Tag: #creativerecovery

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Spring cleaning of the house, the heart, the soul….

I’m not doing so well with my pages this morning. The season has shifted and the feeling is almost immediate. Last night we randomly, with no planning whatsoever, began to pull out the lawn mower, and get some new yard tools. My yard looks like the Secret Garden before it’s magical transformation. It has been 6 years of neglect of having an owner whose last primary focus was it. The yard that time forgot. I’d be ashamed, but how can I rightly do so when I’ve opened a successful counseling practice, learned how to do billing, become a better parent, learned to manage Crohn’s Disease and all that comes with it, gotten a much better handle on my anxiety, and found a love that makes me a better person every single day.

So I guess now it’s the yard’s time for a little attention. To hopefully help me slow down as I learn to tend to it’s needs. To take the effort to do something that doesn’t yield an immediate gratification and to enjoy task for the sake of being tender and nurturing, without requirement from the task. It seems daunting at first this under-taking. How do I even attach this blade to this long handled saw? Am I qualified to prune trees? I’ll probably kill them. I’ll probably cut off a finger, and then I won’t be able to write. I’ve always had a black thumb. Honest. I used to tell people that if you truly cared about that plant to give it a different home. But perhaps over time I’ve become more able to attend and nurture and maybe I could be a gardener now. We can try on a new self anytime we want. Did you know that? I sure have and boy have I learned a lot along the way. It’s what I have learned the most from.

Could I be the environmentally conscious person with a compost pile and dirt under my finger nails? Ok I couldn’t do the dirt under my finger nails, that strikes fear into my highly sensitive heart. That’s why I can’t keep finger nails. I would obsess about the dirty nail until I had to take it off immediately with or without the tools to do so.

I would also like to try out being the person with an exercise routine. And maybe even one who runs a 5 k. Also could I be someone who has the edgy fun short hair cut without worrying that my weight gain would make it unflattering or someone won’t take me seriously in my career with the hair. Why do we give ourselves such little permission for the things we really want? Conditioned and trained with so much outside commentary about who we should be and what we should do. Lately I am feeling like rebelling against this in every way possible. I recognize the pain caused to self from shame and feeling not enough or too much in some way. I’m spending lots of time thinking about this.

Guess what person I am though? I realized this after my post and this is an edit actually to the original. I remembered how good it felt last night. We played and worked outside together. I was the house in the neighborhood that kids wanted to be at. They played four square in the court that someone who isn’t in our lives anymore, but loved us at an important time we needed it built. We have been loved and supported, so we can also give love and support and a space to others. This is how it looks. The more we receive the more we have to give. And I realize in this moment I’ve never been short on receiving. I just had a lot of expectations about where I was supposed to get things from, and what they were supposed to look like.

I am in love with my life. Truly, madly, and deeply. I complain and get cranky sometimes and my kids probably think I’m the strictest mother ever. But I am seeing us all becoming more compassionate of one another and conscientious people, and that’s always been important to me. And I have moments where everyone is laughing and playing and I’m surrounded by love and being love. Those moments are my gold.

I’m less in the mood to think and write as I am to DO this morning. To be present with people I love and to share the joy I’ve found in myself. The only thing nagging at me is all the supposed to’s of my Sunday expectations of self. Cleaning, shopping, and most importantly to my heart right now. Preparing myself for Martha Beck’s Light Writing Course. I am going to be a Light Writer! I am already one is the conclusion I’ve come to from listening to the initial materials on the psychology of light writing. Basically it’s how to access our higher selves, the compassionate less reactive ones. I am relieved to notice that this is my life’s work already. I just didn’t have the language for it she does. So I’ve found my place. That’s one of the best feelings.

Another new feeling of belonging. Belonging has been on my mind a lot lately. It’s been one of my biggest battles in life on so many different fields. I never feel like I belong even when I could. And now I’m trying to give myself fierce permission to belong to myself so I’ll never have to fear the sting of taking personally that I don’t belong somewhere for some reason outside of myself. Belonging, like love, is an inside job. It’s whether we feel worthy to belong, and in the face of much information towards the opposite it feels impossible.

I am a light writer and I am a being who who accesses her higher self a good portion of the time. And when I don’t I am committed to looking at my part in things and learning to be humble and take the lesson. I think this writing course will also be humbling for me, it will show my painful parts to me and I know I need to be up to the task. I admit I’m a little nervous.

