Tag: #lightwriter

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Sensitive is The New Strong, Dying to be Me.

“And you’ve come from a good place with a happy family, the only bad thing you’ve ever done was to see the good in me. Find someone who plants flowers in the darkest parts of you.”ZB

As I sit here this morning, in my favorite window of me time in the morning. I am reveling in the notion that if you travel deeply, you keep returning to the same things again and again.

For example this morning I’m reading Anita Mooriani’s Sensitive is the new strong. It was around 2013, while working amidst the produce at Trader Joe’s in the wee hours of the morning I was listening to Dying to Be Me. It was with the first generation of Apple headphones and the iPhone with the button in the center, or earlier if I recall.

I resonated deeply with that book, though it was very hard to believe at the time, and my mind still tends towards skepticism, even as I am a believer.

I also listened to Paulo Coehlo books then, the Valkries, the Pilgrimage, etc.

A line: “you can’t unknow what you know” stands out to me, about any experience we have really.

I sit and think why didn’t I stand up for myself in so many ways, for so many things?!

When someone is actually telling you the truth to you, without being direct. I think of all I would have said. But I don’t think long on it now because there’s life to be lived and joy to be had, and of course because this is me, work to be done.

So I’m revisiting my birthright of sensitivity and the many resources needed to keep me in a good place with it. Very helpful. Also the highly sensitive person in love, by Dr Elaine Aron.

My traumatized mind grasping always to control its external environment, when the internal is so disorganized. Now I do the opposite.

I am building a home inside myself. A palace really.

Yesterday was the culmination of watching This is Us. It’s my new favorite written show. So much in there that makes you think, triggers and epiphanies alike. Of course because it’s tv if you let it, it could make you feel terrible about your life. All those warm and wise conversations about the important things between parents and children. I’m not naive to the knowledge without a written script many of us didn’t get that, or dole it out.

But it’s never too late to start.

Knowing who you want to be is as necessary as knowing who you are. I enjoy the journey of both. I am enjoying them.

I’m a UConn Husky Mom now! That’s exciting! I move a child into college for time number two in August. One more birdy out of the nest, and another migrating home for a few months before her next venture.

I will blink and the kids will have their own nests and flock home less, but still hopefully often. I have a wide open array of possibilities in life, still, always. I’m hopeful to rise to that occasion, even if that means allowing myself to sit and read a novel in an afternoon, without feeling I’ve missed a thing.

I don’t need to be in a hurry to capture everything. I just took a deep satisfying breath.

My window of time with the morning is closing soon. Everyone is buzzing about the eclipse. It’ll be time to walk the dogs, give Henri her medicine, carry her up and down the stairs, feed them. Take a walk and a shower. The shower is such a great part. All the thoughts gently cascading, all the recharge from the water….

And then to enter the day.

Taking twin A for blood work for her first time. She’s nervous. I know what that feels like, and usually I’m the last to say you’ll be fine, and to be reassuring. I’m more likely to be awkward and say something scary. My mind can be a delightful playground of deeply imprinted survival mechanics.

I’m just trying to take off the suit.

This is an homage to a dear friend. His is much cuter than mine of course. Mine is probably more like a Spartan, he the Pink Ranger.

Another day trying to connect with the humans and not be too sensitive to saying the wrong thing, as I often do in my real life, contrasted by often having exactly what someone needs in my professional one.

As I heal and create new comfort zones outside the walls of my original ones. As I build. I look forward to bridging those gaps. Filling the bullet holes inside myself with new skin, bone, flesh, and blood.

Less a project and more, perfection from birth that I wasn’t able to see.

With new mirrors and lenses I invite the day.

Hello world give me what you have for me, and I vow to show up with integrity, honor, and to be of service.

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My empathy is ironic don’t you think…..

“I am out with lanterns looking for myself”

I was called to my water to write this morning. I just got waxed, ow. Sometimes I feel half my life is concerned with hair removal. Did you chuckle ? I did. But for real it’s not even about how I look, it’s a sensory thing.

I am finally accepting my high sensitivity and empath ness and trying to work with it rather than deny, minimize, outright reject, or attempt to reverse the adaptation that’s about being adaptable. Ironic isn’t it.

A barrier to this was always worrying about being grandiose or the way some people use being an empath in toxic ways. As always if you’re worried about it it’s probably not something to worry about.

So can I finally accept my birthright and my gift and use it to help me achieve a better quality of connection to myself and the universe.

That’s a resounding yes !

