Robbin L Marcus
For up-to-date Alexander class information, please click:
  • HOME
  • Music Teaching Resources
    • Workshops & Residencies
    • Kodaly Teacher Certification
    • Folk Music Links
  • Dance Resources
    • Contra/Square Dance Caller
    • Family/Community Dance Leader
    • School Workshops
    • Contra and English Dance Piano
    • "Reelplay" Dance Band
    • Traditional Dance Links
  • Health and Wellness
    • Alexander Technique >
      • Private Alexander Lessons
      • A.T. Class Schedule and Pre-registration
      • A. T. Links
    • Reiki
  • Piano Lessons
    • Marcus Music Studio calendar and fees
    • Marcus Music Studio piano contract
  • Upcoming Workshops
  • Blog

Slow Forward, Day 21 - On We Go

3/5/2023

0 Comments

 
Twenty-one stories ago I decided I wanted to look at the idea of gentleness as it related to processing my knee surgery. I gave my theme the name Slow Forward. Since then, Slow Forward as an idea unto itself has been morphing, slowly and gently, into the way I want to continue to live my life. I don’t want to be that person who takes on too much anymore. I have finally, truly, learned to say “no.” Or, better, to say “yes” only to that which gives me joy. Marie Kondo for my mind instead of my things.
 
This journey we’ve undertaken together has wound me through memories I didn’t think would connect with the present as well as through fresh surgical healing. My eyes and heart have been opened to new ways of thinking about the past and how it affects my current situation. I thank you for taking this ride with me, and for the kind thoughts, affirmations, and valuable comments so many of you have shared along the way. Through them I’ve learned again the value of being publicly vulnerable in setting myself free of old thinking. 
 
I’ve realized that if I try to rush the regaining of trust, I will set myself back. I did go down to the woods last weekend to see the owl tree and the dry creek, and it will be a while before my knee says it’s a good idea to do that again. It was a lot. That’s all right. Slow Forward.
 
Somewhere during the last month, the poem below found me on my Facebook feed. I’ve been saving it to share with you today as a summation. I had a poster of a turtle crawling by a vase of flowers with the Mahatma Gandhi quote “There’s more to life than increasing its speed,” on my wall in college. Even then, I knew my propensities to do too much. Too bad it took me more than forty years to take Gandhi’s advice. It’s perfect that the quote showed up here:
​
​Slow Me Down
By Wilferd Arlan Peterson
 
Slow me down
Ease the pounding of my heart
by the quieting of my mind.
Steady my hurried pace
with a vision of the eternal reach of time.
 
Give me, amid the confusion of the day,
the calmness of the everlasting hills.
Break the tension of my nerves and muscles
with the soothing music of the singing streams
that live in my memory.
 
Help me to know
the magical restoring power of sleep.
Teach me the art of taking minute vacations,
of slowing down to look at a flower,
to chat with a friend,
to pat a dog,
to read a few lines of a good book.
 
Remind me each day of the fable
of the hare and the tortoise,
that I may know that the race is not always to be swift.
That there is more to life than increasing its speed.
 
Let me look upward into the branches of the towering oak,
and know that it grew great and strong
because it grew slowly and well.
 
Slow me down and inspire me to send my roots
deep into the soil of life's enduring values.
That I may grow toward the stars
of my greater destiny.

​Blessings to you on your journeys forward, however fast or slow they may go.
​
Picture
A vintage print of my 1970's poster, being sold on Ebay for $45.
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 20 - The Dry Creek

3/3/2023

0 Comments

 
If I want to center and ground myself, I need to get outside. I need my feet on the earth and to slowly settle into the natural world. 

I’ve known this about myself for a long time, but it really came home during the pandemic, when the only place to “go” other than another room in my house was out in the woods.  In the last 3-4 years I have thoroughly explored the full 5-acre property we live on, finding the boundary lines with the park. 
 
