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Many
years ago, my children wanted a pet. They wanted a
puppy, but I said no. We had tried a bird, but its
feathers fell off. I suggested a goldfish, but we
settled on a gerbil instead.
One
day, the gerbil got loose. It got out of its cage
and scurried across the floor. It ran so fast that
none of us could catch it. We watched as it
disappeared under a crack in the wall. We stood
around, wondering what to do, but there wasn't that much
that could be done.
In
the months that followed, the gerbil made timely
appearances. It would scurry out from behind the
walls, run across the room, then dart back into the
walls. We'd chase it, lunging after it and screaming
as we ran.
"There
he is. Catch him!"
I
worried about the gerbil, even when we didn't see
it. "This isn't right," I'd think.
"I can't have a gerbil running loose in the
house. We've got to catch it. We've got to do
something."
A
small animal the size of a mouse had the entire household
in a tizzy.
One
day, while sitting in the living room, I watched the
animal scurry across the hallway. I started to lunge
at it, as I usually did, then I stopped myself.
"No,"
I said. "I'm all done. If that animal
wants to live in the nooks and crannies of this house, I'm
going to let it. I'm done worrying about it.
I'm done chasing it."
I
let the gerbil run past without reacting. I felt
slightly uncomfortable with my new reaction--not
reacting--but I stuck to it anyway. Before long, I
became downright peaceful with the situation. I had
stopped fighting the gerbil. One afternoon, only
weeks after I started practicing my new attitude, the
gerbil ran by me, as it had so many times, and I barely
glanced at it. The animal stopped in its tracks,
turned around, and looked at me. I started to lunge
at it. It started to run away. I relaxed.
"Fine,"
I said. "Do what you want." And I
meant it.
About
an hour later, the gerbil came and stood by me, and
waited. I gently picked it up and placed it in its
cage, where it happily reestablished its home. Don't
lunge at the gerbil. He's already frightened, and
chasing him just scares him more and makes us crazy, too.
Is
there someone you'd like to get close to? Is there
an irregular circumstance in your life that you can't
change? Detachment, particularly detaching in love,
helps.
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More
Language of Letting Go
Melody Beattie once again distills her compassionate insight
on how to nurture spiritual and emotional health and
recovery. With her attention turned to relationships and all
the joys and challenges they create, the author's
reflections give voice to the thoughts and feelings common
to men and women in recovery.
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