So I will be here guys tending to my internal garden and the external one and writing about everything along the way. Thank you for supporting me. You are the kerosene, the candle, the electric current, and the sun to my shine. I’ve never been alone. I believed I was for so long, and that belief held me back. All my supports were just waiting for me to reach out and find them. For me to love myself enough to ask and to teach, those willing to learn how to love me.

💜

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They need us to rise…

Ask people what they need and how we can love them better!

I am having an inspired morning and want to share a couple of things. A realization I had just this morning is that we need to learn how to love one another beyond loving in just the ways we know how. What I knew about love for a long time left me not behaving very well. I didn’t create space or have room to let love grow. I had deep and crushing insecurities and at the drop of a hat (or more appropriately the pull of a trigger), they would explode like shrapnel tearing apart my relationships and then my life. I would have to rebuild again, and I did this under the weight of crushing shame. I had friends even stop hanging out with me, because I had a new partner, they didn’t like that change. Did they think I did? Did they think that my relationships didn’t work because I didn’t desperately want them to? We need to stop shaming others people. We need to learn how, and when, and why we do this so we can stop.

I had to learn my way out of this space and way of existing, and the cost of that learning has not been cheap. I’ve lived bathed in anxiety. I have a chronic illness now, whether you say it’s genetics or extreme stress most of my life has been exhausting. Lots caused by my thinking as much as my circumstances. This is why we need to be educated on these matters, and the time and encouragement to fully explore our own thoughts and minds without being called selfish, or crazy, or somehow wrong! Without being told how to live and love based on one perspective.

Parents tell their children how to live all the time, and don’t realize they are showing them by modeling, not with their words. We are sometimes accidentally angry with our children for not being who we want them to be, even when they may be being courageous. We can accidentally crush their tiny spirits with all of our fear of failure as parents, and we need to be aware of this.

It isn’t just natural knowing how to live we need to be taught, and these days we are taught by the extreme opposite of thinking about who we are and what we want of life and how we want to be loved, and if we are loving others well. These days our teachers are YouTube videos and scrolling Instagram, and my kids are left alone on those platforms as well, while I’m busy. Now I’ve given out some great recommendations to clients and friends about fantastic YouTube videos, it isn’t all bad. But when kids are just left to learn from whatever they come across with little guidance or presence because it has been replaced, then we are heading to a scary place.

Do you know that our children are scared to death right now? They are in my office all the time. All they hear about is that the sea is rising, and that you can be shot while in class, and that they won’t have any financial future. Where is the hope? We have to teach them how they can rise to any occasion, because it’s what humanity is famous for. Someone will rise and they will lead, and it can’t all be bad. Our children are stressed, and anxious, and depressed, and lonely. They need us to rise. THEY NEED US TO RISE.

This means we are the teachers of compassion, empathy, understanding, and hope. The teachers of how small changes can make a difference, rather than doing nothing because of overwhelm. This has been one of my biggest battles. As an HSP I feel so much I become crushed under the weight, leading to my main focus being how to comfort myself. I’ve had to learn my way out of this cycle. We need to make the change from bogged down hopeLESS to hopeFULL.

Our children watch every action we make and every word we say. So spend some time thinking what they are seeing you do, because ultimately that is the cycle they will repeat until they resolve their personal tasks. We can make that an easier or a more difficult process for them. The number one thing they want is to see you interested in who they are as a person, not who you wish they would be. We must see our children, and our lovers, and our friends and neighbors, and the stranger on the corner through generous eyes.

We must do this whether or not it is deserved in a moment. We must do this because of who we are, and not because of any inauthentic reason. Because a person who is believed in and encouraged is a thousand times more likely to be successful at becoming who they are.

This does not mean we allow ourselves to be treated badly by subjecting ourselves to poor treatment. That isn’t what I’m suggesting. Always exercise and be aware of your personal boundaries, that is loving of self. When you’re confident in your boundaries it becomes easier to love with your whole self and heart, that healing variety of love, because you’ll trust in your ability to know where your energy is productive and where it isn’t.

