Archives for posts with tag: love me do

I’ve started this one twice three four times now. I had a difficult night, and I haven’t been successful, yet, at putting it behind me. I must have awakened weeping a million times, once I fell into a restless troubled sleep, and the night lasted just about forever until I woke, about 5 minutes before the alarm would have gone off. Tears streamed down my face when I rose, and as I selected my clothes for the day, and while I stood in the shower. I don’t know that there is much to say ‘about’ it. I’m feeling the weight of years, and changes, and the slow, inconvenient process of aging in the context of relationships with much younger people.

Winter. It's a metaphor.

Winter. It’s a metaphor.

Over the past few days there have been highs and lows, the everyday, the sublime – in short, a very human experience. Why is this one, today, so hard? Why do I feel like ‘giving up’, right now? What is it, exactly, that I would give up on? I guess I should admit that it’s a pretty everyday, mundane sort of complicated human experience that is probably pretty commonplace – however alone I feel right now – and bitching about it (or crying) doesn’t actually help. It’s “The Sex Thing”, you see. Yeah – pretty personal stuff. Hard to write about, for me, with comfort and clarity…too many of my eggs are in this basket, metaphorically speaking; it’s caused me difficulties for a long long time. I love sex, and generally want more of it than any relationship provides. My sense of self is pretty entwined with my sexuality, too, which complicates some things, at this point in my life. My body – and mind – are going through some changes with this whole menopause thing, and sensations and emotions feel different, my body responds differently to touch, my chemistry has changed/is changing. I’d love to say ‘only the parts of my experience that are affected by my reproductive hormones are being affected by these changes’ – but typing the words immediately becomes comedy in my head. I’m a female human primate – what part of my experience isn’t affected by my reproductive hormones in some way? I don’t suppose I’m making things any easier to be in therapy for issues that developed around sexual trauma, domestic violence, and identity, while I am wrapping things up as a reproductively viable adult, either. The challenges and frustrations just keep piling up, until… I spend an eternal night weeping in my sleep, and wake feeling…

I feel like my heart is breaking.

There's often something beyond the obvious.

There’s often something beyond the obvious.

So. I woke early, and without difficulty, which is a nice enough start to the return to work for the new year. 2015. My traveling partner was sweet to me this morning, making me a tasty latte while I was in the shower. Detail by detail, I pick up the threads of my work routine. I’ve no enthusiasm for it, this morning. It seems likely to be a day I spend in the ladies’ room between meetings, splashing cold water on my face, and hoping to drag myself through it all with some measure of grace, and acceptance. On top of tears, I hurt. I’m not surprised – crying in ones sleep must be quite stressful, which would likely result in tense muscles, weird sleeping postures, and this wicked headache I woke with. I still manage to take care of me; medications taken on time, drinking plenty of water, choosing a morning yoga sequence with calming postures, and meditating. The water will matter in the most obvious ways, and it is the thing I would be most likely to overlook, so remembering to drink more water is a win, on a difficult Monday morning.

The first work day of the new year, and I’m feeling irritable and self-involved. I’m also committed to sorting it out and finding my way to a better place. Even in the midst of tears on a moody Monday morning, I recognize life’s joy and pleasure is within reach – if only I can raise my hand to reach for it. There’s will involved. Choices. Verbs. A commitment to change and to action is needed, and it’s not always easy.

I don’t do ‘resolutions’ to celebrate the new year…but I have goals, intentions, commitments – like anyone might. It’s a season of change, and hopefully of growth, too. In 2015, I am pointing will, choices, and action in the direction of being simply the most genuine person I have within me, while also learning to be the most kind, compassionate, reasonable, considerate, loving, and good-natured genuine person I have the ability to be…and since change is, and I am embracing it, it’s my hope that as the year progresses I can be more of those things over time. Which one of those qualities is most important to me? Being genuine. The rest will come with time – because the people in my life really matter to me, and I would treat them well. I will listen more, talk less, and make an active effort to make my default setting to take an agreeable tone in negotiations, and to live well, and pleasantly. From my perspective within myself, I don’t do ‘mean’, and I don’t do ‘bitchy’… but I know that isn’t necessarily the experience everyone has with me. I am hoping to reach a point as a being when I am a woman of whom others might say, themselves, in a firm way with conviction, “Oh, she doesn’t do mean, and she doesn’t do bitchy.”  That’s not intended to communicate that the opinions of others matter to me more than my own evaluation of self, not even a little bit, but how we treat others isn’t actually defined by our intent, or what we meant to do/say – it is 100% and entirely about how what we do/say is received by others. That was hard to come to terms with, initially, but it has been an important understanding to have.  (If you find yourself constantly suggesting, or commenting, that people should ‘grow a thicker skin’, or somehow be less sensitive, you may want to check yourself – could be you aren’t the person you’d like most to be.) I put a lot of thought and words around this one, because I value being treated well, and I want to treat others well, too – because it feels good to be treated well, and kindness, compassion, and taking a minute to let the other guy get a word in are basically free. They have great ROI.

