There are times in our life where we need that so badly that we accept it in the form of someone who doesnāt keep us safe.
Then what?
Only to be shown whatās possible but then put them back up even thicker.
Needs are an interesting thing.
Iād venture many if not most broken relationships are the result of not being able to communicate our needs and be responsive enough in the demands of the culture and society we live in.
I used to think America was the greatest.
Because I was told that right. Now Iām leaning much more towards it emphasizes all the wrong things.
What fundamentals are we built on? Stepping on the backs of others to achieve our own status while not considering others. A beautiful Instagram feed?!
When mostly behind the pictures are struggling lost souls.
There is no pleasure allowed, only the pursuit of the American dream.
Iām finding at this point in my life other cultures have it so much more figured out. That life is also about family and connection and pleasure and the TIME to have those things.
Time!
How is one to have time if they have not achieved societyās idea of the American Dream.
But what are my dreams ?! Where are my dreams?
Completing the stress response cycle ? Perhaps. Hint Emily Nagowski probably spelled wrong.
I dream of not having my trauma and coping mechanisms dictate my life.
I know Iām far from isolated in that dream. Many people share it and are seeking exactly that in my office.
Spoiler: I donāt have it figured out either, but I desire that.
Thereās desire! Hi my old friend how have you been?
I need to understand you better.
Youāve caused such grief in my life, but also had my back and opened so many doors.
You raging compass.
You really fuck me up sometimes ā¦..
But you also led me to my true self and north.
Whyās it gotta be so complicated. You get it Avril, and Taylor, and Pinkā¦..
Music you get me. Iām writing this to the tune of the piano guys radio.
Music pulls down my walls and gives me back to myself.
Itās why I want to play it, listen to it, more fully experience it and myself. Donāt forget yourself champ. But how ?!
And the song ended.
Now maybe there will be a different rhythm to my writing.
Iām sweaty and lost and sad on a Monday morning. And Iām also hopeful and excited about the possibilities of the day. These are my defaults as much as anything else. Thank god.
Music stimulates my brain in the right way to bring the walls down. Itās steady. I am in control. If I donāt like a song I change it. But I rarely do actually. I like to take in everything music has to teach me because itās safe.
Writing is too I am learning and Iām finally letting go and doing it.
Having no idea the outcome.
The guy in 22 is trying to navigate his grass. He stands over it puzzled begging it to look as nice as the other lawns. But heās just beginning. Someday it will because of his patient attendance and devotion.
So itās one day at a time for now with music, walking, reading and writing.
Finding balance between thinking and feeling. Head and heart.
They are navigating tooā¦..creating their connection.
āYou can do something now to live the life you want to live.ā
Grrr this was written the other day. And now Iām on a different one but just noticed this didnāt post.
Running book title: Understanding me.
If I wrote a book now that might be what it would be entitled right now. Thatās what Iām working at each day.
Now that Iām not desperately trying to understand the actions of someone else (most of the time ;)), I am figuring out what I want, need, etc. Go figure. And also for me, easier said than done.
So today I find myself in the Storrs Library just over the CT state line. Iām here for my insert number here energy healing. I wonder how many thatās a good question.
I went to look it up on Venmo because Iām me, and the internet here inside the library has not lived up to my patience threshold. I crack myself up. So maybe something to get a statistic on later, if I remember. Slim chance.
So Iām sitting in the library with Things That Matter by Joshua Becker on my lap. Knew nothing about this book before I opened it. So far it begs you to ask the question of what you would regret about not finishing in your life. It speaks of a personās work with the dung and their shared regrets and those commonalities.
Itās talking about how to live focusing (my fear kicks in with self knowledge here, my arch nemesis), on how to achieve the focus necessary to live according to your priorities.
Living in a way that makes a difference and not āwastingā that.
If you were to die today, what one thing (or few things) would you be most disappointed that you werenāt capable to complete.
Letās see if I can work through mine here. There is the obvious sharing of my story and writing a book, the two may not be mutually exclusive. Iām still figuring out that.
I would regret not having fully apologized to those Iāve loved, where appropriate, based on the understanding I now have of myself.
Perhaps I would regret not giving enough attention to develop a counseling theory or movement based on the knowledge I have.
And not having a healthier relationship with myself, how I treat myself etc.
So I suppose reading this itās pretty clear Iām on the path. Thatās comforting. Seriously.
I just read make it a point to read books from different centuries because it will come from a different perspective and will challenge your thinking in new ways! Thatās why East of Eden! Woooo! Iām ahead of the game.
So these are the five regrets people citedā¦
š
And our time together today in this blog is almost at a close. I certainly do not regret making this post.
What I learned today is how close I am to living my life in a way that leaves few regrets and I could have lost all of that by obsessing over some of my mistakes and getting lost in them.