The dry creek called to me for years, but I thought that the hill was simply too steep. I was afraid of sliding down into the rocks that line the hillside. In 2020 I finally hiked over into the preserve far enough to discover a way down to the creek that was gently rolling, and incidentally, full of chanterelle mushrooms in summer. From there, I can wind my way back along the stream to the bottom of my property. 
 
The view there is stunning. In the early spring it’s full of ferns and jack in the pulpit. Next come the native azaleas, with their gorgeous pink and white blooms. 
Picture
In summer it turns into a native grassland, and the mud which forms when the creek dries is full of deer and racoon prints. Looking up at the large boulders which frame our backyard is a completely different experience from walking on them above. I like to think of the Cherokee they sheltered a hundred or more years ago. 
Picture
There’s a convenient tree with huge roots that grow along the ground to sit on. It really is “my spot.” When I need peace or a quiet place to think, or if I just want to observe the forest, this is where I go.
Picture
I haven’t been able to be down there comfortably since early last summer. Then, the native azaleas were spectacular, and I had to go, albeit very carefully. On that walk, I meandered a long way along the creek and realized I’d missed a good spot to cross over. I put my hand on a dead and rotting tree that lined the creek for support, and suddenly heard an incredible racket over my head. It was the Barred Owl we often hear in the evenings while sitting on the porch. I realized with a start that I’d found the owl’s nesting spot. So sorry, friend.
Picture
Over the next couple of weeks, I returned to a rock a respectable distance and an easy walk away with binoculars to watch mama owl sitting on the nest, which was at the top of the tall dead stump.  I was lucky enough to be there the day the baby owl hatched, and watched the eggshell be pushed out of the nest.  After that, I was less inclined to walk down there and disturb the young family. 
 
I hope to go down this weekend and see if that tree is still standing, and if the owls have returned. The Phoebes are nesting under our screen porch and Carolina wrens are shoving their messy piles of leaves and twigs into every crevice they can find around the deck area. It’s that time of year.
As the pace of life picks up for both people and birds, I know where to find my Slow Forward. Now that my knee is healed, I can’t wait to get back there.
All photos property of Robbin Marcus. 
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 19 - Jumping the Gun

3/2/2023

0 Comments

 
Picture
My choir class in the music room, 2007.

“I know! I know!” A room full of wiggling students all have their hands up. I hold a large wooden musical staff on my lap. We’re working on note names. I call on one of the ones who is not too noisy, and he says, “F! G! A!”  None of those are correct.  In the early 2000s my colleagues at the school and I were noticing a disturbing trend. Students seemed propelled by some invisible force to raise their hands and quickly give back inaccurate answers. They weren’t taking the time to think the question through, to test hypotheses in their own minds before deciding to answer. 
 
No one could say for sure what was causing this, but we suspected that it might be all the educational video games parents were purchasing in those days. Players were rewarded for answering quickly and encouraged to beat their own times in subsequent games. It reminded me of Pavlov’s dog. They were conditioned by these games to react as quickly as possible. 
 
As an Alexander Technique teacher, I was interested in exploring if I could break this habit in my own elementary school music classroom. 
 
The next time we did note identification, I told the children that I would give them the question, but before they could raise their hands, I would slowly count to five by raising one finger at a time on my hand. If they absolutely knew the correct answer at the end of the 5 counts, they could raise their hand. 
 
Introducing this pause worked wonders. Suddenly, the accuracy level of the entire class increased dramatically. I started doing this in my classroom for every question I asked. I wanted to teach my students to pause, to think, to respond instead of react.  After a couple of weeks, we talked about it in the fourth-grade classes where my older students were. I asked them how they felt when they tried it. “I felt calmer, because I had time to think of the answer.” “It was weird not to just be able to shout out something.” “I liked it because I’m quiet and it gave me a chance to answer, too.”
 
These students are now in their early 20s. Just last week I learned that a child I taught in kindergarten that year shot 2 people in Baltimore. Every time I hear about a mass shooting executed by a young person of that age, I think of my experiment and the impetus behind it. What did we do to that generation by teaching them to just react? What examples are we setting for the ones that follow? Where is the time to pause, to inhibit our reactions, to respond differently? Who is teaching children to slow down?
 
As I think back, I believe this is the first time the concept of Slow Forward began to take shape for me. Rooted in Alexander Technique, nurtured by years of teacher training and classroom wisdom, all while feeling the discontent of hurrying in my own life. 
 
Just for today, I encourage you to try it. When someone asks you a question, pause and silently count to five. Then, see what comes up for your answer.
 
For more information on Alexandrian inhibition, read my blog post here.
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 18 - The "Slow Forward" Paradox

3/1/2023

0 Comments

 
It’s no secret that teachers are struggling. When I was a teacher, making a huge 5 figures a year, I often had to figure out how to make ends meet. For a long time in my early career, I held a second job. Today we read about teachers who drive for Uber or wait tables on the weekends instead of getting the rest they need. Teacher’s salaries have not risen enough to cover their housing and food costs. It’s well-documented how difficult teaching has become in the US where we worry about being shot daily while learning our ABCs. Stress upon stress.
 
It’s not just teaching. Many people these days work more than one job. The work world dominates our lives, and most people can’t find a way off the merry-go-round. We’re expected to do more and more while our bodies cry out for less and less. 
 
In a society where we are pushed to get ahead and encouraged to work ever harder, the idea of Slow Forward isn’t just an oxymoron, it’s also a paradox. 
 
In my study over the years with Megan Macedo in these writing challenges and workshops I’ve attended, one theme is always clear – “Do the work only you can do.” By sharing our stories, by creating things that also make our hearts sing, we can do our true work. Our true work may look nothing like the corporate paradigm. If we do our true work, people find us and want to work with us. In a world where everything feels fake, people are deeply attracted to authenticity. 
 
Slow Forward is the authentic expression of how I try to live my life now, even though, paradoxically, I’m a person who totally bought into fast and faster. After working as hard as I could for so many years, I know that’s not sustainable. For my sanity, slowing down and choosing only the work I want to do allows me to be my most authentic self. As a person who works part time, I have the luxury and privilege to do this at this point in my life.
 
I recognize that that is not possible for everyone. 
 
Still, I encourage you, in whatever ways are available to you – take time for yourself. Go for an observation walk in the woods. Get out in a garden. Curl up with a good book. Take a nap or a bath. Meditate. Come have an Alexander Technique lesson with me. Whatever it is that can slow you down and provide you some self-care; put it on your calendar and prioritize it. It’s amazing how much clearer your true work will become.
Picture
The joy of an Alexander Technique lesson. Photo credit, Lorikay Photography
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 17 - Under the Surface

2/28/2023

0 Comments

 
I went to see my surgeon for my 3-month checkup last week. It was the first time we’d been face to face since the operating room, the first time he’d seen me walk with my new knee. In short, everyone is pleased with the outcome. My knee is healing well, and I have more function now than I’ve had for the last year or so. 
 
Because I worry, I asked lots of questions. When I could expect more mobility? Why am I having cramping in the night occasionally in my calf? etc. Finally, I asked the question I was most concerned about. My scar is still quite hot to the touch. When leaving the hospital, the main thing that is impressed upon joint replacement recipients over and over is that if your incision gets hot and red, check in immediately, it’s an infection.  Even though nothing feels bad, I was concerned that perhaps this hotness of my healed scar meant that underneath I was not accepting the titanium implant. 
 
Fortunately, x-rays showed that that worry was unfounded. The surgeon assured me that everything was beautiful inside and out, and that the heat at this point simply meant that there was still healing going on under the surface. 
 
I’ve been thinking about the implications of healing going on under the surface for several days now. Healing that happens that we don’t see. In the systems of our body there are blood cells rushing to the scene to do their jobs in preventing infection and providing nourishment, bones to support us, ligaments to tie us together. That doesn’t begin to bring in the respiratory system and our healing breath, our digestive system providing nourishment for growth and removal of waste, or the nerves which regenerate and grow after surgery.  Our bodies are fantastic, and they are one system with the brain as well.
 
So often we want to divorce our brains from our bodies, to heal bodily trauma by withdrawing the mind, or to forget we have a body at all. Having surgery brings us into our bodies in a visceral way. During this recovery, I’ve worked to stay with myself, to not withdraw from pain, to have the experience as a unified whole. It hasn’t been easy, but I think in large part it’s why I recovered so quickly. I’ve done the work of healing, massaging the scar and my leg on the outside and doing PT exercises to heal on the inside. The energy work I’ve given myself and received from others finds holistic ways to reach what I can’t. I had a fabulous Alexander turn with my friend Sarah that reminded me to lengthen my torso before trying to stand after weeks of curling up in bed. All this work combined has me back at about 90% of my knee function. And yet…. there’s still more underneath. Slow Forward.
 
Where else in my life have I felt the heat of healing? Have I been afraid of what’s going on underneath, or have I done the work? Unanswered questions to ponder deeply for the next few months. 
 
I am reminded of a quote from Bruce Fertman. “Fear is a loss of contact and support. To decrease fear, increase contact and support.” More to ponder here, always. 
 
One day, the surgeon said, I’ll just wake up and notice my scar is not hot anymore. That will mean that the underlying healing is complete. That feeling, I think I know. 
 
Picture
My beautiful scar. I'm holding my leg up in the air, here, to take a "leg selfie."
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 16 - Stretching Across Generations

2/27/2023

0 Comments

 
“Your grandmother is a hypochondriac!”
 
“You’re just like her.”
These two phrases amounted to the curse of the Wicked Fairy in my life. Primarily uttered by my mother, they were not usually said together. The first came after hanging up the kitchen phone, to which she’d reluctantly been tethered for at least 30 minutes while listening to my grandmother recite her litany of aches and pains and worries on a daily basis. The second came in arguments, when my mother most wanted to wound me. My grandmother had a notoriously sharp tongue, and I am sorry to say that I learned that lesson well when I was younger so that I could fight back. 
 
The work of generations in clearing out what came before. The work of my lifetime. Slow forward. 
 
I never had patience or respect for my grandmother’s manipulation, the pathetic searching for love through giving things with strings, the wounding. But the older I get, the more sympathy I have for my grandmother’s physical conditions.  We are, thanks to the Wicked Genetics Fairy, entirely too much alike. 
 
Here’s what my maternal grandmother and I share:
  • A hyetal hernia 
  • Colon polyps
  • A shellfish allergy
  • Severe osteoarthritis at a relatively early age
  • Spinal pain
  • Osteoporosis
  • High blood pressure
  • Worrying about all of the above (i.e., anxiety)
 
What we don’t share are the aftereffects of horrendous cancer surgery that she underwent in the 50s, causing her to have a “big arm” for the rest of her life because she wouldn’t do the necessary lymph drainage to get rid of it.  She had scarring from the top to the bottom of her abdomen. I do believe she lived in constant pain. Ibuprofen hadn’t been invented until about a year before she died. Antidepressants consisted of Valium, which she rightly feared.
 
The Hypochondriac label haunts me. No one will ever say that about me. Instead of my grandmother’s constant need to complain about her aches and pains, Dave tells me I don’t communicate enough about them. I find this amusing. Most of my day is an internal struggle to forget how much various parts of me are hurting. Work helps. Walking in the woods helps. Having a hot tub and NSAIDs keeps me moving. 
 
It’s ironic. The work of the younger part of my adult life was in shedding my sharp tongue and learning to inhibit my worst thoughts. Someone the other day wrote about “the truth that doesn’t need to be told.” That’s it. That part of me now seldom sees the light of day, for which I’m very grateful. (I’m sure Dave and Anne are, too.)
 
Now, the primary work of my older adult life is in accepting what is, physically. In stretching every day.  In talking rationally about that which needs to be shared. In letting go of worry about the future and staying present. 
 