Our children need us people… WE MUST RISE. We must educate and love harder and with more of a depth to our understanding. So kids have permission to understand themselves and to grow. So kids have permission to expand, and we aren’t unintentionally asking them to shrink to fit our expectations.

Even good intentions must be examined, because many things we do are not conscious.

 

❤️❤️❤️

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The Calm after the Storm .. Clarity

Every time that I have a really intense bout of “feeling feelings” I come out as if I am staring over a totally still lake at sunrise. I can see straight to the bottom. It’s as if my most profound truths are completely revealed to me, and I rush to capture every second, because as quickly as I can see them all, life amps up and demands my attention and then they are clouded again. The lake has boats and people water skiing and playing, and living their lives, and watching those moments captures the primary part of my attention. So I try and soak up these moments of clarity. I feel sometimes like an entirely different breed of human. These days however it is much less lonely… people are beginning to see and understand me, because I am allowing myself to be seen. This is because I am living much less in fear, and much more growing into my confident capable self. It’s a great feeling.

I had the hardest of days yesterday, with the sweetest of endings. I was scared going in, but I faced my fears and didn’t avoid the situation (as tempting as that was), and I SHOWED UP. I showed up with my whole heart present and didn’t stay consumed in my pain, especially old pain. Even if it makes an appearance to show back up you just gotta let that shit move on. Please for the love of your lives, don’t hold onto your pain as if it does anything for you. It doesn’t protect you from it happening more or again. That is an illusion. Let pain go as quickly as you forget all you have to be grateful for. If only we could do that. The waters of my life have become so much more calm lately. I used to live from one wave of something to the next. Constantly drained. It took so much of me. It took so much of me from my kids, and I am just thawing out and realizing how my fears of myself kept me from having the relationships I want with them. I held myself back. I felt unworthy I think of gifts so special and fragile. But we human beings are anything but fragile. We are tough as nails, but so few know that. Because something happening to someone we love is unthinkable. It still is for me. I have never truly been touched by a tragedy of such a nature, and I cannot imagine how it might change my life if I were. I am in awe of the strength of those that have.

Anyway I had a couple of epiphanies that I want to capture in this blog. My person and I are just at the point where I am coming to family events and getting to know her people better. I’ve done this dance so many times, and lost so many families after the difficult work of learning one another and becoming close. This is a loaded area for me. Having 0 family for my partner to get to know besides my children makes me feel on a totally different playing field, and also increases my longing to belong to the pack. Loving my kids and I has historically ended up being a bridge gap in terms of acceptance. In the past in my relationships, partner’s parents who were struggling with their children being gay, would meet my kids and I, and love us so much that it seemed to change their hearts. And I of course loved to be that piece of healing. As it turns out, I think that was my primary purpose in their lives, rather than it being that the person and I would share a lifetime. I have often had this role in a person’s life confused. When I finally became a helper as a career, I could stop confusing my romantic love life with helping others grow (and I recognize I grew too, you can’t help someone else without helping yourself). So now I’ve chosen a partner for me for the right reasons for me, and we help one another grow naturally by loving each other so well. It has a balance.

So the tricky aspect here is that her father is having a very difficult time with a conflict in his religious beliefs and our love. I’ve never had this experience before (surprisingly), where I may not be accepted because of how I am made. It is harder than I thought. It triggers deep places of rejection sensitivity, unworthiness, and a lack of belonging. It takes me back to an old place, one I worked very hard to leave. So as I am trying to navigate those waters and know how and when to be bold with my truths (which is how I am my most happy), and when to be patient and calm and wait. How to gently educate and to be understanding in the face of great pain. I can’t think of much that is more painful than having your existence invalidated. A big fear here is me being any kind of wedge between my person and her family. It is my life’s purpose to bring families closer, not to create conflict. I know that is way too much responsibility for me to bear alone. I know that, but the feelings cannot always be helped. Only processed through and then can make a choice about where to “land”.

So add to this equation that it is my natural thing to do to put any family that is in tact on a pedestal and me as the outsider who doesn’t belong. This is me attempting as we all do to continue my family dynamic because it is where I am most comfortable, whether it is healthy or not. It is what I know. So this is a tricky combination.