Stop it! I say to myselfā¦ stop it and carry on.
Onward! (Thanks Liz) and now I can truly embody and feel that message and how you got to it.
All my love, all of it!
C
Ps lately my thoughts are highly influenced by Soul Friends and exploring the connection that have most deeply impacted me, trauma work, understanding what triggers my symptoms and how that affects my life. Also the reading of Come as You Are, as well as Letting Go. Energy healings, movement, nature, self discovery, reflections, and the places that shows or songs or moving or reading take me.
Itās a gorgeous Sunday. I feel beautiful. Clear and peaceful and calm. Whole. Myself.
I no longer feel Iām outside of my body watching my life, or that I donāt deserve things coming my way today, or any other. Now I say this, but there are moments. The pain is not gone, my trauma is not gone.
Iāve just found a lot more peace in living, created a lot more.
I do however want to write more. I went to Kripalu and that was such an experience and I want to capture it. I made new and dear writer friends. I read bravely, shaking and crying even, but without hesitation and without shame.
I showed up!
I wrote pieces I didnāt know I had in me, many fragments of my life.
Sea glass.
I found myself in others there and vice versa.
I found out Iām a poet, a lyricist, that thereās a rhythm to my writing, and that Iām all in. I knew that. But I donāt mind finding out over and over.
Iām all in. With my whole heart.
This day feels beautiful. It doesnāt just look it. Iām no longer invisible or trying to make myself that way. So much unworthiness is being shedded.
I feel loved. I feel seen.
And I feel felt.
My home is full of loving people and music and food and joy. When I observe from the outside this is what I see and hear. People feel welcome and loved here.
I have new piano lessons that are so much better than the other. And I was able to realize that I didnāt lose any of what I learned (we never do). Once itās in there itās in there.
I got paperwork Friday to move forward with changing my name. Yes, I am being adopted at 42 years old, and no I donāt mind the administrative nightmare that ensues. I had been avoiding because of that.
I had a hospital trip last week, and a nurse said my last name and it felt weird. I donāt think Iāve ever felt I belonged to a last name. Sadly even those I share with my children, and is also the name of my business. It would be so easy to go back to that one. And also has the bonus of sharing it with my kids.
I need to belong to myself, and I also want to belong to a family that has known young me, that has shaped me, and that showed up.
Iāve spent long and hard thinking about this and even though I had acceptance and love from a family I kept it at armās length because of fear. They will write that on my grave perhaps. I was too afraid to lose it and that they were just being nice and every other fear you can imagine. Judging myself left and right. Analytical to a fault.
Iām done with that. It is with an open heart only, and still some better senses about me, that I choose to embark on the rest of my life.
How did you do it?! Not lose your heartā¦.. it wasnāt easy.
So I am going to be Christina Nicole Jenkins soon.
When I think of love and being loved itās them that I think of when it comes to family. Them that have known and loved me all the years of my life unconditionally and without expectation or becoming upset with me for the choices Iāve made.
When I think of how I love. How I include my daughterās boyfriend as heās one of the family, and holidays, it is them I have modeled the most after. How I have loved friends as my own, my desire to make anyone in my area feel like family. Thatās me. Thatās my own. It always was.
My first love Michael Jenkins and Iā¦ we are still in love. Not the romantic be together kind, but the kind who experienced first love together. I always did wish to marry him, so the last name will do. š I feel warm and safe and seen and felt all these years later with him, and the family who loved me naturally. With him or not. They love me for me.
They just lost a daughter recently. My heart hurts for them. Iām sorry.
So Iām just realizing more recently a lot more about love. What it is. Who I am in its arms. How itās shaped my life. Whether it was the having of it or the lacking of it. Whether it was lightning bolt love that jolts you awake to so many things, slow love that is learned, love of a friend, love of self, passion, vocation, nature.
What is love is my writing prompt from Melissa. And even if I do know a lot more about what itās not, I am an eager student.
I used to just go blank when Melissa would ask me anything about me.
So on this Motherās Day I have a mother and I am a mother, and thereās no internal conflict or pit of pain and despair to be found.
My life is āgood enoughā, not longing for anything else. Always that burning longingā¦. a purgatory my childhood years left me to resolve and Iāve turned pain into art.
The art of life itself.
And I love living.
So Iām sitting here pondering the consistent stable things Iāve created this past two years.
I am consistent and committed to my healing. Which includes routines I crave and love. They include exercise, nature, connection, writing, touch, learning, reading, and play. In no particular order because writing would be first, though play in last does track.
And little by little the hyper vigilant guard letās down my walls and I swim in a sea of love without drowning or jumping out. Iām finding ways to navigate the waters. Ways into and out of myself that are constructive rather than destructive.