Speaking of ironic Alanis and the episode of we can do hard things on high sensitivity! Boom. It is ironic oh yes I really do think.

Time seems my most elusive currency lately. How lucky am I that my life is one where I want more time to do and experience the things I love.

How lucky am I that I’m working at better understanding myself, and having a healthier relationship with me.

It turns out I’ve been looking for her in everything, and everyone, and everywhere she’s not.

Inside of me.

So that’s what I’m spending the most of my valuable currency on.

Writing my poem, my story, my lyrics, my melody, my script and on and on.

I have so many things to write about, but sometimes once I open the post I just relax so much nothing intelligible comes. It’s when I don’t have the pressure of the page that my thoughts float gently to the surface of my consciousness and tickle my fancy.

My fantasy

Lately I’ve been loving the lyrics of Zach Bryan. My girls led me to him. Some of them are just well wow. Your head in my neck is weightless.

This morning I’m re reading The Highly Sensitive Person I love and it’s already blowing my mind, in showing my experience to me with a lens that helps me cope.

Deep and profound love is often the kind that doesn’t last, and then there’s the kind that does that is also those things.

I was trying to crack the code on love using logic. Now that’s ironic.

Now I’m using all of it, and most often working to get the story straight, keep it simple and direct, and develop a consistently healthy relationship with myself.

The work is delicious, no longer a burden. I am blessed.

The work takes the charge out of the pain, rather than rivers of it threatening to flood at anytime. I’m building a dam. Speaking of that I’m often thinking lately of slowly doing more DIY things. Like fix the drywall in my basement. I’m not sure yet whether that’s an idea and my schedule and sensory stuff means it’s not really conducive. Stay tuned on that one.

I’m watching this is us, and oh my god the triggers and the insight and bliss. Kevin’s twins being born and just watching the trials of these three’s lives. The nuance and the variety of topics covered in this way.

I’m enjoying it immensely….. not have I enjoyed a timing of a show to show me some things since Six Feet Under. This one is a profound love.

I’m reading Dune which is so odd for me. It is and it isn’t. What I appreciate is being attuned to intuition and that that is real.

I want my dreams back, and to be connected. I am figuring it out. Softening, thawing, warming, while also reinforcing my non-negotiables and boundaries.

It’s absolutely pouring.

The waves are crashing around the cement dock that I’ve walked to the edge of so many times and felt like I was standing in the middle of the ocean. Like I could walk on water. Don’t worry no delusions of grandeur here.

Anyway I have more to say later probably or tomorrow. I’m needing woods and water and empty hours.

All my love,

C

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Have I Really Gone my Whole Life Without Knowing How to Breathe….

Just breathe they said ….

I had so much pain I never dealt with. I’m only just coming to terms with how compartmentalized I was and the whys and the how’s of it.

I went swimming yesterday. Floundering awkward. More tuned to everyone else at first hyper vigilant non breathing. As it turns out rhythm and breathing is essential to swimming and well every other aspect of life.

I used to experience such shame for being so out of sync and step with those that were given acceptance and love.

I could feel it radiating through me as if I myself were a neon (because I was born in the 80’s it’s neon lol) beacon of different.

I am trying to wear that proudly now and to teach as I go. To advocate for myself and others to not be silent or more accepting. To not cut off parts of our stories or ourselves in favor of making other people more comfortable. I won’t.

In fact I am doing the opposite I’m excavating my story and working at believing it myself, getting it down, getting it out, writing it.

This is not easy. I have a thousand suitcases (white oleander reference), and it’s so overwhelming to even try. It makes me short of breath to even try.

So that’s where I am. I won’t be ashamed or change trajectory for anything. This is me.

I’m doing all body therapies currently and stretching only to my edge moderately until the muscle gives a little. Gentle yoga. Regular kills me still. Being in the water. Taking too much in, feeling headachy from being stiff and awkward and scared.

Just breathing …. Acknowledging…. Being with….

I took this season of writing immersion off to better balance some other things that need attending to and I’m scared shitless to lose the flow I found. But I often share in sessions we can’t lose “the work” it’s integrated and part of us. Accessible anytime, think Dorothy and her Ruby slippers.

I am reading It’s Not You by Dr. Ramani, I read it in like a day. That’s what happens when material makes you feel seen, you know it’s for you. I am reading Fight Right, which helps me hone my relational skills. I am reading Lessons in Chemistry. I am reading the list goes on!

