Jubilation
Hi, my name is Catherine and I am a recovering codependent.
Codependency is an acquired mental health disorder, based on social conditioning and upbringing.
At its core, codependency means that I don’t didn’t love myself. I was not taught to love myself. Instead I was taught that to give all of myself to others made me a good person, and keeping myself to myself made me a bad person.
I was taught that self-love is shameful; by people who themselves had been shamed into not loving themselves by their own social conditioning and upbringing.
I’ve had enough. By not loving myself I have treated myself and others badly.
No more.
I now practice self-love.
Jubilation
I woke up at 05:00am on a Monday morning in late August of 2023. I made coffee, showered, dressed, made my face nice and then meditated and prayed, packed my bag and headed to the Gozo bus terminal. With every step I took I surrendered my will; my desire to control. I cleared my mind of anything outside of the present moment and connected with my higher power, asking for guidance and support on my travels.
“I surrender to the Divine Plan and seek only to control my experience of the day’s travels and events, not people, situations or outcomes. All is as it is meant to be”, became the mantra that I repeated in my head as the bus wound through the quaint suburbs of Gozo to the fast ferry. The morning light was exquisite, the bus contained a handful of early risers who were polite and courteous and I felt at ease with the world.
At the fast ferry, I bought a return ticket and took a comfy seat by the window. This particular boat has a kiosk manned by a British expat who reminds me of Johnny Walker, my BFG (Big Friendly Grandpa). I tuned my ears to BFGii gently bantering with the occasional customer and rested my eyes on the young sun showing off its glamour on the surface of the calm Mediterranean sea.
On my way to visit the rest room, I noticed that the majority of people were chilling out with their eyes closed, something I also enjoy doing on the fast ferry. I imagined us as a mobile bubble of meditative calm gliding through the living artwork of God’s mind that is the world.
I felt serene and present in the moment.
Connected
After disembarking I started walking to the circle. After 20 steps or so, my Being said other way so I checked my phone and indeed, I’d been walking in the wrong direction. I joined the cheerful bus crowd on the other side of the tunnel and successfully caught the correct bus. Happy among my equals I enjoyed the views offered by the coastal bus route and generally felt pleased with my lot in life. I felt humble, carefree, highspirited and joyful.
In my state of grateful surrender I was free to embrace the beauty of the moment.
At Mater Dei hospital I found the outpatients waiting hall, checked in with my higher power that this was where I was meant to be and spent most of an hour reading quietly. A volunteer offered coffee or tea to those waiting and there was a jovial, relaxed atmosphere in the hall. 9am, the time of my appointment rolled around. I waited for my name to be called but all of the people whose names were called went through the doors on the right-hand side of the room. None of them went through the doors to the ENT (ear, nose and throat) area.
At 09:05 I asked the security guard if was in the right place for the ENT unit. She told me the ENT unit has its own waiting room and directed me down the hall. In the ENT unit, I presented my appointment notification at the desk and was given a look that said, You’re late. We thought you weren’t coming. I was asked to take a seat and wait for my name to be called. I began to feel anxious because I’d been waiting for this appointment with this surgeon for four years. For the next hour-and-a-half I kept checking in with my higher power while I waited.
Did I screw up? I waited in the wrong waiting room. I thought You said that was where I was meant to be. I’m confused, I confessed to my higher power. All is well. Just wait, came the reply.
Am I on my path? Should I ask at the desk what’s going on? It’s worth the wait. Just wait.
I dunno, hey. It’s cold in here and the chair is uncomfortable. Am I being punished for screwing up? You’re right under the air vent. Change seats. Wait. It’s worth the wait. You’re worth the wait.
I surrender my will to God and welcome blessings and miracles. I’ll practice my patience, sensuality and gratitude. There’s a variegated pothos on the altar for me to look at. I’ll admire All’s handiwork and creativity and wait obediently. Well done. You’re doing great. You’re worth the wait.
In my state of loving acceptance I was able to connect with All and I spent my time in calm prayer and mindful meditation.
At 10:40 I was told to stand outside room 4. So I stood outside room 4.
Patients came and went from room 4 and still my name didn’t get called. I practiced my gratitude and love to entertain myself and found myself enjoying the tranquil harmonies of the noises in the department. I especially enjoyed the squeaky hiss of a wheelchair that came by which was accompanied by the murmurs of nurses at the reception desk and a softly beeping, rhythmically pumping, unseen machine. I was present and calm and cheerful.