Itās not perfect. Iām still doing a lot of grieving. My heart is still heavy in ways that are felt in daily life, especially on holidays, and milestones. There are aches of what was, and what never was. Phantom limbs that tingle. Vivid moments.
I still do grief rituals. Deep moments of allowing. No blocking.
Those are part of life now, and I donāt worry that they will bitter the sweet. They are the product of a life well lived of pursuing that which sets my heart on fire and thereās no shame in that.
I have nothing to be ashamed of or regret, only to peacefully sort my way through gently, ever so gentle with my heart.
Tread softly on me. I have a lot of scars.
I deal with a lot of pain physically and emotionally daily. Thatās normal for me. My normal. When I get too down about it life gets harder. When I have some story like Iām meant to be this suffering thing. Thatās ridiculous.
I just take things one day at a time and get better at coping with those difficulties and at being at home inside my body and with my wide open heart.
This is where I am š
Itās the first Motherās Day Iāve truly let go and forgiven myself for not being able to stay where I was being harmed. Not wondering if I would attend a funeral for someone who died for me a long time ago. For someone who didnāt consider my well being.
How can a mother ever be that way with a child. Iām not perfect, not near to it, but Iād never give up becoming a mother.
I never give up, and I am loyal when safely connected and seen and felt.
I would have stayed loving her if it wasnāt burning me alive.
She never became a mother.
And thankfully I did and am.
Itās hard to not regret how long itās taken me to get here. To give without resentment and that edge I always had. It creeps up like bile crawling up my throat. I now know where to put it, and life is much easier.
I want to give now. Iām not as exhausted all the time now.
I want to be a mother and someday a grandmother who my loved ones feel felt by. That I am able to pay attention to them without getting overstimulated, freezing, isolating, fawning, covered in panic.
Separated off in my mind in some terrible intrusion.
So I do the work, walk the line, show up.
Iām emotional often now. Like a raw exposed nerve. Like a burn victim. No longer reacting at every touch. I can lean in to connection and learn.
Itās humbling and rewarding and I am present and accountable.
All my loveā¦
Mom
Ps: oh and the entire reason I began writing was to write about my schedule adjustment, and how that feels, but this feels complete. So next postā¦. My writing has a mind of itās own and takes me on the ride.
āMany people say that you have to love yourself first before you can love others, but really, if you learn to love others, you will learn to love yourself.ā
There really is no place like home.
I have roots, who knew. The Mountain is You speaks to uprooting and it resonates greatly to how I lived my life so many years.
Have I mentioned that I hate flying ?
And I love seeing and experiencing new things. So thereās a lot to manage there. I am adventurous but also nearly crippled by the level of anxiety signals and the ease with which they become activated.
For example I cannot make my mind settle for statistics on the safety of flying when my body knows Iām sailing above the clouds in a sophisticated tin can thousands of feet in the air. My entire body is tense until landing and despite how I distract or medicate myself, the body knows imminent death is at hand.
It takes days to recover from even a tame venture that involves flying. I may be a feet on the ground kind of gal. And is that alright !!? Now I want to listen to that song.
And I shall.
Connecticut has become home.
The air is home. I feel something upon returning. My feelings often take me by surprise. Mostly that I can feel them at all in real time. Itās startling and sometimes unsettling, even the good, especially the good.
The only thing we need to do with feelings is feel them. Who knew this? I thought a feeling means you must take an immediate action. Iām a good little soldier after all. š
I want you to look right in my eyes, to tell me you love me, to be by my sideā¦.
Want to see your face as I fall with grace at the moment I dieā¦..
My mission to go to a book store on any trip I take and then inscribe the front page with date, time, and thoughts about my travel almost did not come to fruition. Florida doesnāt believe in books apparently. But I was determined so I ended up with The Invisible Life of Addie Larue by V.E. Schwab. This book is interesting to say the least. Itās a little tough to follow in the beginning, but Iām confident the threads will come together.
My hope is to leave a library of my experiences and thoughts for my children and their children. I hope to pass down my love for books and hope that electronics donāt ever swallow them, as they have so many other beautiful things. Like the ability to think and be bored.
I finished most of East of Eden in 2 days which was a breathless experience. Lost inside her pages. I am home there too. Weaving my own story in my mind as I experience anotherās creativity. It awakens mine.
Speaking of that Iāll be at Victoria Ericksonās writing workshop at Kripalu this weekend. A last minute choice. So absolutely necessary. I also have Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell in June. What life is this?!
I went down to my office this morning and I experienced such overwhelming comfort. My sacred healing space. So many intimate moments held there. Realizations. Tears. So many painful memories left in my keeping, entrusted to me. Itās a healing space. A powerful one.
I had so many more things to talk about, but session time has crept up on me as it usually does. So I guess itās just my fear of flying and love for reading, and ability to do both much more successfully than I have in the past.