I am watching This is Us. I’m shocked I missed the bus on this emotion porn, but also grateful because any sooner and I think it would have just made me feel worse about myself.

To speak to that I read something in Dr Ramani book, about permanent grief. Is that what I’ve been in?! That would make sense why I didn’t even know or couldn’t even feel other ones at times.

I became a doing. There was no being. And what has brought this so boldly into my attention is how my children felt in relation to me. As if their only value is when they are doing. Oh the heartbreak and regret.

So I’m working at becoming an open hearted and loving human being literally one minute at a time. The guards are many and they are intense. I have body guards upon body guards that I never asked for. Constantly telling me what I can and cannot do.

So much control. Lose control. No control. All control. Organize around others. Perform.

No breathing. No living.

So now I’m figuring out what this living thing is all about. Making friends with my emotions and my body. Introducing myself to them. We are pioneering uncharted waters here. So I guess it’s way finding then.

That makes sense !

Anyway that’s it for now but there may be more posts as I spend time with me this weekend.

First it’s a long walk for the dog and then gentle yoga and then massage.

First we learn to breathe, then we try to live.

Love,

C

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Evermore this Love Affair with Me. Getting to Know her.

❤️💜 11:11 published

I’m having a mad love affair with the song evermore this morning. I want to touch the keys of my piano and tune my ear to the sounds. The ones that make people feel. Rhythm that can’t be ignored. A siren call. Satellite call.

So many empty hours before me wanting, needing.

No desperation,

only stillness.

I’m learning a course in miracles, lesson 8 this am is about how the egoic mind clings to the past and creates it to replay over into your present unless you become aware of this.

The only true thought is that the past is no longer present: makes room for new creation.

New lessons,

rather than loops of old ones,

chasing your tail.

I’m getting used to these orthotics. Right now arch support feels like arch assault. But I think ultimately the whole posture is positively impacted by the right nurturing. Isn’t that about right for a metaphor for life.

I saw killer of the flower moon yesterday. The new Scorsese film. Really eye opening. So much to unpack there about manipulation, privilege, and a whole variety of things.

I enjoy seeing movies in the theater. What I’m really finding important about this now is not multi tasking. Just being present and absorbed into someone’s creation. So many pieces went into it.

How good it feels to be with the present moment. And there are many ways that’s hard also. The losses creep up and haunt.

While what might have been no longer consumes me, it’s sometimes a bitter pill.

This is where faith is really important. And letting go of control.

Allowing

That’s my current mission.

Tonight is family time at the Figg cooking school.

A friend is visiting. I’ve known him since way back, he visits every year, and every year it’s a motivator to plan things together. Kinda sounds like family right ?! That elusive promised thing, that was so missing for so long.

But look at me I make one wherever I go. I create family easily, and that requires an open heart. Before it was at times a desperate act without enough thought to not also create harm. I’m sorry.

No

I’m really sorry.

Sorry doesn’t cover it. For irresponsible actions on my part that caused pain. And I’m also aware if we are going to risk anything in this lifetime hurt will happen. I will not use that as a justification, but I will use the understanding to allow healing.

That’s where I am right now.

I walk, I think, I read, I love, I understand…..

Funny Miley Cyrus is now singing I miss me more. May I everyone find that really important aspect of love.

In balance with one’s own desires and destiny if you will. If you won’t that’s ok too. My beliefs are solid and also open to modification as I understand more.

Two miles, that’s good for now. I have admin to enjoy doing, and some chores.

I love being in my office. It’s my own home within my home. Sacredness is in there. People come there to heal, to feel their hurts, and I do too. Beautiful love and life.

Tomorrow I write. I can’t wait. I’m waiting breathlessly for that ability to be fully me, to fully express everything anything I want.

Writing is safe.

It’s my constant loved one.

Consistency is so nice these days, but also not rigid or caged within it. Consistent forward movement come what may.

Maybe I will …….

All my love,

C

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Stephen King October’s and Writer’s Who Keep Getting Back up and Trying…..

Normalizing this 💜💜💜❤️❤️❤️

I realize it’s been too long since I’ve written in here. Beginning again requires no grand gesture, except to splay my words upon the page.

Life is so different now than it’s ever been for me.

The kitchen window is open. I can hear the cars splashing through the wet pavement on High st. There’s a bathroom window open, and it’s making a door creak slightly every so often.

I’m reading Stephen King’s Needful Things. Marveling at how he takes a concept and a belief of his, sets it to quirky characters. Creates a setting based on a place he loves, and takes his shot. His art. How small town washed up people become prone to obsession over items that bring them nostalgia or comfort. What they are willing to do to anyone, to be able to feel better.

