STILL

Recently I was in conversation with a few friends, making small talk and joking around and one friend was repeatedly dropping the comment “I’m still single” with enough frequency to irk me. “Can we just drop the still part of that? And just be Single?” I commented back. In the moment I couldn’t tell what it was that bothered me so much about that one word. What was it about a single syllable word that irked me so? Was it really the word itself or had I felt the hurt that was protectively buried beneath a word laid out as a social cover to mask the level of pain that was hidden below.

Words tend to tie me in knots. I like to play with them, putting them in lines that sometimes tend to rhyme and unpack their simple flow. A single word can send an explosion of feeling unexpectedly. How can a word have so much power? This word still is a thorn I cannot understand, carrying around my irritation for a few days trying to unpack its emotion I stumbled into another word. Expectation. Another loaded word, 4 syllables of known weight as it pounds off my tongue in its execution of name. The definition at first unsurprising “a strong belief that something will happen or be the case in the future” felt rather fitting and presupposed, no help for me in my wrestling match, with a second line following “a belief that someone will or should achieve something” and BAM! I knew what was irking me for it exploded. There in that second line another single syllable I truly despise, “should”. Connected with “still” the shivers down my spine told me I’d found the source of my irritation.

Should and I have a history that runs the course of my past. It signifies a power that comes from somewhere outside of myself and indicates my direct failure. A failure of an attempt I did not make on my own, leading out from the dark a dirty single syllable called shame. My past is filled with events of should should-ing all over the place, I’ve learned in time to simplify with boundary lines stating “don’t should all over me”.

This causal link between two words finally got me to think. No longer stuck wrestling with irked feelings, I knew where to start with the unpacking. A simple still holds the power of unmet expectations that should have resolved and fixed themselves and instead read as failed leading down the path to shame. Is that what set me off the other day in the words of my friend? Did I catch a glimpse of unwarranted shame that festered beneath the skin? If I recognized this tone in someone else’s voice, then it must have been an echo of when it rung out from my own.

Life is unusual these days, in the time of the Corona. Life is played out with an extention of an uncertain timeline. When will things go back to normal, will life ever be the same? The desire to be free again to do whatever I please, social outings, big events and simply connecting with my friends. I am still stuck at home, still walking my dog around the same boring block. The dishes are still in the sink, the kitchen still dirty, and the daily drama of interpersonal relationship still comes from my TV. I’m still working from home, still hitting my head trying to connect virtually, still frustrated in my job, and still yearning for meaning. The definition of still “not moving or making a sound” seems lacking in fit for this decreased propulsion through space and time. Stagnating in frustration I feel my expectations rise. Shouldn’t it be different by now, shouldn’t time rebel? Why I am still stuck here when I’ve designs for my life that don’t include a virus and a hiatus on my life! How quick and easy it is to fall out of line. This bucket list of frustration suddenly overfills its line pulling the weight of balance off, I no longer see its counter. Why is it so easy to fill a bucket with the still unmet expectations and unequally so much harder to just sit alone and simply be still? The balance of the two feels like an impossible equation. Sitting still and sifting through a realignment of should and expectation involves so much interpersonal work of letting some things go, balance takes its time.

Sitting here quietly I can start to see what it is about stillness that irks me. The world moves fast, my pace is set by invisible expectations. Like county lines set to define what’s in and what’s out remain invisible to the naked eye, the lines only clear on an actual map. Society’s shoulds, invisible to my eye, sneak their way into my personal time line. Linear arrivals from point A to point B labeled as society’s boundary line paint a contrast to the looping and wavy lines of the life that I lead, creating a tangle of expectations to weed, most of which I don’t recognize as seeds that I planted. The world pushing me forward faster and faster, I should be there already, but what if the truth is that I am not ready to be there? Seasons change in time, when they are good and ready. Leaves don’t rush ahead deadheading in summer, but wait for the fall to paint them in color.

It’s so hard to see time while rushing ahead, a view that moves outward and forward looking for markers that someone else posted. Perhaps what I heard from the words of my friend in the phrase “I’m still single” was a word of warning in bold telling me to pause, to stop, to simply be still. To release the pull of the future that blindly leads me on, to consider the markers I think I am looking for. To drop the expectations that are covered in should, did they start off as mine or did they get hijacked? What are My expectations that I tripped and got stuck on? How tight did I hold them?

Still. No moving. No sound. When it all stops what do I hear? Is it A to B or loopy and wavy? Be still. Are my expectations packaged loosely boxed gently in with hope, or are they shouting should at me wrapped tight with threat of shameful failure? Am I still something….or am I just still?

It’s hard to untangle the web of feelings that get stuck with unmet or hijacked expectations. To counter imbalance day to day and fight for an unknown future. To hold the truths of hidden desire and longing of the heart. I want to take the pain away from my friend’s “still single” refrain. It’s hard to fight the battle between time and measuring up. Rewriting expectations that extend kindness to our humanity instead of unreasonable bullying by the voice of should. Sitting still for a single minute without a single sound, is practically impossible with the noise I make inside myself.  In sitting still for a few seconds at a time I’ve only one thing figured out, that it’s hard to be human and measure up with ones self.

I am right here, and still so fully human.