The epiphany is that I came out of it last night keeping a lesson that I often share with my clients as they build their self-esteem. Often times I have young women/men, who have not found their way, come to me in the face of accepting relationships that do not value them, but they have not yet learned their own value. I often have women/men coming in wanting to be accepted and when they go into a situation they come at it from a place of “will they want me, will they choose me, will I be enough x, y, or z?” What I tell these women/men is, have you thought about if YOU want this person, have you considered the aspects of who they are and if that is a good fit for YOU, will they be enough to hold your heart with great respect and dignity. To turn the tables and if you are looking at something from one angle, be sure to consider the other one. So I realized last night that I am not just on audition here to see if I will be accepted into the pack. I also need to consider if I want to belong there, if it will be healthy for me or not. This is a balance I haven’t ever had before, folks. A learning and a growth. There is a confidence I found in myself through this experience yesterday. I was raw and flayed open, but I didn’t keep a story about my worth based on where I came from and what I didn’t receive.

We accept the love we think we deserve. I am getting so much better at this, but it’s still a work in progress.

These epiphanies/realizations/clarities… they opened me up to truths about my relationship with my kids that I am sitting in this morning. My trouble with worthiness I realize has kept me at a certain distance from my own children. It is an emotional distance, not a physical proximity, and I know it is one they can feel, but how could they understand it if I didn’t…. I am often in my head trying to fix these sufferings so I can be worthy of a love like theirs. It is given so freely and I didn’t understand that kind of love. The only kind of love I understand is the kind that felt like it must be earned, and even then the supply seemed so sparse. So I’ve been working hard on myself to be good enough to be their mother….. and I recognize the error in this. The hard work makes me tired and less available to their open and warm hearts. I needed to create an open an warm heart so it could meet up with theirs. This means I have needed to bypass a million defense mechanisms that life helped me put into place so I could get to the next phase. The bomb squad has been with me the past year and I think that we are all clear. And can stop living like the bottom will drop out, and that I won’t love my kids like they deserve. I will and I do, mine just looks a little different and a little more complicated than most. But if anyone will find a way to communicate through this to understanding… I will.

These realizations and what will follow them are the greatest gift I could ever receive this year. Capability being the key word of some of my most profound discoveries. I am capable of being a good mother, partner and, hopefully this next year, author. All of my arguments to my own greatness are slipping away and it is the best feeling…

 

 

 

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My first Counselor….

One post unlocks more….. or so it seems.

My first mental health counselor was Dr. Bob Murray. I saw him in New London at The Coast Guard Academy. This is who the military sent me to. It was about 45 min from my home in Milford Connecticut at the time.

I arrived at counseling because I was stuck. Because I thought having a husband and three beautiful children, a good man who loved me… was supposed to be the key to happiness. I thought this because my mother was never happy and she always focused on the fact that if she had a man who stuck around and who was good she could have been. At least that is what I heard. So I took that and ran with it. I was eager to watch what was around me and to learn. I am a spongey human being who easily fits in, takes on, and becomes what is around her. That is my default mode because it pleases others and receives so much positive feedback which I was starving for. Having been raised by grandparents who were very displeased at the fact their daughter got pregnant by an older man out of wedlock at the age of 19.

My mother was not capable of raising a child. My mother was not capable of caring for herself even. She enjoyed the romantic aspects of being a mother, but seemed to be unable to stay with the difficulties. Now that I am later on in years I understand this as her literally not having the capacity. The first half of my life I experienced a range of emotions around this. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t choose ME, choose to be my mother. Confusion is probably the most appropriate word here, and that confusion resulted in a lot of discomfort for me. But as anyone who is determined to “change their stars” I was unwilling to give in to that. I got strong, or perhaps I was born strong, or maybe both? I suppose this is the reason I am so interested in how much of things is how we are wired, and how much is what we are subject to. I’ve been considering and wondering about nature and nurture for as long as I can remember.

My grandparents stepped in and took over care of me (after court involvement and a try with being with Mom when I was young). They have both passed away now. Grandma (Mom) died of Lou Gherig’s Disease in 2006 at the age of 79. Grandpa (Dad) died of duodenal cancer in 2013 at the age of 89, or of missing grandma as I like to think. One of those married couples that had so completely fused that one can’t be without the other for long. The emptiness just kills them after separation. He hung in there for my younger brother I believe. To try his best to get him to more self-sufficient adulthood before giving in.

