Relationships Change Form and the Law of Conservation of Energy

Eight years after my first mentor died, a dream summoned me to contact his young widow, Marie. Was it a dream, a nightmare or a premonition?  People can be like that: one second, a knight in shining armor, and the next, the dark horse trampling on your lucidity. And, as much as I would like to write off Marie as a “bad person,” I cannot in good conscience deny the gifts she shared with me during our professional collaboration and spiritual tutelage.  

Relationships change form

In 2011, Marie lost her first love, my first mentor, Larry. Miraculously, she was given a second chance at love. Marie married and started a new life and family with a charismatic man. Marie shared that she still felt very much in a relationship with her late husband. Larry was a part of her life. She still felt his energy and received his guidance. However, the relationship had changed form. He was no longer her husband. He wasn't the father of her kids. He wasn't her romantic partner: her lover. Once a year, Marie would perform a special ceremony to honor Larry and his transition.

I hear Marie's words especially now as I navigate some relationships changing form.

Last Saturday, I discovered a healthy 45-year-old friend had died unexpectedly in his apartment. Earlier this year, my 47-year-old yoga mentor of nine years suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. She died shortly after. Over the past three years, I have also watched my dad's health decline drastically and dramatically, culminating in him requiring 24-hour care. Our relationship is changing form. He still is my dad, spirited as ever. Still one to inform me that my skin is breaking out, still urging me to make something of my professional life. But he is physically weak, and the sharpness of his mind has faded. He isn't aware of his physical limitations. The relationship has changed form. I know my parents' relationship has changed over the last 55 years they have spent together. Out of respect, I won't delve there. My relationship with my mom has always been strong: built on mutual respect, love, and shared interests. But our relationship is changing form as I take on more responsibilities.

Recently, my romantic relationship changed form. Sometimes, I stay up at night trying to figure out what the catalyst was: was it me, was it him, was it the neurological diagnosis? I need to find a new sleeping medication, as melatonin is apparently linked to heart failure. Although I do suspect my heart has sustained puncture wounds. So perhaps this is a moot point.

Relationships change form. But what happens to those of us left in the land of the living? The law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. So we shift from children to caregivers. We shift from mother and daughter to team captain and lieutenant.

The other person dies, they disappear, they walk away. The relationship changes form, but what do we do with this dissonance: the space between what we were and who we are now?

Because in one way or another, we have been abandoned.

Relationships change form. But there is energy—kinetic energy left behind. That longing for what was or what could have been. Even if you accept the change, something is left behind. Where does that energy go? It can go into your brain and cause you to spin in circles. But most of us caregivers do not have time for that. So the energy goes into our lovely bodies.

Where Are You Feeling the Pain?

Take a step back for a moment. Sit back in your chair, and ask yourself, "Where am I feeling the pain in my body?"

If you have been running around, you might need to take a second. So take a few breaths and ask yourself. Maybe roll your neck a bit? Is your neck feeling sore? Bring your shoulders up and down the back. Stand up. What's going on with your hips and knees and those precious ankles? Are you hungry? When did you last eat? Does food sit like bricks in your digestive system? Are you having regular bowel movements? Are you sleeping? Are you breaking out in weird rashes? Your body is sending warning signals. When life gets tough, we grin and bear it and do what we need to do to get through the day. Your mind is so powerful, and you can convince yourself you can do it: just another five minutes, another day. But your body is listening: your body feels tension. You can lie to your brain, but not your body.

So what now? See what you can relax any chance you get. Sometimes, where you hold the tension is the last place you think to look. Roll your shoulders. Notice if the epicenter of the tightness is your shoulders, your neck, or your heart. Sometimes, when our chests are tight, the heart isn't able to pump the circulation needed to the extremities—causing stiff joints in the ankles and wrists. Consider that maybe the tension is coming from somewhere you might not expect. Your heart. Your lower back: the sense of belonging on a tribal level. Get curious (not judgmental) about your body. Begin to develop a relationship with your body.

It doesn't matter how much you meditate or practice yoga. You are not God. You cannot keep people from dying. You cannot keep everyone safe. And if you are caring for someone around the clock, there isn't time for these long check-in mindfulness practices. But if you find yourself with five minutes, put your phone down and just get curious. Where do you feel the stretch? Where do you feel the tension? What is your body trying to tell you? This awareness—this connection to your body—can empower you. You can connect to yourself at a cellular level. At a spiritual level.

Relationships change form. Often, we do not get a choice in this matter. Listen to what your body is trying to tell you. Take care of yourself and your precious energy. There are no good or bad people. We are just all trying to do the best we can with the time we have here.