I recently commented on a favorite writer’s blog, the topic: point of surrender. People were generously commenting, sharing their personal experiences. My immediate thought was of my ongoing battle with autism. My fingers took to the keyboard and I replied, beginning in the middle of a thought.
“Letting go, trusting in the uncertainty, not knowing the outcome, but showing up and doing the work again anyway. I did this for over 20 years trying to teach my nonverbal autistic son how to communicate through pictures, sign language and verbal prompts. Showing up every day, over and over without immediate feedback, never knowing if he was listening, comprehending anything I was saying or doing. You can’t be tied to the outcome or how you get there. A therapist once told me about reaching my son (mentally) “If we can’t get through the door, we’re going through the window,” she said. I would end up going through a lot of windows and the rewards would not manifest for years. The lessons for me were of acceptance, persistence, consistence, trust and surrender. The day I let him go into the well-trained hands of strangers at his residential school was a point of surrender that felt like I was doing a free fall, admitting I could no longer care for him. The day I released my memoir was like birthing another child, putting my most private self, emotional experiences out into the public eye. I trusted, let go and surrendered it to share. This is how we learn, how we teach, how we grow.”
Whether we experience this as a battle with writer’s block, the bottle or our waistline, it’s an ongoing struggle that lurks just below the surface. It’s always there like a dark cloud hanging over our heads. Perhaps the point of surrender opens the door to acceptance; offering an opportunity to heal. The choice to walk through that door is up to you.