What I remember most about me and being a child was that I was primarily received as being a pain in the ass. I was loud, outspoken, semi-aggressive, very physical and touchy, exhibited many attention seeking behaviors (not shockingly), a hypochondriac long before I knew what that was. I was a “chatter box”. My aunt and her boyfriend would try in the car to get me to play a game they referred to as “Monks and the Vow of Silence”, in this game I was to be quiet until a gong rang. They probably got a couple of rounds of this in of me really wanting to succeed and win before I was onto them. I was FULL of life in a situation where my life had not been wanted there, at that time, in that way. That is an unfortunate circumstance for all involved. I frequently recall my grandparents saying out loud they didn’t understand why I always had to be on the go or wanting to be doing something, that when they were young they played with paper dolls and were told they were “meant to be seen, and not heard.” I was often told “children are meant to be seen and not heard”. Being highly sensitive what I never knew was how completely and entirely I internalized every single one of these messages. I was wrong, bad, flawed… even in these subtle ways, this then greatly compounded by my behaviors increasing as I reacted to the stress in my direct environment. This also compounded by my being different than most of my peers. I was a tomboy, wanted to dress like a boy, and ultimately be like one. My theory on this is that represented a strength and stability so opposite to me. I also think at that young age without realizing it I knew I would have more power as a boy and would be treated different. They seemed to be somehow more legitimate and I wanted that.

I wanted to feel valued, and like I belonged somewhere. Unfortunately consistenly the message was different. There was a lot of chaos around me, and it slipped inside too. It slipped inside so much that I would find later in life I would need to continue to create it so I could feel comfortable enough to function. It is what I knew.

A confused, sad, scared, lost little girl who wanted to belong to one of those families who planned for you and got excited about new life. Not whose legacy was “their mother was a slut”, and we are now burdened with the care of a child we didn’t ask for. We were going to travel in our retirement. The words always rang in my  mind. I always knew what was going on. I couldn’t be blissfully ignorant about it, and sometimes I feel like I wish I could have been.

There is so much more to unravel that happend prior to me getting to counseling. I have no model for how to unravel this so I’ll just have to say what  comes when it comes for now, until a better system develops. I will summarize for now to: a very unstable beginning led to me being a tiny adult and thinking at the tender age of 18 that my priority was to find a good man and get the heck out of dodge. And that’s what I did. I married a good and lovely man who was in no way shape or form a good fit for a life long partner for me. And the fact I didn’t already know that, couldn’t have seen it, then gave me great conflict because as you may have guessed it breaking my promise to myself and the world that I would immediately at age 18 create a better family than the one I had been given was unthinkable.

Ending up in a counselor’s office would be the thing that I didn’t know would save my life. It began with validation. That was step 1, but then there were so many more to go….. I had so many pre-conceived notions about what Counseling was. I was struggling with my sexuality at the time, but at the very beginning I was looking for more palatable reasons that could be, like perhaps sexual abuse (that would have been preferable than being gay, you see that could be managed and I could have kept my dream of staying married to one person and having the “perfect” family)… but if you thought I was gonna tell a heterosexual middle-aged man who worked on the base of my husband’s profession that… you would be wrong. I had decided I would tell him about my family life and do that work and it would end there. As I unfolded tales of my beginnings the thing that sticks out the most that he said to me was “he didn’t know how I had made it here to this point”. Those words seemed so foreign to me. What do you mean I’m fine? What is he even talking about? My defenses were grand at that time. My being strong and likeable on the exterior protected me, and it held me back. Week after week he continued to ask how I had come so far? And I continued to think is this guy nuts? Come so far? Don’t you realize I’m way behind? Don’t you know I’ve found myself in Connecticut amongst only people on their way to dazzling careers (and most already there at that age)…. I was an alien at that point.