In the movie, a young Ed Harris plays Alan Pangborn, the town sheriff. The book is better of course.

I marvel at how I can read a chilling description of two women killing each other and not be kept up at night. Perhaps my ability to find the art in this fiction stays my traumatized mind from its post. I typical do not like to fill it with horror. I have enough reels of my own, should I want a chill during spooky season.

I’m mostly focused on being present. And realizing how much I wasn’t. How unwell and dissociated I had been a lot of my life, without really being aware of it. That has been a slow burn. Burning off shame. Shedding self-consciousness ,and seeing what lies under all of that.

That’s where I am.

It’s a process that requires time and cultivating, and I’m committed.

I’m still figuring out balance with that regard.

Since I’m forty I moved wrong the other day. I am now on steroids and doing physical therapy two times weekly. Lol. So that’s happening. I used to freak at the smallest setback physically. So now I just allow life to pause me when needed.

I began working with a new client last night. They work in a profession I’m intrigued with. The person was very solid and grounded, and my energy matched suit during the session. The person is in their 60’s so that makes sense. Of course that’s not the only factor. But I really enjoyed holding space for their story, and having the privilege of them entrusting their heart and pain to me upon our first meeting.

People’s beautiful resilience and heart captivate me in such a way. I am starting to be able to believe I could be captivating too.

Without being constantly pushed by any force to get out into the world, I now believe it is beginning to happen naturally. And I believe those that have told me the world needs to hear what I have to say.

So I’m working on gaining security behind my voice. Peeling back layers of shame and trauma that attempt to sabotage my goals and dreams.

I read, I walk, I write, I counsel, I love, and therefore I am.

My relationships with my children are healing nicely. It’s still a lot to be with the ways I’ve caused them pain from my own ignorance and my own traumas. I have to continue to make amends and forgive myself, and that’s no easy feat.

I love my clients past and present. I think about them in my daily life and send them love and light.

I think about my life experiences and those I have loved deeply. With every part of me, and how those experiences have shaped me.

I’m doing a course in miracles.

I’m about to go on a cruise to Bermuda. Only slightly nervous about the possibility of motion sickness, as my body likes to feel firmly planted and in control. Ha, what an illusion. I don’t know if that, or the fact I won’t work for 8 ish days is the more frightening prospect. Both are uncharted territory.

Which is a theme lately in my personal counseling. I am in uncharted territory my counselor said to me the other day. Mostly outside my pattern in most way, maybe some days slipping inside it a little.

What can I say I’m a work in progress.

I’m really happy I wrote this post and I’m hopeful I’m ready to make this a weekly if not a daily practice.

Oh and I’m obsessed with learning Spanish on Duolingo. I marvel at how my brain can recall so much and it’s just there without even trying. I often struggled at age normative times to learn another language. And it’s thrilling to realize that was likely because so much space was taken in my brain by hyper vigilance.

I marvel at the gift of being able to be understanding of myself now, and to be able to communicate in a way I feel understood, which is the real magic.

My heart is continuing to open. I’m more consistent with so many things, and that’s a path I’m very grateful to be walking. No longer beating myself into submission. Less remissions, sparsely placed omissions. Oh there I go rhyming. Can’t help it.

All my love,

C

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Darken The City, Night is a Wire…. Do do do do do do dooooo do.

Do you believe in signs ?! …..

I’m at the New York Athletic Club, in the city that never sleeps. It doesn’t but believe me I do, or there is hell to pay. I’m old now 😉 I was old from the start, even when I was new.

I found out recently I was premature. 5 lbs 2 oz. I believe. I wonder what I was exposed to inside of her. From what I knew outside the odds aren’t in my favor.

I have these new connections with family that feel very grounding and positive and this morning I’m in awe and contemplation.

Is this what most of the other people I know have always had, just naturally. This feeling that they won’t just fly out into space at any moment.

A dear friend once said to me to keep defying gravity. Gravity I think. The invisible force that tethers one to earth. I was untethered and often unbridled and my defense system would shout that I wouldn’t change a thing. But now that I know what I know. You can’t unknow and all of that. I can’t even say that.

What is this feeling?

A feeling of solidness, inhabiting my body. Being at a dinner party with famous Broadway actors and actresses and not feeling less something, less anything.

Famous didn’t matter. It was an intimate gathering, natural. All people passionate about their arts. Some happy and fulfilled, some not as much. There were also wounds at that table. We all have them, some are just more apparent than others.

Yesterday we went to Westsider Rare and Used bookstore. I want to ravage every single one in this city. To touch every spine, cover, and page. To know which one I like best. To feel the knowledge pressing in around me, to hear all the voices of all of those brave writers that made it to the point where they were bound, gathered, and artfully decorated.

I’m ready for a cover and a title and a brand. Brand new. Look at you Christina. You can be and do anything. So what will it be? The crushing weight of possibility. No more crushing weight, only an unbearable lightness of being, he just died recently by the way.

One of the great loves of my life, very early on, came upon me reading Milan Kundera, the book of the very name of above, in a break room in a Trader Joe’s. I had a wedding ring on. I had more naïve enthusiasm than most would know what to do with at that time

All balls and no brain. Which is exactly what I needed to propel me out of a life I was not meant for.

I’ve been shot out of a cannon many times since so to speak. Jet propulsion. My swift expulsion from everything comforting. Including my self concept. Which is more than jarring, it’s actually quite alarming: disarming.

Apparently I’m a wrapper. Who knew. How much is channeled by my early days of resonance with Eminem’s music. Curtain Call. Relatable. It’s not debatable. My mind likes to rhyme.

One of my book store picks this time at random is Junot Diaz This is How You Lose Her. The cover looks interesting, actually not really so much. His name was in a compilation of writers on writing and this made me curious who he is as a writer.

I watched Ammonite the other day. I am haunted by it lately. Still sorting out what that is about. Can’t stop rhyming. Everything in divine timing….

A walk in the park and a stationary store before heading home on the train today. Muji…. I’m told the pages are creamy, buttery, gold.

I just sent out for my passport yesterday. And got two sheets of stamps. I love them. I got Toni Morrison ones and Love ones with puppy’s and hearts.

Here at the NYAC there’s an old fashioned looking letter drop. Between that and the stamps I want to write letters. The art of the letter is long lost.

I write letters that will never go to their recipients, ones only I will ever see. So many of the connections in my life are like that. Extinguished and never without good reason.

I spent so much time second guessing myself. Only to end up here where validation is around every corner and I am safely held.

I just put three new clients on the books yesterday morning. These are a little out of my comfort zone, something I haven’t done in awhile. Hopefully the freshness will be good for all involved.

Fresh eyes, no lies.

The truth will set you free. It always does. There are times I haven’t wanted to be free. I wanted to be held.

You can’t always get what you want, but sometimes you get what you need.

Ok for now back to writing and exploring this iron jungle melting pot, before it gets too hot.

Stay Tuned ….

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New Creation Always comes Out of Old

I am listening to Ruelle radio. I heard a song by her I loved in a movie last night. Wildflower I think the movie was called.

My chest has been heavy lately. Only partially the bad cold I just had. I’ve had anxiety. Which is interesting because in the zoom out, big picture of it all things are going really well. Me doing the work is going really well.

I’m being and becoming more consistent and grounded. I’m in my body more than I’m not. It’s a disconcerting sensation attaching inside a body after years of compensating in a variety of ways and adapting to disconnection.

I am nothing if not adaptable. It’ll be on my headstone. She adapted. It’s not the strongest of the species, but those that can adapt that survive. What was necessary became a lifestyle. What is no longer necessary leaves room for what is essential.

Insert a quote about a prince and his lesson….

Belmont street beckons always. Woodmont is busy today. Normally that would bother me but I’m making time and space for myself anywhere these days.

Today I recognized I’d been too long without the oxygen that being alone provides. Despite all the events being good ones including Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell, it’s a major non negotiable of mine to be alone often and for spans of time. I crave it.

As today I was craving my smoothie water drive and park and meander, through the world and my mind equally.

One day I will look up and…. I lost my train of thought. It went off the tracks. Just like that.

One day maybe I’ll have one of these houses that faces here, because this space is sacred to me. There’s not an explanation. I’m just called to it always and feel at home here.

Hearts are like that too. Inexplicable. Finicky. Unpredictable. I’ve learned a lot about that during my life.

I miss writing here. There’s always so much to say I don’t get to, it pains me.

Life around me is moving fast, and inside me it’s much more still. Thank god.

My nest is nearly empty and yet absolutely full.

My triggers subsiding. Fingers gliding across your surface.

My poet and my scribe and my novelist are all scrambling for front and center lol, no surprise there.

Found twin B her first car. Milestone moment. Able to help and have her do some in her own, the epitome of success as a parent, in my opinion anyway.

I appreciate it all now. Every moment I can get. Yes, even when it’s difficult. Even with a thousand triggers. I’ll take a thousand and one deep breaths. I don’t wanna miss a thing.

She’s leaving for her first year in college. Florida. Bless her. I hate Florida. Hate the humidity and one or two other things. But I’ll love to visit her and hear about what that’s like for her.

The Little Prince has his first apartment with roommates and it’s very close to the house. He’s taking care of himself and learning life.

Twin A is going to finish her second year of college and then head off to UCONN.

In one years time ish unless one comes home I’ll have none of my children living under my roof.

I’m just sitting here facing my beloved water and thinking about this. My life is vast, and full. I’ve lived every inch of it, every corner. And yet there are lifetimes more. How exciting.

My chronic pain is profound. It is not trivial. But I learn to cope a little better every day and it no longer makes me anxious the way it used to. I just learn what I need and how to love and talk to me better. How to listen better.

Heart opening, softening, thawing. Mercy, Grace.

My goal is relaxation and creation. No more hustle and grind. An early retirement of sorts, a peace treaty of the mind.

Man or a monster Sam Tinnesz et Al.

I am proud. That’s what I am. I show up. I stay. I’m steadfast and strong and loving and everything I never came from. And I am finally, finally, not kept out of my own warmth. No more gaslighting. No more making myself small. No accepting less …..

I can’t believe how much cold, hard, estrangement and desolation I lived with inside of me. That breaks my heart.

Monsters by Ruelle. Some kind of theme here :p. I feel endless possibilities at this juncture.

I’m Christina Jenkins now. I’ve never had a last name that felt like home. Now I do. It’s extra ironic and pleasant that was my notebook name of practicing when I dreamt of marrying my first love. And guess what I still love him. A wholesome heartfelt relationship that has lasted our whole lives with a family who loves me as a bonus.

I love my name. Who knew getting married wasn’t the only way to have a name you love or a family for that matter. Now I have many.

An abundance of belonging. And an abundance of tender affections for me.

All my love,

C

Ps it’s a beautiful Saturday. I’m not working. I just saw a Frenchie. I am loved. My needs are met and I now allow my whole story and every inch of my memories and emotions regarding that to exist.

I no longer cut off parts of myself …..

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Transmuting Pain into Power through Personal Narrative

There are things that need to be written from the origination point.

Im listening to I Will Find You by Audiomachine and it is transcendent. It’s making my experience of staring out at the water with my toes in the sand somehow more magical.

In this state I can feel everything I need to feel to have daily presence with myself.

Feeling is safe. Feeling will not kill you.

Writing is safe….

I’ve somehow managed to make my favorite day even better by permitting myself the experience of Victoria Erickson’s writing immersion: Ashes and Rain.

This is where we come alive out of the shadows and into the light….. next song! I can feel it rising, golden waves of sound. Ruelle Radio. The smell here is divine.

So many things are coming full circle for me at this time in my life. Breaking out of the story, any of them and into pure presence. Less perfection. Who knew how much of that I actually had hanging around. Not me that’s for sure.

My third immersion class today, and yesterday was my third Saturday that was my own. But who’s counting? Me. I am!

I’m reading the exact book I need right now. It describes this path I’ve been on. Stephen Cope Soul Friends. I can’t believe how similar so many of the experiences described are and that someone else was able to articulate it in this way.

So of course I’m on a reading journey that book spurned. Exploring Thoreau, Dickinson, Forster (Maurice), a separate peace. And many more. And also being introduced to many new poets via Victoria. Ada Limon, David whyte and more.

I will carry you came on. As I’m getting ready to depart and back in my car in its usual spot.

I have an immense feeling that I will live in Milford the rest of my life. When I die I’d like my ashes spread at Woodmont, at all my spots along this stretch. It has called to me long as I can remember. I first found it by wandering on some of my first run/ walks with self as a young mother trying to create a space for her thoughts.

I still remember the day I first walked down Belmont St. And as the road rose up there’s a moment when you can first see the water. That moment is my favorite part. I still feel that when I drive here. The moment water and I meet, magic.

I’m more embodied now which means that I’ve expanded from hours in the bath to bodies of water out in the world and to nature as well. I’m learning to keep my attention when out in the world, and to still be able to write.

We write alongside life…. Not separated from it. I am learning.

I think a new Sunday routine may emerge of contemplation by the water along with my exercise prior to my writing class 12-3.

I go to therapy one time weekly now. Friday mornings. It was a long time I did two days a week. Doing only one isn’t some accomplishment, as in I’m more healed. It’s just a natural progression to using that time in other ways. So maybe it is ha 😉

I’m getting ready to embark on a new level of healing with that therapy that is focused on the trauma held within my bodies. The things my mind cannot access. Denali sized blocks.

I’m scared. Raw and shaking. Heart racing. Sweaty scared. And I’m grateful to be able to fly that close to the truth and to survive it.

Transmuting pain into personal power. Becoming a healer also to myself.

I’m writing poetry. I’m thinking of the connections that drew that side out just based on the emotions encompassed within. Those who recognized the poet and the passion within me. Who saw. Who felt me.

I am with them all the time. They are with me all the time. There is no need for separation.

I’m learning to no longer censor myself. I am de compartmentalizing all that has been and this is a painful process.

Becoming fully embodied and present. It’s excruciating and also the most beautiful suffering I’ve ever experienced. That look you saw wasn’t darkness it was the depth of my ability to connect. Interpret as you will. But I see it now.

I see it now.

The transformation is exquisite…

I’m on the rise is the song on now….. pay attention…..

Writing time…..

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A Routine by Any Other Name Just Wouldn’t Taste as Sweet.

Well I don’t believe in wasted time, but I understand his meaning…..

Good morning! Here I am because habits are easier to follow through with. I’m still toying with my daily routine, and probably always will be due to my belief that routine can be the death of creativity. It can also be the vehicle in some ways so once again….

Balance is essential.

I’d say for me balance is a larger obstacle than anyone with a lesser degree of trauma. My executive lobe probably looks like Swiss cheese or whatever a damaged executive lobe looks like on MRI. Can you just request an MRI to see the degree trauma has affected your brain ? I need to look into this more.

I walked one mile this morning. I have an 8:15 this morning and then back to backs until 6:30. When I say back to backs now I mean with 15-25 minutes in between if I end on time. I don’t know what I did or how I scheduled them with no time in between. Now I do my note and use the bathroom or whatever. And this keeps me much more satisfied overall. Who knew.

I’m about to change my schedule so that my weekends are always mine. I’ll likely work m-t and Fridays I’m in love, aka my therapy and writing, maybe a book by the shore or a coffee shop, and then two more real estate days Saturday and Sunday.

What will life be like?

I’m scared and excited to often be less scared and excited from actual fear. It’s training. A whole lot of training. And a whole lot of grieving.

Grieving all the things that never were, that I’d hoped and dreamed for and allowing myself to do that while also moving forward. It does not need to look or be some perfect way. This is not the time or the place for good ol’ right and wrong. Those concepts have stolen enough of my life thank you very much.

So my walk this morning. Exhilarating. The season helps of course. Begin the day with endorphins and energy. At least one mile, when I have more time between two and three and I’m thinking of ending the day with a lap as well, a lap is a mile. When I am able to, some days are packed. I am grateful for the packed days as well.

This morning I ended season one of the CoDependent Mind with Brian and Stephanie. I’ll copy my notes from it, the standouts that I’d like to elaborate on at a later time here. These are all things the author said.

I’d have to try to process it later because the fear and the shame were too overwhelming.

My attention was often consumed with emotional avoidance techniques.

Compartmentalization to avoid cognitive dissonance as well as a feeling of helplessness imparted by the trauma.

Compartmentalization was one of the first causes of Not being able to feel and respond to emotions in real time.

This is a thought I had as a result: all unfinished for now. There will be layers at a later time I’d imagine. There’s name calling as a tactic and name calling as an emotional reaction when overwhelmed. Both are unproductive. Both can be transmuted into a healthier choice.

It’s interesting the musical foreshadowing of my story of my very own life. I’ve always loved the Cure Friday I’m in Love. And now it’s a day for me to kick off the weekend… sacred. My own. All those delicious hours to create with.

So my routines and focus working toward healthy eating, exercise, reading, writing, thinking daily. These are my days.

I don’t like being altered. I’ll have an occasional glass of Chardonnay with oysters, a summer fave, this just began. I’ll have a cold Bad Seed to unwind after a long hot day or if the mood strikes, and or a dirty martini out to dinner. Once in awhile I get adventurous and go for the craft cocktail, but more often than not I find them headache inducing and cloyingly sweet.

I no longer drink beer basically at all. I like the idea of it, but not it itself. Boy isn’t that a metaphor.

Learning how to say no and to know what I want when I want it and what I don’t want, has been a steep learning curve. As the podcast suggest it’s much safer to agree and assimilate and nearly lose oneself entirely.

My bathtime is beginning to dwindle and I need to finish my pages and I’d like to read one chapter of East of Eden before my day begins.

I’d like to incorporate one hour of reading time daily ideally and at least one of play and connecting in whatever form that takes.

These are my priorities.

I’m entering such a different phase of my life right now and it’s a bit terrifying if I’m being honest. It’s also liberating.

So for the rest of the morning I’ll ponder why liberation brings such great fear…. I could give you a fast intellectual answer. But I’m more interested in what my heart wants to speak now.

This will be at the center of all good things in my life. Always has been.

All my love,

C

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A Tie That Binds: Shame a Game of the Same.

“And now that you don’t have to be perfect you can be good.” Steinbeck

I’m listening to a Codependent Mind, Brian and Stephanie talking about trauma and shame from a unique perspective.

I’m reading East of Eden. Sometimes novels are a lifetime of therapy all in one story depending on what you bring to it.

I’m working a Course in Miracle’s, albeit very small bites at a time and lots of reflection. See my tendency to explain my ability to produce. Would ya look at that 😉

Atonement. Atunenent. To self and other.

Slowing. Staying with me.

“Am I practicing what I preach” is my usual alignment question. Or preaching more than I practice. Preaching is easier, less vulnerable. Vulnerable is the heart opener: it must be exercised over and over.

A typical refrain lately is “it’s a practice not a perfect.” Annoying counselor isms for 500 please Alex.

Double or nothing.

I have returned from the shore. Restful bliss. How did I go so many years without? That is the question of the hour, the day, the week, the year, and my life in so many ways.

Along with how did I learn how to cope, and how has that impacted the trajectory of my fate.

Amor Fati

I’m on episode 7 of the first season of the co dependent mind and they are talking about how emotions become cut off and compartmentalization. Yep I’m in the right place.

I love the rainy ness of the day. I never understand why people don’t like the rain. I love how it feels on my skin just as much as the sun. Both are necessary.

The green is here and so also is the sounds of lawnmowers and gardeners alike. My hair is doing that wavy thing it does with moisture.

Plumbing work on the house. The deck is in finishing stages (finally, I hope). The pool will be opened soon.

A house continues to become a home: as does my heart. Parallel lines in my universe.

I’m here just swimming daily inside the depths of myself, and coming up more often for air than I have in the past.

I love that for me.

Long time coming.

If I’m a poet I’m a poet.

If I’m a song I’m a song .

Less obsessive thoughts about what’s right or wrong.

Where did that come from anyway….

You know

A story for another day.

For now all I have to do is walk.

I was finally ready, and chose a new piano teacher. The scar is more brown than pink now. So despite the argument of my nervous system best to get back on the horse and all of that.

Tally Ho !

I’m making some schedule changes I’m anxious and excited about. I’ll have significant more time for myself, and my god does that challenge all the programming cable car pathways.

I commandeer my own vehicle these days. Any mistakes are mine, and all victories large and small as well.

I’m no longer agonizing in so many of the ways I was, as if every step could be a land mine.

What life is this I often say.

Heaven really is a place on earth and make me a believer baby.

I am

It’s evening Christina. After six clients Christina. Walking again. Taking in the spring sights and smells. As the day winds down.

I just used foresight of regret as a motivation for change with a client and it’s giving me pause to contemplate my own. Because of course it is.

The trees are aglow. The clouds highlighted in the same.

I don’t have what I thought I did in the tank for writing. Only being for me this evening.

Good thing I got a little down during less wiped out Christina time.

I plan on writing here more. My follow through and consistency has improved in so many other areas, it’s time for it to be so in my relationship with me.

Oh but before I go a random but probably not thread. My piano teacher is the mother of the boyfriend of a favorite bartender at the place formerly known as Crave. She introduced me to East of Eden. She (my new teacher) just finished it.

I remember the day I sat at the bar with my books and drink exactly. She has quotes from the book tattooed and I was excited even to be in the presence of another lover of the written word and thought whatever makes a person feel so passionate to preserve this art on their body…. I want to read that.

And several years later here I am, with her boyfriend’s mother as my piano teacher.

The universe has plans

I feel it…

In my fingers

See what I did there 😉