Unpacking process: rough cartography

Since I am working my way through the fallout from foreclosure, I’ve been thinking about process. It’s a bit of a buzz word – being in process, staying with your process, etc. What does that mean? What does process look like?

     I figured other people must have written about and/or process so I looked it up on the internet…and found nothing. This is the first time I’ve put anything into Google that didn’t return any relevant data. Curious. Changing my search words didn’t help. I got tons of entries about physical, mechanical and design processes. I found nothing on being in process as a form of personal transition and transformation.

    Process is what I go through after a significant life event that cracks my world in some way: death of someone close to me, serious health issue, relationship falling apart….or getting thrown out of my apartment. Process is the journey from brokenness to a new place of equilibrium that integrates the triggering event.

   An emotional, mental and/or spiritual process is similar to a physical process in that there are steps. It requires work. It takes time. Unlike a physical process, most of the doing is not about action in the world. The doing is internal; focused on paying attention, questioning, moving through emotions and being present.

    With many physical processes, the outcome is a known. If I do W, X and Y, I will get Z. Personal process has no guaranteed outcome. If I keep moving through, I will get to the other side of whatever I’m working with. However, what the other side looks like is a big unknown.

    When I googled “healing process” I found many web sites with lists of steps in healing. Even though I agreed a lot of what I read, the lists bore no relation to what a process feels like. The lists were all very neat and contained. Process is messy, explosive and filled with debris.

   Because I’ve been through this a few times, I go into a transformation process knowing:

            -It’s going to be messy.

            -I will feel like I’m flailing.

            -I will feel like this is never going to be different

            -I have to let go of what I think the process is “supposed” to look like and what I “should”

             look like while I’m in it.

    The other big one…it will take longer than I want it to. If I resist and get in my own way, I can prolong the process. (At some point I will probably do some of that. Often resistance is part of my process.) Even if I am completely present and engaged, I am not in control of the timing.    

    Process is period of time where I turn my attention inward. I make space every day to be present with feelings. Yes, there are days when I’m too busy to carve out that time. So I get some quiet the next day.

    I do want I can to be less busy. I eliminate what’s not absolutely necessary. I hibernate on weekends; let myself move to my internal rhythm rather than external demands. Unscheduled time is vital. So is solitude.

     Life doesn’t stop while this is going on. The daily bits can seem like a waste of time but the mundane often fuels the process.

     How I feel when I wake up is pretty random. I can go to bed feeling okay and wake up sad. Emotional shifts during process are often dictated by what’s going on inside me, not by external events.

    I take a few minutes in the morning to get grounded in my body and be aware of how I feel. Checking in is important. When I’m in process I’m more sensitive to the emotions of people around me and to evocative situations. Things that usually minor annoyances can be really irritating. Spending time with someone who’s angry or grieving can accentuate those feelings in me.

     This is not something I can change or control. I can only accept where I am and do my best not to react. At some point I will react, catch myself, apologize and go on. When someone else’s emotions push what I’m already feeling, my awareness of how I felt previously lets me sort out what’s mine and let the rest go.

    Process moves to its own mysterious rhythm. Some days are tumultuous, filled with emotional and mental storms. There are days, weeks and even months where I feel like I’m slogging through a swamp. Time stretches out into an endless mean. I feel the same day after day. Nothing seems to be changing. I begin to wonder if I’m stuck. I start looking for places where I’m getting in my own way. If I can’t find any the lack of motion itself begins to frustrate me.

    These spans are the hardest to traverse. Sometimes I sense movement but it doesn’t seem to have any direction. It’s intangible; not something I can put my finger on or describe. This internal wasteland makes answering even simple questions like “how are you?” challenging.

    Then, suddenly I have an “ah-hah.” A new awareness triggers a shift in my perspective. Even if it’s a tiny shift, I feel some change. It takes a long time for something to suddenly happen. All the amorphous movement, when everything seemed the same, was laying the foundation for the “ah-hah.”

    I want to hang onto that moment when I feel that I am moving through and moving on. Sometimes it is just a moment, here and gone. At other times it lasts an hour, a day or a few days. Then the new awareness brings up more questions, a new storm and another trek through the wasteland.

    Often after the “ah-hah” I find a resting place. I feel lighter. The world seems more open. This is a gift and the perfect spot to take a break. I go hang out with a friend, watch an entertaining movie, do something that has nothing to do with being serious or paying attention to my inner landscape.

    Taking breaks is essential. If I look at or sit with anything too long it begins to spin in my head and grow. I have to step out further too really see where I am.

    All of this is hard work and exhausting. I’ll be tired. I’ll have times where the tired sneaks up on me like a big wave. During the process, I do my best to take care of myself. Some days my best amounts to not caring much – too much sugar, not enough sleep, too much coffee and grabbing at distractions. That too is part of the process. Balance when I’m in process is like standing on one leg on a beach ball. Constant adjustments and periodically I fall off.