I would write him …. my Counselor… I would write him agonizing pain filled e-mails full of angst and confusion. In the position I am in now I wonder how much worry that caused him thinking if he was doing the right thing to allow the letters, or if I was ok or not, safe I suppose is the more operate term here. I often wondered if it was fair of me to use his time in that way. But I felt like I didn’t have a choice. I had all of these thoughts and feelings and they needed to go somewhere. I write more because I need to write, ever than I just wanted to. It is only now I am realizing the full breadth of how important and intricately connected to my healing this gift is. And now in this almost 37th year of my life. I need to find a way to share this journey even further so others can benefit from it, the way I have benefited from those who have shared before me. My life has been saved many times over by Counselors and Authors, and they lit a spark and modeled a template for healthy love, that I fiercely continued to study and pursue. So much so that I am making it my life’s work. No one really gave me permission to do this, and that’s why it has taken so long. I am giving myself permission now. Flaying myself raw for the world in hopes that perhaps it can turn into something with the right parts humor, polish, or of whatever it is meant to be… to then be delivered to those lives whom it most needs to touch. I want that more than anything.

My Authors along the way include Paulo Coelho (The Alchemist, The Pilgrimage, Veronika Decides to Die, The Valkryies, and so many more), then there was Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love and Joan Anderson’s A Year by The Sea. These came at at time when I had lost so much hope in love, when I needed strength to be on my own. Now there is Brene Brown,  Pema Chodron, Cheryl Strayed, Glennon Doyle-Wambach, Anne Lamott, Anne Patchett, …. I could go on forever. These are the ranks of the people I want to fit in with. I want to be one of these. Someone who guides and speaks openly their truth and who shares wisdom with others. With others who respect and can realize the price tag this wisdom came with.

I think now more than ever this will be a book, or become one. Because of what I learned just today, and over these past weeks about blogging and writing. Once I begin more just flows, when I turn away from it, it shuts off almost like a faucet. These probably won’t continue to be small essay’s. The book will probably unravel from this. The book that has haunted me… and taunted me…. just out of grasp (only because I believed that was so).

Lastly the most important thing (because I just apparently have to choose a place to end because I would write feverishly all day I think). Is I want to tell you guys why this field means so much to me. This man… this first  Counselor of mine…. I didn’t talk to him for years and years, and then literally in true Christina fashion, impulsively I contacted him a few days before graduating from my Master’s Degree…. and I asked him if he would come. I invited him. He lives far away I believe, over an hour at least. It was a 7 pm  December graduation. It was December 14, 2014 to be exact. This man who hadn’t heard from me in years came to my graduation. He is the first person who ever truly validated and helped me understand my painful parts, and he is the only person who knew a young me in that way who came to my graduation. I had the closest thing I could ever get to a real parent invested in me there. I also had my supervisor Dr. James Dipisa who I am eternally grateful to and his wife, my children and my partner at that time Kat. These are all people who have held a deeply meaningful place in my journey. For me it hasn’t always been the same people, in fact my core people have changed quite often, and some have been throughout. I always thought so much more of what I didn’t have and how my life should be or could be, and now I realize I missed out on so much joy seeing life in that way. There isn’t one right way to live a life. Our stories are meant to be unique and to stand out from the crowd and to be shared.

Thank you for reading another piece……

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A story of in-laws: from several lifetimes ago.

*today I oh so randomly decided to dedicate my morning pages to writing a letter important in my healing.*

Writing true words from my heart is one of my greatest joys. Today I read one essay from Glennon Doyle-Wambach actually. I’ve been saying it wrong. Outdated.

I read a few pages of hers on in-laws, and her raw account of the mistakes she made in this department. And of course as it does it made me travel back in time to my own life when I had in-laws, and all the scar tissue that now lies between us. There is a river of pain that separates us. Sadly I believe this is all in the name of my children, for their best interest. I wish we all knew more about what is really the best interest of a child. We think we do but so often we get it wrong.

Originally I was going to transcribe this letter but I think I’ll make my readers suffer through my doctor-esque long hand because it’s more authentic. It’s a real piece of a real life lived in earnest.

Before I share I want to walk through just a couple of memories that are some of the more vivid. My MIL was so good to me. She watched my kids and let me take baths in their large tub with this ginger bubble bath from Avon. It was her favorite and her husband my FIL bought out the rest of it when they discontinued it. I used to have a glass of wine, a dark blue Lindt truffle and a bubble bath to drown out the weariness of being a new parent. She helped me find these things. I remember once she said to me “you’re so confident as a parent, I was never like that in the beginning.” She also told me tales of how micro-managed she was by her own MIL. I think it was important to her to take a different approach. I am grateful for that grace she extended to me. When I came out I know it was deeply painful for the family. At that time I couldn’t shoulder any of that or even be gracious about it, because my own journey was so heavy. We all did our best I think. We have had some run ins over the years where less grace than I wished for was present, on both sides. I hope as time moves on we maintain the grace that she taught me by example. Who knew that beneath her grace I think welled a lot of pain, and it has a profound effect. May we all find healing in our hearts. Life is very hard sometimes. 💜💜

