The Ripple Effect

There are many things that make a difference in our lives, whether it be a huge life event or a small daily struggle. If a big boulder or a small pebble is dropped into the waters of our lives, it has a ripple effect that reaches into many areas that affect our daily living. Even if it is a whole shovel full or one small pebble, those pebbles ripple out to areas we don’t expect.

I find that what I concentrate on becomes the undercurrent of my day. My attitude can become my pebble, and I can make that pebble as big of a boulder as I wish. It can be a small hindrance, or a big life event that reaches into all areas of my life.

If I’m not careful, I tent to be a catastrophizer. I will find a problem, then work out every way it could go wrong. I have conversations in my head with people that I would never normally encounter in real life, because they are too toxic and dangerous for my emotional health. If I stay too long with this in my mind, it begins to affect the way I approach my day-to-day life. Every chore seems like a dangerous journey.

I have a friend who recently came over to my house. We don’t know each other’s history very well, and he began to tell his story to me. That day, we didn’t have time to dive into mine, but the whole next week, I couldn’t help but think that I’ll have to go into my story next. I’ll have to reveal myself to him. It got to the point that my history kept reliving itself in my brain and I had to write part of it down again. There are parts of it that aren’t pretty. But then I read a passage in a daily reflection about surveying the past, not reliving it and not staying in it. And if I want the ripples in my pond to be good ones, why put past ripples in there? Why throw old stones into the pond? My friend can meet me now, can know the me that is now. I don’t need to drag up old history to be his friend. To be my friend is to take me as I am right now.

I can tell I’m making better choices and putting better stones in my pond. The ripples are better. In my poems I wrote in the past, when I was drinking and when my mental illness was not maintained, my poems ended poorly — many of them were sad and hopeless. But now, even the poems that need to be written to work something out, even the poems that walk through pain — at the end of these, there is a glimmer of healing, a sense of hope.

So no matter the stones, boulders, and pebbles that are thrown your way — you can’t choose them all — they will affect many areas of your life. What you can choose is how they will affect you, what you spend your time on.

May your ripples be ones of hope and healing.

7–6–21

Tansy Julie Soaring Eagle Paschold