Generational work, from mothers to daughters to granddaughters.
 
And on it goes. Slowly, slowly stretching what we inherit, until we can shape it into something else and let it go. 
Picture
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 15 - Let's Get Real

2/24/2023

0 Comments

 
​Time for a reality check. 
 
Let’s be honest. I love being busy. I thrive on the rush of last-minute deadlines successfully achieved. I adore procrastination in the name of doing something else.  I get rewards for the looks on other people’s faces when I show them my calendar, and they say things like “I don’t know how you can do all of that.” I am a first class busy-ness junkie. Busy-ness is my identity and my addiction. 
 
At the start of this series, while I was extolling the virtues of Slow Forward and describing lapping up the expectations placed on young women of my generation, I got a note from my BFF Ariana. The two of us met when we were 12. As far as each other’s lives go, we’ve seen it all and been there for most of it.  Here’s what she said to my Day 3 post:
 
“I would agree with Dave you have been over scheduled. I do see a tempering of this habit with your knee surgery forcing you to SLOW DOWN. Remember that feeling as you come out of your recovery. Less is more my friend.”
 
Ouch. Et tu, Brute?
 
The physical pain is why I went for Alexander Technique lessons. The awareness, the slowed sense of time, the inner calm, is why I stayed. 
 
I’m not stupid. I know that slowing down is good for me. I also know how to create space for it when I want to. But that’s the rub. That old habitual behavior. If you love an addiction, it may go underground, but it won’t go away. Take it from me. 
 
2020 was a wakeup call for the entire world. Slowing down was not a choice, it was a necessity. Who were my busiest friends? Who continued working harder than they ever had before? The therapists, of course. I was living my best chill life while they were panicking on their time off from Zoom. 
 
Depression and anxiety were very real. I admit to being there by the end of 2020. Renting and painting my little office in 2021 was both an admission of hope and somewhere to be that wasn’t my house. I can only take about an hour of concertina music a day, friends. Dave can play all day and all night. He might stop for meals. 
 
I don’t recall another time in my adult life with a completely empty weekend calendar. It was astonishing and incredibly, confusingly different. 
 
Forward to 2022, and real life was slowly returning. Then, I slipped in the driveway. That’s when I got really, really depressed. My plans to travel to Germany last summer and walk everywhere? Cancelled. Gardening? Also cancelled. Don’t look at the weeds. Hiking? Nope. Dancing? Forget about it. 
 
I had a lot of time to sit and think. How could this become a positive situation? What lessons could I take from the last 3 years? That’s when the idea of Slow Forward evolved. I knew I wanted to write about it, but first I had to live it.
Picture
Ariana and I a few days after my knee surgery. Photo credit, Dave Marcus
Ariana, I don’t think I’ll go fully back to that person who never stopped. I’m 63. Literally, I can’t do that anymore. Just working 3 days a week exhausts me now.
 
The truth is out. I guess we’ll see what’s next.
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 14 - Kindred Spirits

2/23/2023

0 Comments

 
My neighbor Deb called with some exciting news last week. She’s about to be certified in teaching Japanese forest bathing. Deb and I share the same 3500-acre nature preserve “backyard,” and she wanted to know if she could end her first walk on our actual property. Of course! 
 
Deb and I have a lot in common, the least of which is a strong belief in Slow Forward. Our husbands are good friends. We love healthy food. We're passionate about where we live. We’re both female small business owners of a certain age who’ve had other successful careers. My business is microscopic and makes enough to keep me in shoes and pay for our vacations. Deb, on the other hand, is a black female entrepreneur. She runs a plant-based food business called Walnut Life that has the potential to explode any day now, especially since she was able to install a commercial kitchen in her home last summer.  She does a good business selling her products to vegan restaurants and selling to consumers at New Black Wall Street, our mall for local vendors and small black businesses here in town. 
Picture
Celebrating the installation of the new commercial kitchen. Photo credit, Sheldon Fleming
During the pandemic, we both seriously slowed down. There was a lot of time for porch sitting, for talking about our dreams and business philosophies, for walking in the woods. One of the things I love about Deb is that walking in the woods with her means we stop to look at everything. I generally drive people crazy because I don’t make a lot of progress on a “hike” very quickly. There’s always something to see. It’s so nice to not have to negotiate that and just be.  We both love hunting for mushrooms and edible plants, and hanging out with the animals with whom we share our forest homes. 
 