My Sanctuary
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Restless with no rhyme or reason

*listening to Joshua Radin Radio on Pandora; His song “Only You” *

I am restless today. Very very restless. This can easily be confused with anxiety, the sensations are very similar, and misunderstood this could easily feel like not a good thing. However, today I am entertaining the idea that this restlessness could actually be excitement. I’m thinking that it must be because I have a lot to be excited about recently. One of the things is a secret, so you’ll just have to stay tuned and be curious. I am like a locked vault. *yeah right*. LOL. The idea that excitement without anxiety could actually have a place in my world is a little mind blowing currently.

What is my life going to be like without that constant companion of “feeling like the other shoe is always going to drop, or feeling like the rug will be pulled out from under me”. I am slowly coming to…. to the realization that I don’t feel that way anymore. It feels like being re-born. I say this because this sensation can only be described as so new that it is foreign and so foreign that it feels as if my body is trying to reject it.

I am happy, and safe, and confident. And how do a few words on a page make the reader’s heart squeeze the way mine is right now, and the tears begin to release. I need to tell my story, because it is starting to burst forth from my seams, to leak out into everything, and to reduce me to a puddle of emotion on nearly a constant basis. My gratitude is endless. My nerve endings are all alive. The sense of hope I always maintained was not without merit. This is real. This is real.

I’m physically restless, tapping my foot, moving around a lot, not able to sit still. I bit my cuticles a bit too (gross habit). All of my sensory systems feel sharpened. All of my emotional systems too.

I somehow made it through 2 pages of Morning writing, even with this distractibility. I become consumed with Facebook and a drama on there that later I would be hard on myself upon realizing it was a time suck, and generally left me feeling less grounded and pleasant than is my choice. Change begins with noticing. You must notice first, then you must take action. If you do those 2 things with anything that is important enough you can make the changes you desire. But you’ll have to be brave! 

Speaking of brave… I began my drive to work listening to …

Life Changing Book by Ms. Brave Herself. I want to be like her when I grow up!!

One gem so far is her describing how she has posted up in her office Oprah’s words: “Do not think you can be brave with your work and your life and never disappoint anyone, it doesn’t work that way.” One of my biggest misunderstandings in life was feeling disappointed in myself so often for everything, simply because I am sensitive and didn’t understand what that meant or why. The only template I had for it was one of shame and deep misunderstanding. What if most of us are only a few layers away from uncovering this type of treasure? I think that is true. And I am finding proof it is true in the lives of those I am able to touch now. My greatest privilege in this life is to be a counselor and walk with others on this journey. I walked alone for so long, and in so much more pain than I ever had to. If I knew then….. but scratch that because I KNOW NOW, and it is meant to be this way.

You see even this much writing, in a space that is rapidly becoming a second home to my heart… the restlessness has calmed. I have written my way through it. Just as I have written my way through most of my many unanswered questions and a heaping load of trauma and pain. My greatest hope is to write a story that others can access and feel the way I did this morning listening to Brene speak her truth.

It wasn’t really bravery that I’ve had a problem with. I developed that being a problem because I believed others with their should’s and should not’s. I watched other people in shame and thought I’d rather belong to the herd than to be cold out here alone. I’ve changed myself so many times to try and belong somewhere and to something. I didn’t realize at that time that the price would be my soul, and then on top when it turned out to not fit for me I blamed myself. So much pain. I’ve suffered immensely, mostly at my own hand. At the hand of my rapidly over-thinking mind. My mind is capable of being a great paradise or a terrible prison. I have known both, but I didn’t know that I had a choice, and now I do.

Thanks to feeding my mind with the brave and the many stories of people who came before me, my life has become a whole different kind of place. Now… I just want to share that journey with anyone who wants to listen. My heart is so open and raw lately. It is just out in the air beating for everyone to see, and the vulnerability of it all is often overwhelming. I wouldn’t change a thing.

