“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way round or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless. Like water. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

Bruce Lee

That’s a tall order; be like water.

Still, within the past ten years, I’ve been placing that order… with myself. I’m hardly the sinewy animal, fighting and adapting to each adversary; it’s not quite Bruce Lee.

Rather, it’s more like this. I’m coping. It doesn’t sound as ferocious. But I’m doing my own adaptation of the “be like water” principle. There are three main forms it can take: liquid, solid and gas. I started seeing, however unconsciously, I have been taking on those varying forms within the past ten years.

Liquid:

This is what most of us visualize when we think of water- its liquid form. And it’s powerful.

Water can drown. Water can give and sustain life. Water refreshes. Water ruins. But always, water, in liquid form, is fluid, ever- changing shape, adapting, coursing through its pathway.

As my life has become more complicated, through the caretaking of my mother and my diagnosis, I’ve become more familiar with it, via tears.

Yep, I’m crying a lot these days. And, while that may not seem especially noteworthy, the context of those tears, for me, is. I have cried in public more often now. Cancer and caregiving can do that to a person.

I’ve always been self-conscious about crying in front of people. My early abuse experiences taught me that vulnerability was weakness- and could, therefore, be exploited. So, don’t cry. Have your limbs torn from your body, bleed profusely, lose everything dear to you and be eternally lonely, but whatever you do, do not cry.

Since my diagnosis, I have cried in front of therapists and specialists who were virtual strangers. Often, my tears were a surprise to me, as I convinced myself I could keep it together. But, inevitably, things would bubble up when a certain person asked me questions about my life, even something as mundane as the spelling of my name or my birthdate. Tears. Ever-so quietly and slowly, a tissue box is slid in my direction. I get empathy eyes. And no one pounces on me.

But here’s the caveat to that point: these individuals are safe. One still needs to be wise about who is around them. Not everyone is to be trusted.

Still, realizing that I could cry and the world would not explode on me was helpful. Granted, it’s not the most comfortable feeling to cry in front of others, especially when they’re strangers, but I give myself the permission to have the release valve I need. Tears allow toxic, painful emotions to flow away from us, literally.

After my diagnosis, I finally realized I had to get more honest and accepting of my true feelings, tear-driven ones included; to refuse to do so could be deadly.

So, yes, Bruce Lee, I am like water here.

Solid:

Of course, with all of these tears, and all of this feeling, I still encountered harmful instances of people who were just not “getting it.” Here comes the unsolicited advice and judgment from people who believed they knew more about my body, my thoughts and my life than I did. And, after politely telling them, “no thank you,” regarding their responses, I employed the next form of water, my icy backbone.

Yes, sometimes, I have had to take a rigid stance, especially with boundaries. Some people I’ve come across have made thoroughly upsetting comments. They have told me “it’s too late for me.” Maybe, they thought this was “Scared Straight.” Maybe they thought fear was motivational. Here’s some feedback; it’s not, at least not for me, anyway.

So, I have gotten a primer on being this solid form of H2O. Ice is rigid water and may, at first glance, look like a formidable spine. But never forget, it can fracture easily. Care must be taken with this solid form. This icy incarnation can shatter into shards.

And, depending upon the circumstances, I must act accordingly. I will freeze out harmful people.

Sometimes, in life, I have to be a real icicle.

I follow Bruce Lee’s advice again; I am like water.

Gas:

Piggybacking this sentiment, I have had revelations about the third form water takes: gas (or mist). Sometimes, for all of the feeling, boundary- enforcing and backbone-creating, I am left with only my final option: dissipation. Sometimes, I just have to get gone and completely remove myself from a harmful situation.

I dissipate, when I need to. Mist is stealth. It’s the least visible of all three forms of water. My lack of presence in some people’s lives is quiet. Dying by attrition. Paraphrasing Dr. Maya Angelou’s advice, “I saw these people for who they were- and I believed them.”

Case in point: one particular event, involving my blood relatives. I went a few rounds with them, in which I said “no,” firmly and politely, to their requests that were simply too expensive for me to grant. More to point, I didn’t want to grant these requests. So, I said “no.” Cajoling and retaliation have since ensued, not the least of which was being called a ***** for my stance. Family fun.

And, this was long before I learned the empowered acronym entrepreneur/hairstylist, Tabitha Coffey employs: Brave-Intelligent-Tenacious-Creative-Honest.

I know this acronym was certainly not my blood relatives’ intention. Using the word as an insulting slur, however, was. So, I’d finally seen- and heard– what I was encountering. Abuse isn’t just getting hit; it’s the refusal to respect a person’s “no,” especially, when another party is only wanting a “yes.” My final recourse was to stop all contact. I evaporated from their lives. And, more than likely, these individuals have not noticed. They only notice if they “need” something from me. I am not readily available for that.

So, here I am, again, following Bruce Lee’s advice. I am like water. I am mist.

States of Being:
Concerning water, we’re still quite clueless about this its mysteries. Water holds power in what we do not know (yet). But it exists, nonetheless, being, without apology. Be like water. It offers no explanation; the onus is on us to discover more about its savage beauty, healing and purpose.

Maybe that was what Bruce Lee was trying to say.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse