Arms Wide Open

HAZEL: What’s this song about?

She has been obsessed with what songs are about recently. Which, as a lyric girl, is so fun for me. So far we’ve talked about emotions via “Heatwave” by Martha and the Vandellas, being embarrassed about emotions via “Big Girls Don’t Cry” by Fergie, friendship via “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” by Randy Newman, and of course, thanks to Sir Mix-a-Lot, we’ve talked about liking big butts. Right now we are in the car on the way home from school. At the start of the ride I had turned the iHeart Radio algorithm to Nelly Furtado’s “I’m Like a Bird” and let it take us on a journey. Eventually we ended up at Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten.”

ME: This song is about how the rest of your life is always in front of you. Which is especially true for you, because you are young, but it is actually true for everyone. It’s not the end until it’s the end.

I look back at her in the mirror, that was way too many words. I grab out phrases for her pausing to explain.

ME: She says “staring at the blank page before you” like when you take out a new paper to draw, it’s a fresh start. “Open up the dirty window” meaning don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty. You’re great at that!

HAZEL: Like when I paint with my fingers!

ME: Exactly! And when you’re not afraid of getting messy you have more fun.

HAZEL: Like at school. 

ME: You get so messy and so much fun at school. Because you’re brave!

She smiles out the window.

ME: And she says “feel the rain on your skin” similarly, meaning don’t be afraid to get a little wet and uncomfortable, because if you’re focused on being comfortable you’ll miss out on the fun of life. Like when you jumped in puddles outside our house even without shoes on. You knew Mommy would help you dry off after, so you could just focus on the fun.

HAZEL: It’s fun to jump in puddles!

ME: Heck yeah it is! Then she says “live your life with arms wide open” which means embrace life, be ready to give it a big hug. But also don’t live out of fear.

I look back at her, she is looking out the window, processing.

ME: Do you remember that girl at the park who wouldn’t share her toys?

HAZEL: I asked if I could play with one of her barbie’s and she said “no!”

ME: Yeah and then Miles asked if he could play with a toy.

HAZEL: She said “no!”

ME: Yeah, and what did she do with her hands?

HAZEL: She was holding all her toys.

ME: Yeah, she was holding all her toys. She had a lot, so she had to use her whole arms to gather them in the sand box. Was she playing with any of them?

HAZEL: No, she was just holding them.

ME: Yeah, she couldn’t even play with them because she was so focused on keeping them. You need at least one hand to play and hers were full. What do you think she was feeling?

HAZEL: What do you think she was feeling?

This is a new thing she’s been doing when she doesn’t know the answer to a question where she just parrots it back to me. Honestly, brilliant.

ME: Well, she was crying, so I think she was sad, and maybe scared.

HAZEL: She was sad.

ME: Yeah, was she having fun?

HAZEL: No.

ME: No, because when you’re focused on what you might lose you can’t enjoy what you have. Also, if she shared you could’ve played together. So she was missing out on new friends. So that’s why you “live your life with arms wide open” because if you live out of fear your life becomes smaller.

Fuck, I love having a daughter. She forces me to see the world through fresh eyes, it is a balm.

I’ve been thinking about friends recently. I talk a lot about mine and Matt’s community and how lucky we are and that is true, but it’s also true that not everyone stuck around. There are people we know and were close to before Matt’s stroke that have disappeared from his life. People I reached out to multiple times offering different ways to be involved, but never showed. My most generous reading of these people is that they are uncomfortable seeing Matt because they are afraid of seeing their own mortality or fragility. I get it, it’s scary to look in the mirror when you’re tripping on life. You may see something you don’t like, something that means you have to change, and change is uncomfortable.

But here’s the thing about life, uncomfortability is unavoidable. Matt would say this is Protestant of me, but I’d argue the uncomfortable parts of life are what make the pleasurable parts pleasurable. My exhale feels deeper after I hold my breath. My legs feel lighter after I sprint. The mountains wouldn’t feel so high if the valleys weren’t so low. Maybe I’m an adrenaline junky, but I prefer a rollercoaster with ups and downs. Ok, that’s enough metaphors. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ve been habituated to this way of thinking by being exposed to pain and loss early in life. But everyone I’ve met who disagrees, who lives life avoiding pain, is miserable.

I recently reached out to one of Matt’s friends we hadn’t heard from in a while. Not someone who disappeared, I try to go where the love is, but someone who was fading a bit. I was feeling angry and protective and helpless and to be honest, I was feeling abandoned too. I can’t be everything to Matt: wife, caregiver, physical therapist, occupational therapist, speech therapist, regular therapist, secretary, nurse AND friend. I said what I had been afraid to say, moving through my own discomfort of confrontation. But I reminded myself that I have done hard things before and I could do this too, no matter the outcome. I said some things and held my tongue on others.

I told them to call Matt. I didn’t hear back, but later that day Matt’s phone rang. I saw him see the call and the look of fear on his face, he groaned. I saw his fear of not communicating clearly, because of his aphasia. I saw his fear of failure and rejection. But his desire to connect won, his love for his friend overshadowed the fear. He picked up the phone. The first words were awkward but within seconds they were shooting the shit. It was maybe a 10 minute phone call but it brightened Matt’s whole day. I messaged the friend and I could tell they felt lighter. I also felt like a weight was lifted, or maybe I was just getting stronger.

If you constantly turn away from discomfort your emotional muscles deteriorate, you go deeper and deeper inward. Your world gets smaller and your walls get thicker. That type of comfort is fleeting, it won’t be long until something else comes along to make you uncomfortable because what you’re really uncomfortable with is yourself. Maybe you’ll feel safe for a bit but what is the point of comfort if your comfort zone is so small that you can’t breathe? What is the point of toys if you have nobody to play with?

Open up the dirty window, you may find you can breath easier and someone might be waving to you from the other side. And in that practice of getting your hands dirty, you might find a longer lasting comfort. The comfort of knowing you can do uncomfortable things and come out the other side. You might even enjoy it and make new friends. If you read this and feel like you are living out of fear, take solace in the fact that the rest is still unwritten. Get uncomfortable now, so you can rest in peace later.