I’m no longer weeping; my tears dried some moments ago. I feel calm. Resolute. Capable. Also wary. Cautious. Concerned. Uncertain. I also feel emotionally ‘cracked open’ and raw – being kind to myself today will be important; I can’t count on the world to be kind to me in my stead, and there’s much to do, and limited time for coaching others how to care for me – I’ve got to be prepared and able to do that for myself.

Walking a winter path.

Walking a winter path.

Today is a good day to get back to work – on me. Today is a good day to be kind to myself, and to the world. Today is a good day to make choices to be the best person I can, and to grow from the moments when I’m not so awesome, and improve on my personal best, each day. Today is a good day to notice that change is.

I was standing in the shower tonight, feeling the hot water slide over me, following gravity to the drain. My thoughts slipped gently through my awareness in much the same way, sensuous, ephemeral, fleeting. Thoughts about love, and loving, about life, and the ceaseless passage of time, and whether time actually affects love, really… It’s the sort of thing I think about in the shower, I admit it; I’m at an emotional place in life, and love is The Big Deal among emotions. I’m fortunate to experience the wonder of love, and specifically, adult, romantic, sexual love.

The shower filled with a fog of steam, and transported me to another moment, a distant time, and I paused there, recalling it with great clarity. It had been a nasty several days; I was exhausted, stressed out, and feeling bereft of comfort or affection from my then-partner. We’d been fighting like a seashore – the sort of experience where one issue is put to rest, and another surges, as if the emotions beneath the whole mess could not be defeated, solved, or turned for the better. Through out the difficult week, I’d worked, too. I came home, one evening later in the week, committed to ‘making things right’ and hopefully making amends and communicating support, comfort, and love enough to hold each other, maybe even have sex. Not only did the evening not turn out so pleasantly, it went from bad to worse and before dawn we were done. Finished. Over with.

Sometime out in the middle of all that, there were a couple of hours – after he stormed off, and before he returned – that I might have spent in solitary misery, if a dear friend hadn’t stopped by to check on me, worried and wanting to be sure I was okay. I clearly wasn’t ‘okay’, and he stayed awhile. It is this interlude, with that friend, on the described night, about which I was thinking in the shower, tonight. He had asked me a question, you see, and it is one that has stuck with me like an echo. I heard that question in my thoughts tonight, and let it rest there to be considered… “When was the last time you’ve been made love to?” he had asked me. I remember, also, being puzzled by the question at the time, how it could be relevant in the moment, what he might mean by asking it just then, and honestly – what he meant by it, at all. I replied with something to that effect, something more or less “How is that any different from any other sex?”  Even so many years later, I remember the compassionate and saddened look in his eyes – I remember that look, that expression, more clearly that most other details of that precise moment, though I know he responded to my reply. I remember my heart pounding, my mouth dry, and the sudden panic that there was some quality, or characteristic, or technique that lovers might be expecting that I just didn’t ‘get’… could they tell? Is it a character flaw? We probably talked longer, and knowing him as I do, I know the transition from conversation to contact was natural; I only remember his eyes, his touch, and being in his arms. I remember the lovemaking that followed. I remember the connection, and the intimacy, and the puzzled laughter when we realized together that this magical few moments had been unexpectedly snatched from the middle of a break up… it seemed incongruous, possibly inappropriate – and such a relief to be held, cared for, comforted, and…something more, something I didn’t have words for.  We talked more; I felt stronger when he departed.  I felt loved.  The sex actually was different that evening… and that is what I was thinking about, in the shower. (Oh! Hey, not ‘those’ sorts of thoughts, just thoughts. lol)

"You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

Comedians often make jokes about the phrase ‘making love’, or the term ‘love-making’; it seems generally considered to be ‘verbal slight of hand’ – a convincing way of talking a woman into sex, or a way of thinking about sex that is ‘for women only’ in some way. Sex is sex, after all, isn’t it? I thought so, too, for a long long time. My thinking on the topic changed that evening. Love-making is perhaps Love’s best magic trick – it has the potential to literally create love between beings. Think that over – we can actually make love. Wow. Powerful. I stood there in the shower, wrapped in mist and warmth, pondering the nature of love… and trying to cleverly capture it in a succinct phrase or two, or some brief explanation of how it could be that way at all… (I watch way too much Science Show, apparently).

