Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

…Or is it? What is ‘enough’, after all? Is there some objective ‘enough-ness’ that any of us could recognize? Is ‘enough’ entirely subjective, to the point of being ever-changing with mood and circumstance? ‘Enough’ feels so good when I have it – or recognize that I do. When do I not have ‘enough’? Is that, too, subjective or state-dependent?

One moment of 'enough'.

One moment of ‘enough’.

In any give life, or on any given day, during any particular moment, is my ‘enough’ recognizably enough to someone else? Would someone outside my experience look at my idea of ‘enough’ and find it to be ‘too much’ or perhaps somehow lacking? I have the idea that ‘sufficiency’ is about ‘enough’, and that ‘contentment’ or ‘satisfaction’ are the feeling of it; I observe that I don’t always enjoy those experiences together, which strikes me as strange. This is a puzzle of a relatively subtle sort that leaves me wondering whether it is a lack of experience and understanding, a lack of education, or my injury weighing in on my experience of living by limiting what I am presently able to understand. I observe, on a tangent, that I no longer feel a sense of finality in my lack of understanding, quite the contrary, I feel rather as if nothing is out of reach – it’s only a matter of time, training, effort, will… my brain may be a bit shop worn, and damaged, but it’s pretty awesome nonetheless.

Sufficiency, and the contemplation of sufficiency – living a sense of ‘enough’ in a modest and comfortable way – has been a big deal for me this year. One more step. Yesterday, as my heart continued to trudge along my wreckage-littered journey through life, I had a moment of recognition. I realized that although I’ve come a long way on the ‘taking care of me’ path, there’s more. (Of course, there’s more.) I considered the term ’emotional self-sufficiency’ but could not recall if I had read it elsewhere (I read a lot), or if I simply ‘made it up’. I Googled it. Some of the articles were quite interesting, and apparently it is a thing. lol.  I like the sound of emotional self-sufficiency as a term, and I could easily understand why several articles caution that emotional self-sufficiency, in and of itself isn’t,a goodness or a challenge; it is a characteristic. It’s a characteristic I think could serve me well – and not to isolate me from others, but to nurture myself and my deepest emotional needs first from within – hopefully resulting in a level of emotional well-being that has the result of making it easier to live around others, respect their needs, and enjoy emotionally reciprocal healthy relationships based on the desire to be engaged, rather than the urgent need for some particular emotional experience. Less about demands, more about decisions.

Lacking much emotional self-sufficiency, but having made important gains in mindfulness, perspective, quality of self-care, emotional resilience, and emotional intimacy, I sometimes find I am incredibly easy to hurt, and the TBI leaves me stunningly open to expressing it. Having experienced a lot of trauma, and spending the time I currently do working through that chaos and damage, the result is sometimes an uncomfortable fit, socially. People who love me don’t want me to hurt.  Hurting is part of my experience right now, more often than I’d like.  (I’m dragging around a lot of anger, too, and if the tears are an uncomfortable fit socially, you gotta see the anger; epic doesn’t begin to describe it.) Perhaps necessary, perhaps understandable, perhaps even ‘long overdue’… but yeah, very very uncomfortable to be around.  Will improving my emotional self-sufficiency also improve how comfortable I am with strong emotions, or my ability to comfortably nurture and sooth myself, unassisted?

Is this too much for a Tuesday morning?

Life's lessons are not always obvious; the path is not always paved.

Life’s lessons are not always obvious; the path is not always paved.

This morning begins with contentment, and a good espresso. Where will the day end? Yesterday began with challenges and moody fussing with old hurts and current frustrations, and ended with connection and love. I am learning to be open to affection, beauty, and wonder, regardless of the now I find myself standing in. Still a student, still asking questions. The soothing trickling sounds of the aquarium in the background, the smooth warmth of my espresso, the soft light of a new day unfolding illuminating the room, all reminders that ‘enough’ is a very personal thing. I suspect that this, too, is more about what is within, that what I am without.

Today is a good day to push ‘more’ off its pedestal and embrace ‘enough’. Today is a good day to share the best of who I am, and appreciate the best offered to the world by others. Today is a good day to treat myself well, and set clear boundaries that meet my needs over time. Today is a good day to remember that all that bullshit ‘out there’ isn’t personal; it’s just bullshit, and it’s ‘out there’. Today is a good day to care, because I need caring, and to love because I enjoy being loved. Today is a good day to be the change I wish to see in the world.

A small moment for joy and sufficiency, and to appreciate what matters most, and taking time to find answers in metaphors.

A small moment for joy and sufficiency, and to appreciate what matters most, and taking time to find answers in metaphors.

This morning I woke slowly, a second time, having returned to sleep upon waking much early during the wee hours. I woke feeling pretty good, and pretty balanced. I still do, which is nice;  not everyone in my immediate vicinity is similarly fortunate. We are each having our own experience. Interestingly, so far this morning I am feeling content to enjoy mine without struggling in the face of experiences other people are not enjoying so much. It goes further, this morning; I have a certain flippant desire to say “That’s all you’ve got, Universe? You hit like a bitch.”

I experience the small emotional triumph alongside my immediate irritation with myself that I still use idioms that make light of the experiences of women, cast us in a bad light, frame us up as weak, ineffective, powerless, unskilled or unworthy.  It’s not okay.  I am struggling with language, with my emotional dictionary, with the assumptions I make, with hurtful old programming, and with ancient biases still lurking in the shadows that I have yet to address. This is a very human experience.

