The Breaking of the Old, and the Breath of what Begins

In scaffolding, I mean the invisible structures of support we lean on -In relationships, beliefs, familiar comforts - that shield us from feeling vulnerable or exposed. It is these supports that hold us steady as we grow, often unseen until they fall away, revealing a backbone we did not even know we had. ~Sarah Blondin

The Breaking of the Old, and the Breath of what Begins. The invisible scaffolding that shapes us, and what remains when it’s gone.  This is a title borrowed from Sarah Blondin, from a meditation she offered so generously.

Sarah recounts a most beloved, elder maple tree snapping at her roots, falling over, to reveal a young maple sapling who was left standing for the first time on her own. It had been nurtured for as long as it needed, and then what might have appeared to be an ending, was actually a beginning for the sapling to grow strong, upright, in her own light.

I have been actively engaged in remembering the invisible scaffolding that has held me in the past, and currently is. The gift of guardians who stand vigil, until it is time to take a step to the side. Such a myriad of feelings are felt during this necessary, supportive season. I’m not sure we are ever prepared for when that changes, I know I wasn’t and it occurred much sooner than I had imagined. It does not always have to be a dramatic wrecking ball that must come in. Sometimes, just like the game, Jenga, gently removing one block at a time to discern what remains stable, still standing becomes our practice.

Everything is temporary, forever changing, and to choose to feel deeply, rather than slide into apathy and hopelessness is a choice. It’s okay and necessary to walk towards the pain even though everything screaming within us believed the contrary. It’s when we fall into a stupor of believing that all feelings are final that life can be tricky. Perhaps unable to alchemize; allowing shame and other uncomfortable emotions, followed by inertia to come creeping in quietly before we’ve even named who the intruder within our house is.

But what moved me the most was this: although it seemed she had held the sapling upright, it could only mature in her absence. Her fall looked like an ending-but maybe it is something new beginning, Sarah adds.

My parents were my first scaffolding. I was not ready for my father’s role and support to change so rapidly upon their divorce. It felt confusing, lonely, and I could not fill in for my father to soothe my mother, nor could she with me. Left unmoored, abandoned, and cut adrift, untethered to life we had once lived, and no shoreline in sight yet. We showed up for one another as best as we could, yet we were being forced to root into foreign soil now. Hardly any tell tale roots left behind from his whirl wind and inconsolable rupture that was left in his wake. It was every woman for herself.

Where I sought solace, comfort, and some sense of normalcy was at my big Irish Catholic boyfriend’s home. So much so, that Greg’s mom often worried and checked in on my mother to see if she was lonesome and desired to come over. My mother’s response was selfless. Delighted I was happy, and of course we hung out at my house as well, yet the action was at Greg’s with his five siblings too, (mine were both off in college.)

Maureen and Harry, my boyfriend's parents. They loved me well, and were my scaffolding

That often unbalanced, frightening, yet oh, so grown up feeling when the training wheels came off the bike. I thought my father was holding me, yet when I turned around all I could see was his grinning face, and waving hands from down the street. Often not crashing, until the realization of the scaffolding that I thought was keeping me upright had been removed. I was sailing along, doing what my young body knew how to do instinctively, only until my mind fearfully entangled itself and persuaded my body otherwise.

Therapy, 12 step groups, mentoring relationships and the like can become our invisible scaffolding. Healing, holding us for as long as it does. Sometimes we might become a lifer and that’s as it needs to be. It may take some time to grow and strengthen our sea legs. Yet, somehow we do. Remembering if a refresher, a check in is desired we have our tools at hand and contact lists up to date.

We grow not despite what leaves us, but because it does. ~ SB

Speaking of growth. Look at Trinie, now. Three and a half months in age.