By the time I arrived at this moment in my life I had realised - All is as All is, wonderfully so, and I became willing to engage my acceptance, gratitude and surrender. Whenever I got the urge to ask when my time would come, I reminded myself that I’m getting getting exactly what I want and need - my input isn’t necessary - and as a result I felt no desire to force, control or change the creative planning process that was behind it all. I enjoyed existing in faith and trust.
By this point in my self-love journey I was starting to see the Divine Plan at play in my life and I was recognising that engaging in synchronicity with the Divine Will by surrendering my ego and my will is this wondrously magical experience that is also known as going with the flow.
Patience
At 11:10 I was told to go stand outside room 2. So I stood outside room 2.
Beside the door was a board with inspirational quotes tacked to it. I enjoyed reading them while I waited. I practiced balancing on my toes, first one foot, then the other. Thoughts of this passageway becoming my new home crept into my head. I can buy toiletries at the 8 Till Late in the lobby. I can swop stories with the night staff. Could definitely sneak a plant into that corner. I danced with my umbrella and hummed a made-up tune with sparkles in it.
I don’t do boredom well, but I excel at entertaining myself.
A speaker at ear level, about a foot away from my head, blared my name on full blast and I was dumped back into reality.
In room 2 I found a fresh young specialist who showed me the inside of my head. It was really impressive. I didn’t know that sinuses are asymmetrical and oh-so-beautiful. Modern technology is super cool. The CT scan revealed no blockages or polyps, only healthy air ways and the deviated septum that makes my nose turn left a little before my feet do and can be quite confusing for onlookers when I am turning right.
The specialist examined my sinuses, asked some questions about how I’d found my way to into his room that day and then told me that some of his older colleagues - including the room 4 surgeon who had seen me at Gozo hospital four years prior and prescribed the surgery for me - believe that surgery is the cure for everything but he’s pretty sure that my biggest issue is allergies. He said he’d refer me to a colleague in the immunology department to do some tests and if necessary, to do exposure therapy to correct the allergies.
This was worth the wait.
I felt grateful that I had practiced the set of 10 values that Being had brought me to play with instead of attempting to control the day’s events.
I’ve yearned all my life to generate epiphanies with joyful methods instead of painful methods. I just didn’t know how. This beautiful moment in the young specialist’s office was the genesis of understanding; of realising how I can go about doing that.
I realise:
I am worthy of
caring and kindness.
I am worth the wait.
Grateful
As I listened to this wondrous news I felt waves of relief washing over me; coming from a soothing sea of my higher power’s love. I’d been so nervous about having this operation done. I sometimes feel so daunted by all that I need to do in order to catch up to my peers and become a functioning adult. Getting myself home from Mater Dei to Gozo after a major operation and then spending weeks healing alone was something that I didn’t feel enthused about - rather I’d felt resigned to and saddened by this fate.
My relief and gratitude emerged from me as he spoke and when he was done I enthusiastically shook the specialist’s hand, had a gush over how cool both the CT technology and the human body is and complimented his common sense and expertise. My delight was infectious and I had him laughing along with me by the time I sashayed out of the door.
Wilful
As I approached the hospital bus stop my glee faded. I had no-one to share my good news with. I felt sad for myself then. I tried to focus on my joy but self-pity crept in. As I waited I started feeling sadness throughout my body, like my bones were heavy and my flesh a sponge that was over-filled with chunky, rancid milk. I felt shame for allowing myself to get to a point where I have nobody in the world to share my joy with. I felt annoyed at myself for feeling ungrateful, like, why can’t I celebrate this? I should be celebrating myself.
So I decided that I would celebrate. Instead of catching a bus directly to the fast ferry I would take a different bus to the shopping district in Valetta, take myself out for lunch and window shopping and catch a later ferry.
The bus that waited in front of me was going to Valletta and I saw this as a sign that I should go to Valletta. As I stepped up to the doors, they swung closed and the driver pulled off. I didn’t view this as a sign that I shouldn’t go to Valletta, however, only that I shouldn’t take that specific bus so I climbed on the next bus to Valletta that pulled up seconds later.
I didn’t realise it but I had stopped practicing surrender and was now attempting to impose my will on the world. I was now operating from a desire to control my situation to effect my experience instead of the other way around.
Once on board, I noticed, just behind and to either side of my head, a kind of jiggy static that I don’t hear but rather experience, like someone scratching frantically with a pencil on a chalkboard while sheets of glass slide past one another at high speeds. Crap, I thought, because this is the sensation that I get when I’ve stepped off my path and severed my connection with my higher power. It’s an uncomfortable sensation of noisy, chaotic dread, like nothing is right in the world, and it only recedes when my wilfulness - and the chaos I’ve caused by being wilful - fades.