We haven’t seen as much of each other since 2022 as we’re both back at work now, especially Deb with her growing business. I’m delighted that Forest Bathing will be her new side gig. Deb innately understands that slowing down is what keeps you healthy. She takes one day off a week to spend out in the woods, a huge commitment for someone trying to build a business. There isn’t anyone who would be better at promoting Forest Bathing here at Arabia Mountain. Forest Bathing is a physical manifestation of Slow Forward in the natural world. I’m still longingly looking out my window at the steep hill down to the dry creek, one of my favorite spots in spring. Give me another few weeks and I’ll be out there, too, hopefully in time for her first class. 
Picture
Looking up from the dry creek with ferns and jack in the pulpit in spring. Photo credit, Robbin Marcus
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 13 - Opening to Trust

2/22/2023

0 Comments

 
Due to having Ehlers Damlos Hypermobility Syndrome (EDHS), I’ve had 4 different joint surgeries in my adult life. Three of them were related to dislocations - first in my right shoulder, and then each knee in turn. The last was my knee replacement, caused by “profound osteoarthritis” that was exacerbated by having had the arthroscopic surgery earlier in my life.  
 
None of my recoveries were the same in my body or in my brain. The physical recovery hasn’t necessarily gotten easier (in fact it’s harder now that I’m older) but the mental recovery certainly has improved.  Some of it is knowing what to expect, but far more than that, in my journey I have gradually learned to trust my body. 
 
Without a doubt, surgery is a form of trauma. First, they drug you so you’re out of your mind. After that, someone comes for you with a knife to cut you open. Even if the mind is prepared and calm, the body still needs to process trauma afterward. Some people never do.  
 
I was thinking about writing this piece, and last night this Twitter quote popped up on my Facebook feed:
Picture
While I realize that Ebonee is speaking about deep, systemic societal trauma here, this quote also applies well to a number of people in the years after surgery. 
 
In my personal experience, trauma around my right shoulder was deep and profound. I lost count of the number of times I’d dislocated it in the 23 years from the first time to surgical repair. I protected that shoulder for all I was worth. My life and activities narrowed. I held the shoulder in close and kept my arm resting against my body. I rounded my shoulders and back to keep it tightly in. I had constant neck and back pain related to how I used myself.   
 
My Alexander Technique studies coincided with the last few years of this. In learning to open and soften my front, I had to start letting my arm release. I was terrified for anyone to pick it up. I resisted or I “helped.” Heaven forbid anyone tried to lift it over my head. Even after surgery, even after PT, I didn’t trust my shoulder not to dislocate again.
 
It took years of working with gentle Alexander teachers, skilled massage therapists and a Therapist or two to learn to let go of that trauma. Through all that work, I started listening to the messages my body was sending. I started to let go of fear and of my habitual patterns. As I said here, this important work now forms the basis of my Alexander teaching. I hope to reach people before those patterns of holding set in after PT. 
 
Today’s recovery from my knee replacement is informed by all that work I’ve done in the past with myself and others. I do trust that my new titanium knee was ready from day 1 – it was just the rest of me that has had to heal around it. Early on I took myself on an energetic journey through my surgery to process the pain and fear. I moved my body into the position I imagined it was during the surgery due to the clamping bruises. My body told me I’d found it. I cried profoundly as I let the trauma go through Reiki. 
 
