Archives for category: women

I have some amazing friends. I spent time with one of them last night, after an incredibly difficult and emotional therapy appointment. We didn’t talk about therapy. We didn’t talk about ‘my issues’. We got caught up on ‘things in general’ and shared some laughs, some compassion, and some connected time. It was exactly what I needed. Awareness. Support. Affection. Openness.

Things in therapy are headed for deeper waters these days. This is the first time therapy has ever held real promise of reaching emotional wellness… I try not to get my hopes up, and simply be present, and continue to practice what is working now.

Strange stuff in the news; a lot of articles seem more ‘emotional‘ than I recall news tending to be. It’s probably ‘just me’; like anyone else, I read the news in the context of my own experience, and of late it has been an emotional experience. I’m not running from that. I am learning to value my emotional experience, make room for it, and allow it to speak to me. I am choosing to spend less time with people who are not in a place where they can also respect my emotional experience. They have their own path, I’ll let them walk it without interference from me; we are each having our own experience.

Each having our own experience, walking our own path, and making our own choices.

Each having our own experience, walking our own path, and making our own choices.

Much of the afternoon yesterday I felt raw, exposed, vulnerable, and on the edge of panic. I don’t waste any time during my one-hour session with my therapist, we dive into the rough stuff straight away, these days. I walk away feeling certain the effort – and progress – are worth the money. It’s still hard to be near ‘my fellow man’ for hours afterward, and the idle chatter of people who don’t share my experiences grates on my raw nerves. It’s okay; hanging out with a friend is a salve for raw nerves, every time.

Some metaphor about blooming in shadows, or perspective, or... hey, it's a flower. Flowers are lovely.

Some metaphor about blooming in shadows, or perspective, or… hey, it’s a flower. Flowers are lovely.

The world isn’t seeming a very nice place lately, and it’s not for any lack of loveliness; there are flowers and birdsong aplenty, children’s laughter is still commonplace, and there’s no shortage of sunny summer days. People can be so mean to each other, though, so cruel, so callous. ‘Political rhetoric’ is sometimes so vicious, so lacking in compassion, that it  hardly seems that anyone is still aware that the outcome of the things being discussed effect people. Real people. Human beings. Has everyone forgotten? It’s not actually ‘about’ ideology – none of it. It’s all about people, and most everything we do and choose ultimately is.

Please be kind to people. Crazy people, sad people, angry people, frustrated people, people whose ideas are not your own, people who are famous, people who have been overlooked; it costs nothing to be kind, and it can change the world. Please be kind to women people, men people, children people. Please just be kind – there isn’t room on this planet for even one more jerk.  Please be kind to people you just don’t understand, and to people you understand only to well, and dislike completely; kindness can change hearts, and open minds.  Please be kind to yourself, too; you won’t find yourself being any kinder to others than you are capable of being for yourself. Please be kind to sick people, and to people struggling to be well on limited resources. Please be kind to people who are suffering, even when you are suffering, too. Please just take a moment to be kinder than you knew you could, and to understand that each time you do, you prepare yourself for a better world by helping to create it. I’ll do it, too.

Today is a good day to choose kindness. Today is a good day to reach out to a far away friend. Today is a good day to look ahead to better days, and make the choices that create them. Today is a good day to change the world.

Another morning. I’m irked about small things, but woke early and spent an hour meditating and finding my way to a sense of calm acceptance and general contentment. It’s nice to be able to reach for it like a cold cola on a summer day and find relief. Practice. Practice. Practice.

We are each having our own experience. Surely the decisions made by asshats in black robes are not the product of viciousness, hate, and disregard for the fundamental humanity of others. It’s always far more likely a product of short-sightedness, inexperience, lack of perspective, and sure, actual cognitive shortfalls that are inevitable in the population; we are not all equally gifted, or equally willing to serve mankind well. Even judges and lawyers are having their own experiences, likely quite human ones.  I wonder what it must be like to go to work every day knowing the decisions you make will affect millions, and that a poor choice might cost many lives and change the face of the entire culture for the worse? Do Supreme Court justices wake up in the morning and think “today I will make the very best, wisest, decision I can make to better the lives of the people of this nation”? Or…do they just sort of…go to work?