Panicked, flustered, I took out my phone to check the fast ferry schedule and discovered that I would need to kill two hours in Valletta before catching the next ferry - a lot longer than I had wanted. As I checked the ferry schedule updates on Facebook, a notification came through that the late afternoon ferries had been cancelled due to “inclement weather” and earlier ferries might get cancelled too.
News of possible inclement weather.
Disconnected
Bugger, I thought, I might have to bus across the country to the big ferry if the fast ferry is cancelled. Well, I’ll just make the best of it and play it by ear.
The bus filled up with impatient, irritable people. There was so little room that all I could do to prevent crotches from swaying into my face was stand my umbrella at my side as a barrier and turn my head away. Seemed like every body in there was farting. A man held an argument with a woman via speakerphone. A baby niggled and wailed, niggled and wailed. The bus was a creeping prison, a level of hell on wheels slowly crawling through the ugliest, most unloved parts of Malta. The air got hotter and smellier and when the bus finally belched us all out at Valletta; my love for my fellow man was at a low ebb.
My self-esteem was at a low ebb, too. Instead of heading to the health food restaurant I’d planned on, I chose a café based on the €6.50 plain omelette and chips advertised on a chalk board. It was a dump. The food was mediocre. A man stared at me while I ate and read my book. The waitress had a weird kind of imposing friendliness that I felt unsettled by.
The gathering clouds overhead reflected the gathering clouds inside me.
After leaving the restaurant I wandered around aimlessly. I went into a bookstore and killed time looking at books I had no interest in buying or reading. An email from the bookstore I was standing in came through on my phone about reimbursing me for the books they’d failed to send me, but at that point I needed to leave to walk to the ferry so I didn’t take it up with the store clerks.
I enjoyed the walk to the fast ferry and marvelled at the views of Valletta from Barrakka Lift stairs but still couldn’t shake my discomfort. My experience had soured and I just wanted to get home. I felt stuck in my ego and in my head. My thoughts were all self-shaming. I was in denial and trying to control my situation.
Hell
Just about every passenger on board that ferry puked.
I shared my supply of anti-nausea tablets with my neighbour so we two managed to keep our lunches down, but even with the medication we were pretty grim. Together we silently clutched our paper puke bags and practiced breathing slowly and evenly. Occasionally he murmured a prayer in Maltese and I’d echo his Amen. For all I know he could have been praying for a swift death but in my physical misery I was becoming increasingly open to that outcome.
The boat bounced around so violently that on numerous occasions all of the passengers were rattled about in our seats, which was fun and exciting in that horrifying OMG-I-don’t-feel-like-swimming-home-today kind of a way. We had some shriekers aboard that day too which made the experience even more hair-raising.
When I saw that we were pulling in to the Mgarr harbour in Gozo, I said, “We made it!” and clapped my hands. The people around me gave me wobbly smiles but no-one joined in my applause. I thanked the crew roundly on my way down the gangplank because truly; it was the smiles I received from each of them as they fetched and carried puke bags and helped passengers to the bathrooms that eased my anxiety during the trip.
The bus ride home smelled like vomit and relief, and I found my spirit lifting despite the fact that the bus was overfull with grumpy folks off the fast ferry. It was as the bus came to a halt in traffic and I looked out of my window directly at a blank sandstone wall that Being said,
This is the most beautiful moment of All.
I believed her and so I took the opportunity to meditate on that for the rest of the ride home.
Welcome
Once home, I changed into pyjamas and climbed into bed to recover with a siesta. Before I did that, I wrote a note that I put into my God Jar. The note read:
Coming Together
I am getting exactly what I want and need, without forcing or controlling or manipulating. My celebration of myself is being echoed by my reality. There are powerful creative forces responding to my expressed wishes for love and belonging and I am shyly and gratefully accepting what is being offered, acting from my fledgling sense of worthiness.
I am practicing the art form of thriving as opposed to the instinctive surviving that I have practiced until now by allowing my world to come together as All wishes it to be; wonderfully and beautifully so.
My practice of the 10 simple, essential values of acceptance, curiosity, faith, gratitude, love, play, sensuality, surrender, trust and willingness is starting to become easier. More and more I am having experiences of an extraordinary value that is exalted in biblical texts - rightfully so - jubilation.
