Hard Truth 205: On Stopping

I’m writing a post a day in celebration of my 43rd birthday month. If you’ve been abducted by aliens and have your phone with you, you can pass the time in that white holding cell by reading the whole series here. Because aliens have wifi, natch.

This year, I started sleeping in. Or rather, I started learning why to sleep in.

Which is pretty contrary to the fact that it’s 6:53am on a Saturday and here I am, writing a fucking blog post.

But I get what I call “busy brain.” I roll over in bed, start thinking, and off the brain goes to the races. Which is okay some nights/mornings. Others, it sucks more than the line at the DMV.

Today’s hard truth is about stopping…and why we don’t. And much about why we need to stop more often. And it’s short.

Because this morning, I felt his foot wrap around mine as I was drenched in a hazy mist of not-quite-awake. I moved over, laid my head on his chest, and laced my fingers through his. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was close — and there are times where close is much ore important.

I was about to roll over and get up, and then I heard his heartbeat.

Whup, whup, whup…

And I laid there, still, in that not-comfortable-but-close position for another 15 minutes.

Because it’s important to stop.

Since I started my own business eight years (jesus, really?) ago, there’s only been one time I stopped — and it was the day that Jason died. Everything stopped. But soon after — days, even — I kept going.

Going and going and traveling and books and writing and clients and, well, really anything to keep from feeling anything of substance.

I spent a lot of time crying. Drinking. Smoking (everything).

But I kept going.

And when I came out of that 20-month cancerous reverie, I still kept going. I moved, I worked, I took planes and trains and automobiles to speaking engagements hither and yon. I still drank (because VODKA). I got up daily to go to the gym at 5am and I kept going and going and going.

Segue: You know the feeling you get when you’re in the passenger seat and someone else is driving? I mean, once you get past their shitty driving because hey, you might be as shitty driver but at least you know your shitty and you’re not this kind of shitty.

That feeling you get when you see a building and think, “Jesus, is that new?”

No, it’s not new, you asshole. It was built in 1924 and you pass it 4 times a week when you drive downtown. You just haven’t slowed* down enough to notice it before.

*right here, I actually typed “slown” which isn’t a word, but it should be.

It’s worth it to slow down because everything worth seeing is probably waiting to be seen by you.

Like the people you love.

Like the colleague sitting in front of you sharing a problem they need solved or simply relating the stupid argument that she had with her husband this morning.

Like your love — you know, the one who’s stuck by you while you’re so goddamned busy. The one seemingly content being in your periphery but they’re not and what they truly want is to be seen by you. Taken in. Heard. Loved.

It feels good to be heard and not just stared at and nodded to because you’re one more fucking thing that someone has to deal with today.

And once this is done, I’ll crawl back into bed with Clark Kent and wrap my feet around his. I’ll drench myself in the warmth he kicks out under the covers because baby, it’s cold outside. I’ll move the asshole cat who likes to sleep right the fuck in between both our pillows with his head pointed toward the dashboard like he’s a Fiat that just parked in the garage for the night and I’ll get close enough to hear him breathe.

Because after 42 years on this planet, I can tell you this: there is little in this world that cannot wait when a worthwhile human being is standing/sleeping/laying before you, ready to be seen.

I spent so much of my life being an asshole and I’m sure there are plenty of folks who still mistake my blunt-as-hell for fuck-right-off. The most asshole thing I’ve ever done is willingly miss out on every moment I’ll never have because I was too busy to stop and let it happen.

Now if you’ll excuse me, brain is empty. Your box is filled. Day 5 thoughts complete.

I’m going to go stop next to the human being who keeps me going because life is better when we’re still…together.

It’s probably why we’re still together.

Life’s not passing you by. It’s waiting to be SEEN by you.
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