crate.I throw her into a bank of ice and snow alongside the road. I scream at all of them to shut up and let me think. I start walking in circles with my fists pounding my chest, my thighs and my head. “I should just abandon you all right here. Why do I keep you creeps with me?!” The answer?  “I know, you will always be a part of me. I have to learn to live with you.”

Fine! Everyone gets back in the van. I fill it up with gasoline then tell my despicable travel companions to wait while I go inside to get some snacks. I go down the aisle with all the chips and turn to the shelf to pick something. I can’t. Why am I so flustered and stuck?!
I see someone standing in the middle of the aisle looking perplexed and almost frantic. They introduce themselves, “Hi, I’m Indecisive Izzy”. They seem to disappear, but then I realize it was my reflection in the glass door. Wonderful. Another creepy passenger. 

I pay for the snacks then start walking back to the van. I see a man chatting with my soulless entourage. I say “Hello” and he turns around revealing a warm smile.  He said “You’re travel companions were telling me all about your journey. I have also been on a Hero’s Journey and am on my way back to my Ordinary World.  He is all suited up with hiking gear and a backpack, so I assume he’s traveling by foot and camping along the way. I asked him if he’d like to ride along with me. That is, if the clown car components can behave themselves. He smiled at me again and said he thought there was hope for them. Hope for me to learn how to live with them. I looked into his eyes and smiled back at him with a nod of agreement. I said “Thank you,… I don’t know your name… I’m Amy”. He said, I’m very happy to meet you. My name is Darryl.” 

RESURRECTION

My van has taken on a couple of new passengers, Indecisive Izzy and my new friend Darryl, and we are out on the road again. We are on our way back to the “Ordinary World”.

It’s starting to feel as if the speed of my van is slowing down on its own and even pushing against some invisible force. I am feeling more and more nervous about bringing my assembly of subversive emotions back to my “Ordinary World”. My body is rigid, but I’m fidgety inside. What I call “nervy”. My mind is trying to picture how to re-integrate these wretched emotions into my fresh and new “Ordinary World”. But I’ve got nothing. I’m not exactly frozen, but definitely blank. Like a deer caught in headlights. I desperately feel the need to not react with exasperation when I have to deal with the personal business of my everyday life. Especially when my kids tap me for instructions all the time about how to manage the personal business of their everyday lives.

Feeling numb and indecisive, I ask my new travel mate, “Darryl, which way do you want to go?” He offered that we just drive for a while and not think about the destination. He said, “Maybe we’ll find someplace that just feels like we are supposed to be there.” Then he asked me why I am bringing these dark and troublesome emotions back with me. I explain that I feel it’s because they will always be on reserve, in my mind. I am trying to accept  them as I move forward but keep them in check . They don’t intimidate me anymore. Well, not as much. I can throw shit back in their faces now without hesitation. They know I will, too!
“What about you, Darryl?” Darryl then shares the story of his journey with me. He says he is also feeling nervous about returning to the “Ordinary World”. He had a strong mentor and genie supporting him. He thought he was good to go but he learned something about his genie that rocked the foundation of their relationship. Darryl explains, “This is why I’m traveling alone for now.” Then he adds, “You may not like your lot of emotions in this van with you, but at least they are honest about who they are.” I let that sink in and ponder, “Then what do I do with them?” “I don’t want to keep struggling with them. When they are present and sucking out my energy, there is no room for positive emotions.” Darryl suggested, “I know where we can go! I have a friend near here who might just give us the inspiration needed to connect us to the answers we seek. His name is Kermit.” I agree and say “Alright, sounds good”.  Darryl then offered, “I’ve got a song we can listen to on the way. Kermit sings it. I think you’ll find it might help you with your current dilemma.” The song “Rainbow Connection” * plays…

“Who said that every wish

Would be heard and answered

When wished on the morning star?

Somebody thought of that

And someone believed it

Look what it’s done so far

What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing

And what do we think we might see?

Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers and me”

“That was just what I needed to hear! Thank you.” We arrive at a split in the road. “Which way do we go?” I asked. My menagerie of emotions start voicing, “Where are we now?”, “Why are we here?” and some other tactless complaints. We follow the road  to the right. It narrows and ends at a clearing in the trees. There’s a small meadow and a creek, and a “welcome” sign. We all got out of the van. Doubtful Dan and Indecisive Izzy off load Apathetic Annie in her dog crate and set her on the ground where the rest of us are standing and looking around. In the distance, beyond the meadow, we see a shadow of a figure moving toward us.

It’s Kermit. He walks quietly up to us. He and Darryl give each other a warm hug. I am filled with wonderment as I observe them greeting each other. There is something special about Kermit that jumps out to me right away. Beyond the fact that he is a frog that is. A talking frog.  Kermit extended both of his arms with his hands open to greet me. He took both of my hands in his and said, “I’ve been expecting you.” “You have?” I think.  “Yes. People come here when they feel bleak or need to shed some gloom”, Kermit explained. I look over at Darryl for confirmation. He nods “yes” with his warm smile. He then takes off his backpack and sits on the log in front of us. It is then that my bunch of emotional bandits all seem to show some restraint. They are calm, quiet. Not acting up! Astonishingly, they move away from me and start walking around the meadow. They look so peaceful. Apathetic Annie, still locked in her crate, is clinging to the grated crate door. She looks so pacified and desperate to break free. Kermit comes to my side and whispers, “I’m sure she’ll behave now. Why not let her out?”  I look out on all of my negative emotions, freely moving about, not clinging to me. I am dumbstruck by this apparent detachment. I look down at Annie. Her eyes look at me with longing. I look back at Kermit and agree to let Annie out and let her go. I give Kermit the key to her crate and he unlocks it and opens the door. She timidly steps out and scurries away to join the other negative emotions.