As I listened to Brene this am and her story of belonging and her struggle I just could not stop crying. It touched me so deeply. And having those experiences help me unlock how to touch other’s lives in such a way. ….

Stay tuned …. I am on the brink of something special here.. .every second it is becoming…. just like how I “woke up” in this career where I belong that feeds my soul every day.

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Simple Pleasures and Adult Responsibilities

*it is injection day. By the light of day I rarely talk about my disease, but as part of doing this blog I want to make a conscious effort to not omit less palatable aspects of my life. Even if it does feel better to live in denial on this one.

My tough guy girlfriend is yelling at our border collie mix Henri (Etta) as she attempts to “protect us” from the mailtruck. Sigh. She has come into this home after it has been fully formed, and probably questions her sanity as she attempts to undo bad habits in my dogs that have been long standing. She is also having serious ADHD while trying to complete her Morning Pages, I can relate. I already completed mine. Overachiever say what 😉 We run on very different schedules she and I. She is just waking up fully around the afternoon (when we have days off together), and I wake up with the first sign of dawn (usually because a teenager has missed his bus), but also because to me each morning is a new day.

I have been born with this enthusiasm that I don’t even understand. Often it has made me feel odd or different, awkward even. This brings me to a series of questions that have always been a big part of my thinking, the whole nature versus nurture debate. Was I made this way, or have I just cultivated it so much that it has become a part of me? I can always remember waking up and my mind abuzz, and my spirit ready for a new adventure. For me there is always new people to meet or something new and exciting to experience. Lately I almost feel some sense of guilt that I am so naturally this way, and for others it is so different. So even more the wondering if this is just in my wiring or if needing to learn this was a function of my childhood. I definitely would have needed to find things to be enthusiastic about. I think I manufactured my own world in my mind, and all the while never felt I had a creative bone in my body. Go figure.

I almost become excited to go to sleep at night so I can get it over with so it’s the next morning and I can partake in my beloved ritual of my morning cup of coffee in a favorite mug and writing/reading. I spend a great deal of my time in reflection and thinking, probably 90 percent of it. In this later half of my life I am learning to spend some of it on play. My partner helps me with this. Yesterday we went to Target for a pen. I have always had a thing about pens. Certain inks that glide as if the pen isn’t even touching the paper. I am old-fashioned and love touching pen to paper, it breathes air back into a soul that has been sucked out by modern technology. Our Target adventure also yielded a 40 + set of fine tipped colored markers, a sketch pad, some sick supplies for one of my 13 year old twin girls who had a cold (soup, the nasty kind, and gatorade), stickers (for morning pages), … essentially things that spark and nurture creativity. Courtney and I are spending some time as a couple working paralell in this journey.

Last night while randomly watching the movie Sing, which is adorable by the way, we took cute pictures on the couch with Sig. One of them came out perfect with all of our tongues out. Feeling like I must post it now… yes I must….

Simple Pleasures
Silly Pleasures

I am survived by the simplest of pleasures that keep my soul warm on a cold day. Cups of coffee and journals, sketch pads and novels, hooded sweatshirts and walks next to her, a shared glance and the tender hand hold. There are so many to list. My life has unfolded before my imagination with so many moments of bliss I never anticipated. I feel grateful for every second.

The adult responsibilities portion of this post is everything in between these moments. Currently it is the fact that we need to replace the furnace in the house. Found out yesterday. This is in the ballpark of $6500-10,000 apparently, it is an immediate necessity. Finding this out yesterday made me think of the movie UP. I now want to watch it. I think of how they planned on travelling together and made a jar to save and then how every little thing came up. In the past this would have made me unbelievably stressed. Especially as it seems so unfair that Courtney moves in and then needs to share in this expense (or will because she is that kind of partner). My mind says that I duped her or she has done the opposite of winning the lottery. She won the lottery in love I suppose and my romantic side thinks great, and my practical mind argues. What is a whole house full of possessions with no one to share it with? Right?

So back to rectifying student loans and figuring out the ultimate fate of that payment, getting estimates and making hard decisions about new AC/FURNACE units, running errands, etc. But first I am going to make an egg salad sandwich while listening to Ani and hopefully get a nice kiss in the kitchen. The simple pleasures to me, will always outweigh the crushing aspects of life…

My heart is full….