Chaos Theory

Chaos, perceived order, chaos, perceived order.

I won’t say “order,” because I’m not sure that’s exactly what it is, but it sometimes looks like order, in that things seem to make sense, and life is calm or happy, or the check comes in time, or the person you were just thinking of appears, or the trains all arrive just as you step down to the platform.

Order? Maybe.

My ferret brain is currently perceiving chaos. And terrified, gnawing on its own limbs in visceral worry, that there will never be order, even of the perceived kind.

I know that this is part of the pattern of life – I’ve watched others go through it, I myself have gone through it – but each time the chaos occurs, it’s like order never existed; faith, calm, ease, joy, never existed, and never will again. We’re at the end of days, and time’s up, and meter’s run out, and you’re screwed.

Do you ever get that?

Fear brain is in hyper-drive, and so the small action steps I’m supposed to be taking are all the more important. My fear brain is stuck in the gear of “you have no income, no prospects, no job, no career, no ambition to a career, you’re lost and will never be found, and get used to asking for handouts…again.”

Silly brain. I feel it. I get it. I am thrown by it, and sometimes owned by it. Like today.

But, there are a few chinks in this armor of fear, and one was an exercise in the Money Drunk, Money Sober book: "What would it feel like to let go of desperation? Explore."

Hmm. Let go of desperation? Well, as I wrote in my Morning Pages today, it’d feel like freedom, calm, availability, faith. It’d feel like being open to what’s around me, the perceived order where coincidences do happen, and help is available, and guidance is sure and strong.

To let go of desperation, would mean letting go of smallness, isolation triggered by fear and financial insecurity (or fear of financial insecurity). You know, “No, I can’t join you at that awesome event, I don’t have any money.”

I was sent an email from a friend who I’m in irregular touch with, so, it was rather unexpected. It’s for a job that my closed-off brain says is too low paying, sounds too overworking, and is in a non-profit, which usually means (or has meant in my experience) that half the time, if not more, is spent on trying to beg funds from people.

I do that enough in my real life, eh?

That said, one of the other suggestions I read last night in that book was: Step 1: Get. A. Job. And, hello, applying to something is not the same as taking anything. And it would be good for me to get off my high horse/pity-pot and just start to apply to shit.

Cuz…here’s the fear brain ferret’s mantra: You don’t have rent for May.

Here’s the recovery brain’s mantra: Next right action.

I have rent and all expenses for April, covered. I have shelter, clothing, food (though in my typical pattern, I’ve scrimped on getting to the grocery store this month, and thus have spent much more in eating out than planned). I have this internet connection, hot water, shampoo, coffee, art supplies, happy yellow rain boots.

Plus, I have all the resources of friends and fellowship that I could want, if I avail myself of them.

There’s a line from another book which states something like the following: Given the choice between going on to the bitter end, blotting out the reality of our situation, and accepting help, we often balk at the choice. Stall, hem and haw, measure our options.

Options: go to hell in a handbasket – OR – take an action step. Hmmm…..

It is as much perceived chaos as it is perceived order. There isn’t chaos here in my life at the moment – there’s a tantrum. And a choice. I can give myself the gift of clear direction, and let go of desperation by taking action. Or, I can continue to pin abundant affirmations to my walls and discount unexpected emails.

My best ideas continue to send me to the edge – may I now please accept a different solution?