I’m not quite sure what to think. These emotions have been with me, dominating my life for so long. Kermit then said to me, “You can leave them here. I’ll watch out for them. They may slip and try to bother you again, but I think now that you are free from them you’ll find it’s easier to find the positive emotions you need to now champion for you.” Darryl caught my eye and he nodded in agreement with Kermit.
I look at both of them and profess “But I still feel some fear about letting my kids go.” Darryl adds with encouragement, “That’s because you haven’t really connected to the positive emotions you need with you.” Kermit agrees and also adds, “You’ll find them where you bring your wishes, your visions. That’s the rainbow connection!” Weeping and feeling some hope, I thank them both and admit that it’s time for me to move on.  Darryl stands up and walks over to give me a hug. He let me know that he will be staying at Kermit’s for a bit before resuming his journey.  “Well then, I guess it’s time for me to go.”  I wave goodbye to them both and get in my van. But just before I drive away, I lower my window and look out to see my troublemaking negative emotions sitting peacefully by the creek. I wave goodbye to them as I slowly drive away. They acknowledge me, but they do not engage me. “That’s it, I guess. My mind is a clean slate? Ready to adopt some new, positive emotions? I see hope in the distance. No, really! I see Hope and stop to offer her a ride. She swiftly and joyfully gets in the van, then smiles at me and gestures for me to continue driving.
My life is anew.

RETURN WITH ELIXER

I can hardly believe how free I feel! I don’t think I really fathomed the weight of all those negative emotions on my shoulders, my mind, and my heart. Especially Apathy, “Apathetic Annie”. She was my greatest enemy. Finding the strength within me to defeat her took awhile and at one time I was resigned to thinking she’d always be my nemesis. To leave her and the others behind feels like a release from responsibility. I don’t feel weighed down. I have hope now.
And yes, I actually do have Hope Traveling with me in my van! Sitting in the passenger seat next to me. 

“Thanks for offering me a ride”, said Hope. “Sure!” I say, feeling light and enthusiastic. “Where are you headed?” I ask. Hope proclaims, “I’m going where you’re going! I’m here to accompany you back to your “Ordinary World”. I’m here for you.” I stutter, “Oh! Wow! Who did you … I mean, where did you… How did you know I would need you?”

Hope explains, “I met your friend Sue. She told me about your journey. I heard her say that you had determination to move your life forward. But that you would still need something extra to convince yourself it will be okay to let go. Especially to let go of your children. Is that so, Amy? Tell me what you plan on doing or saying when you return. How can I help?”
“Thank you, Hope.I am grateful for your offer. I need all the guidance I can get!”, I confessed. “Bring it on!”, Hope declared. I continue driving.
I confess, “Hope, one thing that has been weighing on my mind is that this van, my Beloved Behemoth, is on her last road trip. She’s 17 years old now. She’s tired and can’t function as well as she used to.” Hope interjects,  “Amy, did you hear what you said? Does it sound like anyone else you know?” I think about it and respond, “Oh, my God! This is a big metaphor sitting right in front of me, isn’t it?!”  I’m tired, worn out, working past my expiration date as a hands-on parent. But it’s hard for me to let go of my kids. I worry about them being ready to live independently. This van holds 17 years of memories and stories of my kids growing up. If I let her go, I’m letting go of that connection with those memories.This van, my Behemoth, has been a stalwart companion all these years, and an exceptional talisman in my Hero’s journey, too. She was at the ready and reliable whenever needed.

But, the words that keep ringing in my head, “Don’t work past your expiration date”, ground me in reality. With resolve, I admit it is time to let the Behemoth go when I return home. Thinking about this and feeling secure in my decision, I turn to wondering about what I am bringing home besides a van that needs retiring. Anything of value? What can I implement into my old life that will make it anew?

I am bringing home a powerful elixir. The elixir is something I made. I discovered this elixir through the writing I have done over the past 3 months. The writing opened up my mind, and my heart. It brought me out of darkness and into the light. My elixir is a new attitude, a new perspective. 

Life should not be defined as a challenge. It is a gift that I am going to accept every new day from now on. I am going to share this gift with my kids. I’m going to trust them to hold their own now. 

If I believe in myself and that I have done the best I can to raise them, then they will be okay. It will all be okay. The lessons I have taught them, the hope I leave with them will remain as my legacy.
We’ve arrived. I pull into the driveway. I am home. Hope and I step out of the van.  I hand her the keys. She is going to take the Behemoth and get her fixed, then it will go to a new, younger family. 

Waiting for me in the driveway are my daughter and son standing next to a small, perky looking EV car. My son hands me the new car keys and they tell me, “Welcome home, Mom. It’s so good to have you back.” They observe and continue, “Something is different about you. What is it? Is everything okay?” I tell them, “Everything is more than okay and with hope, it will stay that way.” I hand back the keys to my son and say, “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s all go for a drive through the redwoods.” We pile into our new ride, “Evie”, and we are off.