Sometimes a little bit is quite enough.

Sometimes a little bit is quite enough.

Second espresso. Drinking them straight this morning, in a lovely stainless steel espresso demi-tasse cup I purchased decades ago, in Germany. It is a moment of exquisite satisfaction to enjoy the espresso in this cup, that was selected with such care as an addition to a growing collection of demi-tasse cups and saucers I had begun in my early twenties as a distraction from the horrors and stress of my life. This particular cup and saucer are as close to ‘indestructible’ as anything I own. This morning, that is meaningful, and I savor that quality quietly, as day breaks.

I am thinking about ‘truth’ and ‘reality’ and the way we use words to define our experiences, both physical and emotional, and our rather unfortunate willingness as human primates to deny each other the opportunity to be accepted for the experience we are indeed having, independent of each other.  It’s a pretty unpleasant thing we do to each other, actually. I see it a lot.  I’ll share what I mean by relating a conversation I recently overheard, that appeared to be between lovers.

Man (sharing plans for the near term future) “This will be fine. I’ve updated the budget. Now that you’re back to work, we’re in a good place for this. We’re wealthy!”

Woman (in an irritated contradictory tone) “I don’t agree.”

Man “You don’t agree?” (looks hurt and confused, concerned that plans are now derailed)

Woman “We’re not ‘wealthy’. I don’t agree with that.”

The discussion continued for a few more minutes before they went separate ways, clearly hurt, angry, frustrated – neither of them seemed to ‘feel heard’. Small wonder, really. Most people don’t seem to grasp the idea that it isn’t appropriate to disagree with a subjective emotionally based value statement that an individual makes about his or her own experience.  It’s just mean and rude, and pretty dismissive.  It’s easy to lose our way on that one, too, because disagreeing regarding a factual matter is appropriate, and often needful. “Wealthy” isn’t a factually defined term. It’s an emotionally defined term based on the speaking individual’s personal identity, how they feel about money, their perspective and experience with having, versus not having, and how much room they feel they have in their budget. It’s very personal. I’m sure there are incredibly rich people in terms of cash flow, real estate holdings, offshore investments, and capital in savings, who do not define themselves as ‘wealthy’ at all. Why would I think that? I know one.  I also know people who barely get by on a part-time job who feel incredibly ‘wealthy’ because their financial needs are comfortably met much of the time and their emotional lives are comfortable and nurturing. They view ‘wealth’ differently. There is, however, not a damned thing to disagree with.

This is not a discussion about wealth. It’s a matter of words, and words matter.  A ‘feeling of wealth’ is very subjective and doesn’t really have much to do with money. Any time a person flatly contradicts the emotional value statement of another person’s subjective experience, the person being contradicted feels rejected, dismissed, denied, misunderstood, and ‘not heard’. What they are being told is that their experience doesn’t count, or isn’t valid. That’s a pretty shitty way to treat another person. I work hard these days not to do that particular thing, and instead choosing to really hear what that emotional value statement is actually communicating.  It takes practice.

We each have our own subjective experience with ourselves, and with the world.  I myself feel incredibly injured by the recent SCOTUS decision regarding corporate personhood and the rights of corporate persons to deny me my rights as an actual person. It’s a big deal. It’s also highly subjective; most of my male friends and associates don’t have the same emotional experience with regard to the particular decision I am referencing. It is difficult to describe the additional hurt I feel when I try to talk about my experience in terms of emotional value statements; the lack of shared understanding quickly gets in the way, and I often find myself, once again, feeling dismissed, isolated, invalidated, overlooked, misunderstood, or straight up rejected and denied understanding at all, because of attempts to disagree with my emotional experience. That sucks.

Are you doing it, too? I catch myself now and again; I’m working very hard to root out this particular petty evil from the way I treat others. Is there a chance I’m not being clear on this? How about another example? Let’s use ‘beauty’ instead of ‘wealth’.  Imagine that you have a dear friend, or lover, or family member – someone you really care about in a positive way – and imagine they are horrifically disfigured from an acid attack that left their face badly scarred. You’re hanging out and your family member says, in a moment of great delight – maybe trying on clothes, or preparing for a fantastic night out – “I’m so beautiful!” Do you disagree with them? I mean, even in the privacy of your own thoughts – do you hear yourself saying “Um, but… no, not really.”? Are you that person? The utterly subjective nature of beauty being what it is, and then on top of that the utterly subjective nature of our individual experiences, and how we identify ourselves, and define our experiences… how could you? Rationally, logically, you wouldn’t have a leg to stand on – because ‘beauty’ is not a rational logical construct. It’s an emotional value statement. The person saying they feel beautiful gets to make the call on that – not you.  You’re your own person, of course, and you can have a different experience.  Disagreeing, though? Entirely inappropriate, and actually quite cruel, mean, and the sort of petty nastiness that makes the world less emotionally safe that most of us would like it to be.

I’m definitely on to something here, and a new bit of path opens before me. It’s part of The Big 5, too, isn’t it? I think this one falls under the heading of ‘Respect’. When we respect each other’s subjective emotional experience there is an opportunity to feel more profoundly nurtured, accepted, heard… that all sounds wonderful.

It's a good day to reflect.

It’s a good day to reflect.

Today is a good day to listen well, and with my whole attention. Today is a good day to respect the experiences of others, and to value their teaching. Today is a good day to respect each other’s fundamental humanity, however different we are. Today is a good day to respect my own experience, and understand that no one really can ‘disagree’ with my emotional value statements, or my feelings; they are mine and can’t be argued with unless I choose to allow it. Today is a good day to recognize that we all want to be heard.

I woke feeling a sense of urgency-not-quite-dread that nearly launched me from my bed at high speed, and that my always helpful brain tried to frame up as ‘feeling purposeful’ straight away, no doubt to keep me moving along productively. My alarm woke me, which is rare. Rarer still, it didn’t wake me immediately, and the strident beeping was likely what caused me to wake in overdrive. Even after stopping myself, slowing down, doing some calming breath work and yoga, I got through my morning routine to the point at which I have coffee and email in front of me in an impressive 13 minutes. (No, I didn’t ‘time it’, I just checked the clock when I grabbed my coffee.) I’m not celebrating that as any sort of achievement; I’m not in the Army, there is no urgent crisis requiring timely action this morning, and I am not ‘running late’. In fact… I may never be ‘running late’ ever again…

I do have a ‘complicated relationship with time’.  That’s how I’ve framed up my issues with it, lately.  Before I started down the path of being more mindful and taking care of me, I referred to it as ‘The Time Thing’.  It was a very big, very ugly, very problematic deal with me. Being late, especially if caused through no action of my own, and unavoidably circumstantial, could set me off on a screaming tirade, real fury and rage, on this utterly inappropriate level that isn’t really describable with words. I wore, at one point in my late 20s, multiple wrist watches, carefully set to the same time. I was quietly compulsive about time and timing, and any suggestion that a work task was particularly time-sensitive could set me off taking time & motion data for days until I stripped the task down to its most pure elements, and mastered the timing completely for a more predictable experience.

Yep. I have a complicated relationship with time.  It hasn’t been as bad as all that for a long while, but planning things remains pretty critical to my every day experience, and although I’m damned adaptable in the face of plans deviating from reality – because they nearly always do – I still experience pretty significant stress from small things like being a few minutes late. (I’m salaried, but in spite of that I walk into the office each day at a very predictable time, with little deviation, quite as a matter of practice, rather than effort.) Many of my other behaviors around habits, routines, and productivity build off my issues with time, and timeliness.

I may be done with that. (I may not be.) This morning, over my coffee and my Facebook feed, someone linked an article with a headline that caught my attention. “The Day I Stopped Saying Hurry Up”  I rarely expect an article to resonate with me on this level. We lose so much when we hurry. Why do I keep doing it? Why all the stress over a moment in time that is not now? Isn’t the first most important thing right now always right now, itself? Find my moment? I’m standing on it. Suddenly, I feel so free.  Has the burden of Time been that heavy for so long?  I’m not saying I want to be late for work, but I think I’m okay with leaving late, early, or at some moment on the clock that isn’t pre-selected.

Taking a moment to observe and experience life unplanned, unscripted, and unafraid is worth 'being late'; it is living life.

Taking a moment to observe and experience life unplanned, unscripted, and unafraid is worth ‘being late’; it is living life.

…And I’m okay with enjoying this feeling and not analyzing it more.

Progress, moment by moment, day by day, like a flower blooming its own way, in its own time.

Progress, moment by moment, day by day, like a flower blooming its own way, in its own time.

I enjoy planning things. Learning the how-to of not over-investing in a specific outcome releases planning from its future job assignment of ‘driving stress’, too, and leaves the fun of planning with the planning, allowing anticipation to be a lovely enjoyable experience all its own. I enjoy anticipation. I dislike disappointment. The only thing connecting those experiences is attachment to an outcome. Learning to plan without attachment to the outcome is an interesting exercise in mindfully balancing past experience with potential experience, and preparing for what could be, while enjoying what is. I’m obviously still thinking about attachment, and clinging, and how much I lose when I let go of ‘now’ and immerse myself in what isn’t, more than what is. I’d like to become very skilled at letting go of attachment, and still loving, still feeling, still exploring compassion and joy.

Each ‘now’ moment is so incredibly precious.

Another work week begins. The weekend was not without its highs and lows. I could be unhappy that I didn’t go hiking yesterday… or delighted that I had such a lovely quiet Sunday and got so much done, and enjoyed my leisure time in other ways; the Farmer’s Market, a pleasant walk, Chinese food for dinner.  I could be blue because of some mistake or misstep or other, and bemoan my essential humanity and how much work it takes to do my best and be this amazing woman I am becoming…or I can celebrate the being and becoming of this amazing woman I am growing to be over time, and the unspeakable joy life sometimes brings me now. I could fuss frustratedly that the moments of love and connection with my partners are so few some days…or be grateful to love so well, and be loved in return, when so many don’t have that opportunity at all, through circumstances, or the choices they make. Perspective matters.

So many opportunities, so many decision-making moments, making choice about time can be very limiting.

So many opportunities, so many decision-making moments, making choice about time can be very limiting. Today is a good day to choose ‘now’.

Today is a good day for a fresh start. Today is a good day for choices that meet my needs over time. Today is a good day for acceptance, compassion, and kindness. Today, the most important thing is right now.

 

I don’t know what it is about brunch. Maybe that the menu is sometimes delightfully unexpected? Possibly it has more to do with the profoundly leisure characteristic of ‘brunch’. No one has ‘a quick brunch on the way to work’. Having brunch is about taking time, slowing down, and stepping away from the routine sorts of meals of the work week. I rarely see signs advertising weekday brunches; brunch is for days off. I like leisure. Brunch is also not a solo meal. I may have a mid-morning or noontime meal composed of foods that are both ‘breakfast’ and ‘lunch’ – but if I am doing so alone, I don’t call it brunch. (I call it scrounging for something to eat, most likely. lol)  Brunch is probably my favorite meal if I had to choose one…or perhaps tea…or ‘tiffin‘, but that last is simply because I enjoy how it feels to say the word. lol

Many years ago, a work colleague (who would prove to be a most loyal friend of many years) left our shared employment. My reaction surprised me at the time; I felt insecure about losing touch with him. Deeply so. I didn’t really ‘get it’, and the medications I was on at the time weren’t helping me with that. I did what made sense at the time. I invited him out to brunch the following Sunday. For a long time – years? – we continued to ‘do brunch’, now and then even ‘breakfast’ (generally earlier, on the way to somewhere), regularly and frequently. We tried out brunch spots all over the area. I look back on those experiences as being some of the best times of those years. Loyal friends are rare enough, add that to a routine of a leisurely and excellent brunch and I find that any time I recall it, that experience is an experience I want to repeat.

I was just on the edge of writing a lot of words about emotions, friends, investing in what I enjoy most…sometimes it is enough just to do. Life is about verbs and choices.

Today is a good day for brunch with a friend.

It's about the conversation more than the coffee.

It’s about the conversation more than the coffee.

Good morning – or afternoon, or evening – I hope that the moment you find yourself in feels comfortable and that you are content, if not generally, then at least right now.

Yes, you.

This post is for you. Each of you, all of you, any of you. Because you are reading these words. Because you stopped by just this once to check out this blog, for some reason, today. Because you’ve bookmarked it and read it often. Because you clicked a link to my blog from a comment on some adult blog, figuring on more of the same, and instead of being disappointed, you’ve come back a few times to read more. Because you don’t even know me, and find value in sharing some piece of my experience anyway. Because you do know me, you know me well, and you quietly read each post, rarely speaking up to make a comment or observe a detail, or offer a helpful suggestion, understanding perhaps that there is a fundamental loss of privacy happening, between you and me, when I write and you read – and knowing me, you understand how vulnerable and raw that may actually feel. Because you know me, not as well as you’d like, and you remain curious and fascinated, and enjoy the vicarious ‘insider information’ that occasionally feels like you know so much more about me now.  Because you’re a troll or a spammer, out there doing your thing, and some one time, some one post, actually touched you – you’re still spamming me, but you made one pleasant, sincere, heartfelt comment that even had good spelling and grammar.  Because you are you, and you are reading these words, long after some little joke of mine has begun to wear thin, or some metaphor has finally be over-worked to death.

This post is for you. Thank you. That’s really it, just a thank you.  I kept a journal for years, you see, and although I write nearly compulsively, and often find I ‘don’t get it’ until I see something in words, I found myself drowning myself in the very words I love so much, and writing endlessly the damaging ruminations and negative thoughts I was stuck on. I wrote volumes. This is the simplest truth, I know; they are stored in a bin or two in the attic, save for some small number that have more meaning, or capture an important time of change. Those sit unread on a bookshelf by my bed, in case I need to ‘check myself’ about who I was then, or what events seemed to be about at that time.  As 2012 drew to a close, and I approached my 50th birthday, my whole experience sort of crashed in around me and I found myself mired in pain and doubt and regret, and frankly unsure that continuing to live had any value at all.  I didn’t really discuss that detail of my experience with anyone. I tried once or twice, and it was quickly apparent that I wasn’t getting anywhere, or making a connection.

Writing in my journal wasn’t helping me, anymore, and I was no longer sure my writing had value of any kind, or any purpose, or have anything of interest to any person. I was quietly planning to ‘check out’. Then… life went from bad to worse. It was all pretty subjective – the factual details of my experience of everyday life just weren’t particularly ‘bad’, not even a little. It was my emotional experience, my personal, subjective, internal experience of ‘self’ that had finally just caved in.  I started this blog then, aware at the time that these could be the last things I had to say, to share, and for me that meant that doing my best to make them ‘worthy’ and genuine and real was important to me.  This blog ended up being a big piece of ‘saving my life’.

This is no longer a salvage operation. I’m building on the best of who I am learning to be, and taking those tools, and experiences, and each day working to be just a bit better at being me, at being the best of me, that I can. You’re part of that. Thank you.

Why am I saying ‘thank you’ today? Because you thanked me first.  Yesterday was an interesting day for that.  I got a flurry of emails about a particular post, and it happens now and then, and this particular flurry of grateful and appreciate words felt so warm and nurturing – not saying thank you would be rude.  Thank you for caring how I am doing. Thank you for finding value in my observations on life, and my commentary on my challenges, my growth, my progress, and life’s curriculum.  It’s an amazing journey, and it matters to me that we’re sharing it.

I hope your today is a success – however you define it – and that your choices are wise and support your needs over time. I hope today the challenges seem less challenging and more rewarding, and that you take a chance on you. You deserve the best you have to offer. You matter.  Thank you for reading my blog.

Like a potted rose slaking its thirst on a gentle rain; I'm grateful.

Like a potted rose slaking its thirst on a gentle rain; I’m grateful.