So…Really…What’s the deal with ‘making love’? How is it different from ‘sex’, if it is, at all? I gave the matter a great deal of consideration, comparing and contrasting my own experiences, thinking over conversations with past lovers, and things I read in studies of various sorts. I could only identify [in the shower, no notes or references] one characteristic, in the context of my own limited – and highly subjective – experience with such things, that differs between sex and ‘love-making’ (which doesn’t require love to exist in advance, but can result in love as an outcome); it’s something to do with connection, intimacy, awareness…mindfulness. (It’s in the way we touch, but not the technique, and it is the level of awareness of each other, but not a particular act, or script, and it is that we matter to each other, in the moment.) Mindfulness? No kidding? Huh.

I’ve been struggling with understanding mindfulness in the context of sex for some time, and not finding my way with any ease (mostly just feeling ludicrously self-conscious, clumsy, and awkward)…and standing there in the shower thinking about love, a puzzled piece snapped into place quite neatly. There’s likely a lot more that could be said about this, and certainly I think about sex a great deal (being among the many people who generally would like to have much more of it than circumstances provide), but I’m so not an expert on intimacy, or love, or sex…I’m a student of love, as much as a student of life, and here too, I am more about questions than answers.  I feel like I’ve taken a step forward on an important part of my journey, though, or perhaps I’ve at least correctly oriented my map. I find myself feeling encouraged by this new understanding of how love-making differs from sex, and I’ll make a point of telling you why; if making love is about the mindful nature of a romantic connection, or moment… then it isn’t ‘about’ the physical act. If love-making isn’t actually ‘about’ sex, then the sometime lack of sex that life sometimes throws my way is no impediment to love, loving, or love-making! I don’t mind going without sex now and then, sometimes we must – but I don’t want to go without love. I feel a bit like I’ve been ‘doing it wrong’. There’s so much more to learn – starting with learning to make love – without sex.

It’s just past midnight…it’s a good night for love. I have a lot to learn, and this is a very exciting bit of curriculum with which to start the new year.

I woke earlier than I wanted to this morning. I fell asleep later than I wanted to last night. The sleep in between those points was filled with distressing dreams that were neither pleasant, nor were they nightmares; they were instead rich in content, symbolism, and implication without being over-obvious, as if daring me to overlook what matters most in the storm of surrealism. I woke feeling stiff and twisted, with a headache that sources down low in my spine, and makes it way to my skull, a dull unrelenting ache that pulsates when I walk. It’s about as dreadful as it sounds…only…I also woke warm and dry, safe from physical harm, indoor plumbing near at hand, and clean drinking water besides. I woke to birdsong outside my window and a not-too-very-rainy morning, and the sound of Dave Matthews Band on the stereo; my traveling partner already awake, playing chess quietly. I woke to an offer of a hot latte made just the way I like it. I woke to a warm hug, and a loving smile. This is my very human experience; it’s not good sometimes and bad other times as much as it is generally a mix of details of a variety of sorts.

Over the past two years I’ve read a lot of words written by several people whose working lives are spent studying the neuroscience of emotion and consciousness. I’ve read about negativity bias, and have a very elementary understanding that the most intense experiences tend to be most memorable, and that we tend to prioritize negative experiences more highly on an implicit level as a survival trait. Sounds damning, sometimes. I’ve also read more than a little bit about a number of practices that can be put to use to minimize or mitigate our negativity bias – resulting in a more implicitly pleasant experience overall; they do work, I’ve tried them. I’ve read about (and tried) practices for calming my storming heart when my PTSD catches me unawares, or I find myself so fatigued that I am unexpectedly volatile. I have explored practices that have tended to take me from a very negative, bitter, chronically irritated and dissatisfied state of being, to a day-to-day state sense of self that tends to be rather calm, generally content, and mostly pretty joyful.

I hope I’ve never led you to believe it’s “easy” every day. I work at ‘happy’ and ‘content’ by practicing an assortment of practices that tend to take me that direction over time. There are verbs involved. A commitment to wake up every day and actually practice them – because they are only effective when I do them. Thinking about them doesn’t quite change anything. When I consider moments over the past two years when things just didn’t seem quite as good as they could be – speaking just of my own experience, subjectively – it seems significant that there’s often some days preceding during which I was less committed than usual to some key practice or another. (That’s often how I figure out which ones are ‘key’ for me personally! lol) I don’t feel any shame over that, and I don’t feel like a failure. (I hear my traveling partner’s voice in my thoughts asking in a humorous tone “Well, how do you feel?”) I do feel very human; encouraged by the bits that go well, and a little beat down by the things that don’t.

Like it or not, there are verbs involved. Real actions to take, that require some small effort of will – a decision, a choice, an intention followed through on with a behavior of some appropriate sort. There’s just no getting out from under the action-reaction thing. The actions I choose aren’t always ideal; that’s the next challenge, isn’t it? Once my will is firmly in place, and I’ve made a choice, and taken an action, then experience unfolds the next lesson like a map, and I see where my choices take me. Then the whole thing again, for some other circumstance. Life. I am learning to be more aware of the puzzle pieces themselves in this jigsaw puzzle, rather than straining to see the finished picture while I piece it together.

It’s hard to overstate the value I’ve been finding in the ‘taking in the good’ exercises in Hardwiring Happiness. I haven’t ‘finished’ the book yet, because I keep re-reading it, and meditating on pieces of the content that are most relevant to my own experience. The practice, particularly, of lingering over pleasant moments for a considerable time rather than allowing them to be so fleeting, and also of refraining from lingering over unpleasant moments and treating them fairly casually after-the-fact, is a current favorite; it really does seem to be altering my implicit emotional bias for the better. I recently started a simple practice for improving my perspective with regard to positive and negative interactions, intended to prevent me from taking such things personally, particularly when they are not (and they mostly aren’t). It’s a simple reality-check; if I am feeling very picked on and emotionally beat down, I make a list of the specific complaints, or negative feedback, directed specifically to me, about my actions – no other negative content is listed, because it ‘isn’t about me’. The first time I did it, I quickly recognized that I’d only actually been offered a single point of negative feedback – and the rest of the discussion wasn’t about me at all, however negative it sounded in my thoughts. A negative bias functions on a lot of levels, it seems. This simple practice has seriously improved my relationships with other people; in one case I was able to recognize that new boundaries needed to be explicitly set in a work relationship, without things blowing up, when my list made it clear that 1. the relationship was profoundly negative and critical, and 2. there was a legitimate issue surfacing as a theme that could be easily addressed.

Illumination, or artificial lighting?

Illumination, or artificial lighting?

Meditation does take a commitment. Practicing is action. Choices are necessary. Verbs are involved. The results, for me, so far, are entirely worth it. I sure don’t have ‘the answers’. I am finding it worthwhile to consider some of the questions carefully. Will… that’s the thing, isn’t it? The Will to Practice. How do I build Will? Practicing.

Today is a good day to experience the birdsong, the music, the laughter, and the love. Today is a good day to change the world.

This morning I woke to the alarm, and not that happy about it. I slept decently, and woke in a more or less ‘normal’ amount of pain, certainly nothing extraordinary. My coffee is hot, and tasty, though I don’t feel especially eager to drink it. I feel pre-occupied and vaguely distracted, by nothing I can put my finger on. My morning yoga sequence eased my stiff joints, and improved my range of motion. It seems, in general, a pleasant autumn morning…why is there this sense of something unsettling lurking in the background? I’m learning to let those things go, rather than continue to troubleshoot a vague fleeting emotion until it becomes something problematic and real; the change is an improvement, generally speaking.

Hot flashes and night sweats? Yeah, still. It’s hard to call it ‘hormone hell’, though, it’s just not that big a deal anymore. Menopause, so far, has been worth reaching. There’s a lot less turmoil and volatility.

This morning lacks the chill serene harmony of a typical quiet morning; I feel restless and unfulfilled. I wonder briefly what that’s about, and recommit to ‘now’ and let it go. Autumn is a season of change, and I can accept that a certain amount of restless unease may be part of that experience. My heart is filled with maybe’s and ‘I wonders’, and I yearn for something new, or more, or different, or… something. Maybe I’m just yearning for sexual contact, or romantic intimacy; pain is an impediment to every day adult fun, and the physical side of love that is part of my everyday struggle for balance, contentment, and sufficiency. (Certainly, menopause has done nothing to quash my ludicrous natural drive.)

My appointment time was interesting yesterday, insightful, worthwhile, cooperative, collaborative, and useful. I didn’t cry all the way home – or feel like I wanted to (I often do after particularly difficult discussions with my therapist). The evening was lovely, chill, and quiet.

We interrupt this program...

We interrupt this program…

My traveling partner interrupts to inquire if I am “going to be writing all morning, then doing a couple of chores and just taking off?” this morning. I feel irritated by the back-handed approach, and struggle not to react in the moment to what is essentially a request to hang out and enjoy my company. I’d find that desire so beautiful and loving if he’d actually just said “I’d love to hang out this morning, will you make time for that?” or something sweeter and more direct. It is what it is. These words here? I value them, and I value this morning time with me. I also value love.

Today is a good day to set other things aside for the sake of love.

A lovely slow Sunday embraces me, all Love and leisure, and sweet moments of affection, comfort, and calm. I don’t have adjectives suitable to the purpose of sharing this day… So, finding my way to an old-time-y sweet shop, I linger, sipping a rather modest, unimpressive coffee, that very much wants to be an espresso beverage. I am daydreaming of romantic conversation over ice cream sundaes and holding hands on long walks…

image

Today has love’s name stamped on it, and my heart is serene. The day is mine, and I am love. 🙂