Later, the temptation to limp on the cane was pulling me. I paused and reminded myself to walk the way I’d taught so many people to do it, rolling though my foot. I made sure my arms were strong enough before surgery to push myself up from a chair, and I used the hip hinging I teach people to make getting up with the head leading easier. I remind myself daily that the pain, twinges and leg cramps I feel are all part of healing. And when I get concerned or fearful that something else might be going on, I send a note to my doctor in the portal. Let’s stay in the now. 
 
This opening to healing while opening to trust is the deep philosophy of Slow Forward. It’s not quick. It’s not supposed to be if we’re processing trauma. Someday, I’m just going to hurry down the stairs without noticing my knee first. That will be fun. We’re not there yet and that’s ok. 
0 Comments

Slow Forward, Day 12 - Opening to Healing

2/21/2023

0 Comments

 
The first weeks after my knee replacement were a blur. I slept fitfully in between getting up to move every hour and being woken up by pain. I followed directions with my pills and tried to “stay ahead” of the pain. Being on morphine for about 2 weeks meant I simply did whatever I was told. The effect of the drug was relatively pleasant, but it dulled my emotions. I just existed in what I can only describe as a soft place. 
 
My friend Debbie described this time to me by relating it to having a new baby. You never know when the baby is going to wake you up, you’re exhausted, you’re in pain, and frankly, you don’t know yet what to do with the baby to make it happy or get it to stop crying. Bingo. The slightest move in the wrong direction was insanely painful. And most of those moves unsurprisingly happened during sleep. I felt like I was relearning everything.
 
When the nerve block wore off, I cried. I can’t imagine what the first 4 days would have been without it. It was a long, hard month. I pulled up all my warrior reserves at Physical Therapy and then came home and collapsed. 
Picture
I spent a lot of time in this old recliner.
I did everything I could to make things easy for Dave by organizing prior to the surgery. After the surgery, I simply had to cede control of anything but myself and my healing. Initially, the drugs made it easier, but still – me, not in control? In some ways, it was rather pleasant being cared for like a small child. My every whim was taken care of – tea at 4 am? Sure, honey. Dave started asking lovely questions like “What do you need that you haven’t asked for?” He knows me well. 
 
During an argument last year, Dave accused me of not trusting him. I was shocked. I didn’t think that was true, but it certainly made me ponder it. I came to see, eventually, that he was right. I didn’t deeply believe he’d be there to catch me if I fell off a cliff. Trust is a scary thing when you’ve been in a narcissistic relationship. Those scars heal a lot more slowly than my knee. 
 
Now, for the first time in our almost 20-year relationship, I had to trust him fully. He showed me I could depend on him to care for me, keep the house running, and keep us both fed with delicious meals. I simply closed my eyes to anything I might criticize and said “thank you” often. 
 
Our relationship is different now. Stronger. Slower. Deeper. More vulnerable on both sides. 
 
A nice side effect is that Dave wants to keep cooking most nights of the week. I have no idea why that was so hard to let go of – I’ve been cooking dinner for 40-some years now, and someone who is a good cook wants to do that for me? And grocery shop, too?  Why would I say “no?”  
 
Recently, I said “yes.” Wow. What a life. I work, I come home, dinner is on the way to the table. I feel like a 1950s husband, except he doesn’t greet me at the door in an apron with a cocktail. 
 
The most important thing I’ve deeply learned since my surgery is that letting go (of fear, distrust, control) does means having more. This recovery process is still unfolding, slowly moving forward. I wonder what’s next? 
0 Comments
<<Previous

    Robbin Marcus

    A new 21 weekday blog series on Slow Forward - gentleness with myself -  will begin on Monday, February 5, 2023
    ​Sign up on the 2/2/2023 post to receive it daily in your email.
    ​
    An occasional post from me, about stuff that interests me.

    2023 blog series:
    Slow Forward 
    2020 blog series:
    1) Processing - Experience, Thought, Action
    ​2) Diving for Light - Shedding     light on a dark time

    2019 blog series: 
    Exploring the Power of Habit 

    All
    Alexander Technique
    COVID-19
    Mindfulness

    Archives

    March 2023
    February 2023
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    November 2018
    August 2018

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly