Archives for category: Metaphors

Healing isn’t an easy thing, is it? I mean, when the damage is substantial, or the illness left to go too long, there are ‘complications’. Life is that way, too, and emotional healing has potential complications all its own. 

So much potential in our choices.

So much potential in our choices.

Wednesdays are therapy days for me. I do what I can to set clear boundaries, explicitly state needs for support, and clearly set expectations about any continued self-care once I get home. I don’t use a checklist, but I handle each piece with great care; my partners matter to me, their emotional wellness matters to me, and making room for them to enjoy their experience even when my own is less enjoyable in the moment matters to me, too. It rarely turns out well; they are also human, also making choices, also have needs, boundaries, limits of their own. Although we are ‘all in this together’, we are also each handling our baggage quite alone. 

Yesterday’s session was very difficult, highly emotional, and I knew I wasn’t ‘done with it’ when I left my appointment. I wisely set expectations that I’d need some time meditating after I got home. I am learning more about recognizing what I need to take care of me, and learning to set clear expectations about those needs. There’s always more to learn; I apparently need some practice on following through. I got home to a house full of hungry people, eager to go out to dinner, and at least one of them irked with me that I hadn’t already said ‘yes’ or ‘no’, convinced I had been part of conversations about the matter. I hadn’t; I’d just arrived home, and there had been no opportunity to have those conversations with me. (One of the small common challenges of a poly amorous lifestyle, I find, is how easy it is to be mistaken about with whom a conversation happened.) I was hungry, myself, and facing the pressure of both my appetite and theirs, I caved to that pressure and went to dinner straight away. No meditation. That choice affected each moment that followed. 

...stormy weather...

…stormy weather…

I learn more quickly from mistakes than from successes. I won’t likely forget that lesson any time soon. 

Wednesdays are hard on me. Harder still to figure out how it is that each Wednesday I am at grave risk of further pain and turmoil at home (or how to remedy that). I either really really suck at expectation setting and maintaining boundaries, or my partners are totally human, wrapped up in their own needs and agenda, and just not particularly engaged with me in this area of my life. That’s pretty simplistic, and I suspect both are true to some extent, in varying amounts depending on circumstances. I could use a break on Wednesdays. I don’t know how to get there. I’d like tenderness, gentleness, kindness, compassion, loving support, lots of hugs and holding, intimate connection in a positive emotional framework… and I’d very much like my experience on Wednesdays to be understood to be ‘about me‘. It seems so simple in text. Somehow, it just isn’t that simple. 

This is where my current focus on emotional self-sufficiency comes into play. The more emotionally self-sufficient I can become, the less I ‘need’ from my partnerships, friendships, lovers – and the more I can choose those relationships based on desire, enjoyment and shared values, and maintain them because they have value in my experience, not because they meet emotional needs. Honestly, I don’t see it as choosing between having my needs met by my relationships, versus meeting them myself. From my current vantage point it is more a matter of learning to meet my own needs where that potential exists, versus having those needs met in a haphazard hit or miss way when they can be met by someone else at all. Each Wednesday that I struggle to fulfill emotional needs that are a byproduct of my therapy experience, I learn more about being self-reliant emotionally, which seems worthwhile. 

I’ve changed a lot over the past year. It has gotten pretty lonely sometimes, and I experience profound moments of self-doubt, and doubts about my relationships. I say that because it isn’t always obvious to me that this is common to the human experience, generally, and later I may need this reminder that it is quite common indeed. 🙂  

...Eventually the light breaks through the darkness, and there is a new day...

…Eventually the light breaks through the darkness, and there is a new day…

Here we are, a new day. An opportunity for new choices. Today is a good day for choices, and for change. Today is a good day to take care of me. Today is a good day to treat others with kindness, and myself too while I’m at it. Today is a good day to change the world. 

Some days I just have to pause for the good stuff.

One lovely moment in summer.

One lovely moment in summer.

 

I woke with a nasty headache this morning, a sort of combination headache, part dehydration, perhaps, and part sinus headache. It seems largely irrelevant now, that was more than an hour ago. I’m already well beyond the challenge of that moment, and quietly enjoying the moments after meditating; still considering the theme of the insistent thoughts that intruded. I am feeling appreciative that life isn’t worse, that’s all. 

I’ve been doing ‘the gratitude thing’ on Facebook. I enjoy it and have long since lost count of any number of days; it is enough to be grateful, to appreciate what is good, what is going well, what satisfies my needs. This morning is a little unusual. I am most sensitive to the gratitude of ‘not being worse than it is’ – without any negative emotional experience, and actually also better than neutral. Small things matter. It matters, for example, that although I’m in considerable pain from osteo-arthritis in my spine, pretty much all the time these days, I’m also still walking around on my legs with good ease of movement, in general, and managing 5 miles a day or more. That’s the sort of thing, this morning; gratitude doesn’t have to be dishonest, doesn’t need me to overlook what is real, or that I have moments of suffering. It’s a comfortable and nurturing realization, and I feel whole while considering it. 

One beautiful summer day.

One beautiful summer day.

Yesterday was hot and sunny. My lunch walk was a test of endurance by the time I returned to the office. I didn’t regret taking the time, or making the effort, the value in the moment is considerable in spite of the heat; exercise, sunshine, the beauty of life and the world around me…totally worth it. 

Color and perspective

Summer up close; I have to be out in it to see it.

Isn’t that how a lot of things ‘really’ are? The yearned for, paired with the tolerated. The needed, sought understanding there may also be a burden. The anticipated, alongside the dreaded. The pain and the reward. What is enough? Perspective, balance, acceptance, gratitude…all working together in a framework of mindful will. This is a very interesting journey. 

Small stuff matters.

Small stuff matters.

Today has all the ingredients of a very good day. What will I choose? What will I learn from moments of suffering? How will I face my challenges, meet my needs over time, and graciously handle the worst of what life throws at me, without being flattened by it? Today feels full of opportunities. 

Wow. What an amazing thing progress and growth can be. I overslept. Again. It’s not a big deal; I get up much earlier than my work schedule requires, carving out some time for me from among the quiet hours before dawn. No panic. No stress. No sky-rocketing blood pressure as I try to race through the essentials of the morning routine to ensure I still arrive at work on time. None of that. My lovely at-home partner called at a merry “Good morning!” as she headed down the hall. I woke, with a laugh and a groggy good morning back. I assumed I had forgotten my alarm. I simply went ahead and got up, taking the smile that remained of the laugh right along with me. It’s a lovely morning.

I’m appreciate of the additional sleep; I struggle with sleep disorders and insomnia. Beyond that, I appreciate how far I’ve come that a bit over oversleeping no longer launches me into overdrive, creating a level of panic and stress that will ride my ass hard all day long and leave me exhausted on the other side, cross, resentful, and generally with a nasty headache, and a worse temper.  It was my traveling partner who suggested (years ago) that I slow things down in the morning to eliminate that concern. I didn’t really buy into it at the time, but gave it a shot. It helped right away, and has been my practice ever since – but this? This morning right here? This is a real victory, because I am relaxed, still enjoying my morning, still taking care of me. Even if I choose to go into work a little later as a result, this works because I feel content, balanced, and rested. The value of rest, in my experience, can’t be overstated.

I’ve overslept twice in a month, though. It’s incredibly rare, and doesn’t feel ‘like me’. The last time was pure exhaustion, as I recall, and a short night. This morning I woke feeling sure I must have forgotten to set the alarm, but looking at it now I see that is not the case. This is how my wee alarm clock lets me know a battery change is due. Usually, that happens when I’m already awake, and simply notice it isn’t going off at the time it should be, when that time comes, and I’m sitting here noticing both the time and the lack of beeping. lol

A lesson learned, a successful application of new skills, a lovely day.

Yesterday was a lovely day, too.

Yesterday I felt restless all afternoon, my consciousness racing ahead of the moment eagerly wanting to get home to… paint.  I have already ‘moved in’ to the loft with my paints, canvas, easel, pens, paper, and inspiration. This is my first living arrangement with full-time painting space, and I spent a portion of the evening painting after work. It was lovely to just go to my easel, and have everything at the ready. The satisfaction and delight in being able to simply pick up a brush, and paint, and walk away to do something else without 2 hours of tearing it all down and cleaning up to ‘get the mess out of the way’ is indescribable. My partner seemed pleased that I chose to paint, and got some pictures and video. The whole thing feels like joy and wonder and… ‘just right’. I neglected my needs in this area far too long. I chose, again and again, move after move, relationship after relationship, to compromise on creative space such that I just didn’t have any. I made it my lowest priority. I made me my lowest priority. Fuck, it’s no wonder I’ve spent so much time mired in chaos and damage; I didn’t take the time I needed to work on it. I didn’t make my needs a non-negotiable priority for myself.

Even at 51, it’s never too late for a course correction, for a change of heart, for a new way. It’s never too late to choose to treat myself well.

Like summer flowers, our opportunities are not forever; like gardening, our efforts make room for more opportunities.

Like summer flowers, our opportunities are not forever; like gardening, our efforts make room for more opportunities.

This has been a wonderful week. I’ve enjoyed the closeness with my at-home partner. I miss my traveling partner, and I’m eager to welcome him home this weekend, for some longer time. Right now, in this moment, I feel content, I feel loved, and I feel supported and nurtured. It’s lovely. It may not last forever – in fact, based on experience, it likely won’t – but this is my experience now, and now is very good.  Now is enough.

“Enough”? Enough, indeed. I even have enough time this morning. I overslept, and still have enough time for an iced coffee, meditation, yoga, all the usual hygiene and grooming stuff…enough time for gratitude, enough time for love.

There's always time enough for love.

There’s always time enough for love.

That’s a simple enough observation to share on a quiet morning; it gets easier with practice. It’s true of nearly anything one might practice, and would go without saying for that reason, only… I don’t know about  you, but I regularly forget that. I’m not looking to achieve perfection through practicing; it’s enough that practicing helps. I’m delighted that both the practicing and applying the skill, task, process, or practice I am practicing does get easier. With practice. 🙂

Like pictures of flowers, it's worth it to practice.

Like pictures of flowers, it’s worth it to practice.

Yesterday had all the potential in the world to go very wrong. I had taken my dose of Rx pain relief the night before, and rather carelessly just toss the bottle back into its place without being particularly mindful that I had just taken the last dose. As in, I had run out. I work hard to prevent that from happening because the outcome of unexpectedly withdrawing from it is not pleasant. I didn’t really think I was at risk – there was another whole bottled right there…only… there wasn’t. That was an entirely different medication, and the re-fill of my pain-killer hadn’t yet arrived in the mail. That seemed no big deal in the morning, at least initially. I was in a great mood and not much pain. So I shrugged it off and went on with my day. Before I even got to work, my mood started to turn, and I felt this simmering anger in the background that I couldn’t explain – it was a lovely day and I felt great when the day started.

By the time I got to work I felt inexplicably resentful, cross, short-tempered and hostile. Being ever so human, my brain started to craft explanations that seemed reasonable, which – since there wasn’t anything wrong to cause the feelings I was having, didn’t bode well for the future of the day, or my mood.  Later, some juxtaposition of thoughts and observations drove me to take a ‘time out’ in a quiet corner and meditate for a moment or two, and as I gently considered my being, I realized I was in a lot of pain. A lot. That’s when the smile broke through, and my shoulders relaxed, and the ferocity building in my heart died away; of course I was in pain, I hadn’t taken my pain medication. The last piece slipped into place and I recognized that the medication I hadn’t taken easily accounted for the entire experience. My experience immediately improved. I still hurt. I spent the day in a lot of pain. I still had that headache, and withdrawing from a pain-killer unexpectedly does suck – but it’s totally survivable, only mildly unpleasant. Certainly, it does not amount to an emotional betrayal of any sort, and there’s no call to allow it to ruin a productive work day.

I spent the rest of the day almost merry. I phoned my physician, asked to have the Rx refilled at the local pharmacy. My at-home partner offered to pick it up on her way home so it would be waiting for me when I arrived. Emotional crisis averted. I even thought to pay myself on the back for not allowing my emotions to rule – or ruin – the day, and enjoyed a moment of quite celebration – practicing the practices definitely making an every day difference.

Yoga is harder when I’m in pain, but getting through a sequence that addresses that pain reduces the pain I’m in.  That’s one practice I definitely intend to keep.

Meditation doesn’t come naturally during an emotional storm, or an angry moment, or dark despair; that’s why it requires practice, and making that commitment has resulted [for me] in more emotional resilience, more awareness and presence, less fearfulness and anxiety, better sleep, and a deep sense of calm that is easier to reach. Another practice I’m fully committed to; it’s the most powerful Rx I’ve ever had for some of what ails me.

Self-care practices go unnoticed in the lives of so many people. Observation in my own experience tells me, sadly, that much of what is wrong with the world is how poorly we treat ourselves, care for ourselves (or don’t), and tend to our own needs; we are rarely able to do better for others than we can do for ourselves. I’m fairly strict with myself these days, in a loving way, about being on time with medication, getting enough sleep, eating right, and staying on track with fitness goals – because when I treat myself well, I treat the world well, and enjoy my experience more.

A lovely day to treat myself well, and enjoy my experience more.

A lovely day to treat myself well, and enjoy my experience more.

Today seems ordinary enough, in a very pleasant way. Today I’ll take my time, savor the moments, and enjoy my experience. Today is a good day to enjoy the world.

When I was 18, and until I almost 40, I danced. I moved. I bounced. No good groove could hit my consciousness without resulting in the exquisitely free feeling of being able to move to it sweeping over me, and utterly lacking any self-consciousness in the matter, I danced. I am not a trained dancer. I haven’t ‘studied’ accepted forms of dance or movement. I grew up on Soul Train, and hanging out listening to dance-able tracks, hitting the clubs in my 20s as much for the experience of dancing, of losing myself in the experience, as anything else.  It isn’t something I talk about much now; I still grieve losing that spark.

I don’t know when it actually happened. At some point I just sort of ‘froze up’. Oh, I still let go and feel the freedom to move now and then, but something inside me now quickly identifies it and puts and end to that shit as soon as I’m aware of it. What killed the dancing? I usually point to the arthritis, but my arthritis set in back in the early 90s. It wasn’t until much later than I lost the will to dance, and I remember the very poignant moment I finally noticed it had died.  Odd that I mention it this morning? No. Not really.

Yesterday at work I was thinking about it. Thinking about movement. About dance. Contemplating why I prefer one sort of music over another, and realized it has a lot to do with that ‘urge to move’; even without actually following through, I love music that drives dance. There’s incredible power in that freedom to move expressively, to celebrate with utter freedom, to let go of convention and self-consciousness and be, in motion. It is a different meditation. I miss the strength of it. I found myself thinking I might benefit from some truly novel experience, a departure from my norms, a return to more primitive pleasure in movement…or…something.

My email alerted me that I had a message; my partners asking me if I am interested in attending an event… a festival… a ‘sacred dance’ festival. Wait…what? That couldn’t be any more different that what I’m generally doing any given day of the week if it had been crafted to be so. It struck me strangely that it speaks to directly to the heart of the chaos and damage, inviting me to come and stare into the face of whatever has kept me frozen for so long. My fingers eagerly type an enthusiastic ‘yes’ reply of some sort while my demons sit back, quite astonished and helpless. I am tickled by the strangeness of it, even now, smiling and wondering what may come of it.

Happening.

Happening.

Sacred dance has a long history with human primates. Native American Ghost Dancing.  Bharatanatyam of the Tamil Nadu. Sufi Dervishes. Circle dances are multi-cultural, existing in many places, times, and cultures. There’s more. There’s always more. There’s ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ – creating a stage for some amazing art in a very commercial way. There are still nightclubs, and in spite of the comedy about it, even ‘twerking‘ is ‘real’ dancing (there are even handy YouTube tutorials!). “Ecstatic Dance” movements, tribes, events, and communities exist; human beings dance.

I miss dancing. Arthritis or not, I want to be movement and rhythm again; I want to dance. I suppose diving headlong into sacred dance as a shared sacrament and celebration is taking a bigger than small step… It is, however, the step I am taking. I wonder where it leads?

Today is a good day to take another look in the mirror. Today is a good day to explore all my potential – even the uncomfortable bits. Today is a good day to change the world.