It’s been an emotionally complicated weekend. Unmet needs outnumber needs that are met. Moments of discord and pain have been far more frequent that moments of great contentment or joy. Small successes often haven’t been the successes I most desired – or needed.  Small failures have felt larger than life.  I’ve been in great emotional pain much of the time since my last therapy appointment. Mindfulness doesn’t mute that, in fact I seem to feel my feelings far more acutely but with far greater self-compassion and a willingness to accept that emotions are simply that: emotions. They have no greater weight or import than I grant them. I am learning to make peace with my emotional experience, and to be more comfortable with my feelings, and less willing to compromise the integrity of my experience. I am learning to make room in my own heart to be who I am. As I said, it’s a very human experience.

Today is a good day to be open to what the moment may offer.

Today is a good day to be open to what the moment may offer.

Today I’ll keep to myself, and savor the small delights a sunny Sunday has to offer. It’s enough.

Well… here I am. Menopause Day. According to the outstanding minds at Wikipedia, this moment is really ‘one year into post menopause’…but one can’t claim it until they’ve reached it, because how else can that precious ‘last period’ be identified as ‘last’ in the first place? I remain frustrated with the lack of scientific precision in women’s health, and laugh grimly at the statements about perimenopause being ‘6-10 years’… that’s a pretty broad range, and actually, in my own life experience of perimenopause, I found the experience, and period of my life (lol) actually lasted an emotionally brutal 14+ years. It sucked and I’m glad it’s over. Only…it isn’t, really, is it? I’m still female, and my hormones will likely be variable for many more years – hell, I may manage another period, no doubt completely unexpected, and poorly timed, at some future point.

Still. I’ll take the small comfort offered that I officially don’t have to argue with even one more doctor, ever, about whether or not I am ‘menopausal’.  I have finally passed their primitive diagnostic test. lol

A gateway on a journey, a window to another perspective.

A gateway on a journey, a window to another perspective.

I refuse to hide from this experience, or pretend it doesn’t matter to me, or to be ashamed in any way of this completely natural bit of biological change of purpose in life. Today I celebrate with a handful of the women who are my friends who could make it down to the Chinese Garden for tea today; we’ll share a moment and celebrate being women.

A lovely spot for a cup of tea.

A lovely spot for a cup of tea.

It would be so nice if this afternoon out for tea was the last stop ever on the train through Hormone Hell, but that seems a lot to ask of a cup of tea.

Today is a good day to celebrate being a woman. Today is a good day to change the world.

I don’t do this sort of thing often, but when a dear friend, and a writer whose work I greatly enjoy, asks me to participate in something that could be fun, new, interesting, or just because they are dear to me and asked, I at least consider it… So here I am, at 4:00 am on a sleepless Monday morning, facing the questions put to me.  Many thanks for considering me, Oz. I am humbled to be thought interesting enough to share. 🙂

1. What am I working on?

Well, honestly, I’m ‘working on’ me. That’s really it. I write because the written word is a great way to communicate more slowly, more precisely, more poetically, and more lastingly than speaking aloud. The fundamentals of that idea don’t really hold up to much scrutiny these days, I suppose; there’s always video. Images, too, are lasting and rich with symbols and metaphors. I also take a lot of pictures.

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I’m not sure what genre I’m in, and I don’t actually spend much time contemplating that, or related writer sorts of subjects, but I doubt my work differs significantly from the work of writers who are writing about similar things, aside from the details of who we each are, and the journey we are each on: mindfulness, meditation, healing, growth, compassion (and much, much more!). I doubt I’ve ever scratched the surface of ‘writers in my genre’ – there must be millions of people pouring their hearts into blog posts, doing their own best with growth, change and circumstances.  There must be differences to discuss, and commonalities, but they are beyond me without significant research.

One potential difference, is the lack of self-restraint regarding wordplay, I suppose. I often work oddball puns, references, weird humor, and bits of grammatical fun into my writing, and titles, and image captions tend to be a coherent and intentional part of the work, related to the body of the post very closely, although often tangentially, or from another perspective.  I have no particular concern that anyone else will ‘get it’… the bits of wordplay are more like easter eggs in code; a bit of fun for those that catch them.

3. Why do I write what I do?

Because I have to. Well, that sounds sort of dramatic, and I don’t mean it to… but what else would I write besides what I do write? That’s the not question, though, is it? Why do I write this blog from a positive perspective instead of drowning in bitterness and cynicism, perhaps? Or why don’t I write more graphically about sex, love, and romance than I do? Or even why am I so slim on pertinent details about people who may be mentioned in passing or by implication, but never quite allowed to develop as characters in a more full way?  It could be easier to break it down like that.  I write in the largely very positive way I do because it hurts to be foundering in a sea of pain, even emotional pain, and negativity is the last place I look for hope or solace; I don’t want to hurt anymore.  I don’t write more graphically about sex and love simply because I’ve used up all those words, there’s nothing more to say about the fun bits, the plumbing, the gymnastics, the heart and soul of it… this blog started at a different point in my life. There’s plenty to say about love and sex and romance in the world. My few words on that topic wouldn’t really be a value-add, and it could risk dragging the innocent reader through some of the worst of my chaos and damage. It seems unnecessary.  I also have a pretty firm personal mandate that this particular blog will remain as me-centric as it can be; my journey, my challenge, my life, my progress… it is, after all, ‘all about me’ – at least right here, for a few minutes, on a mostly daily basis, and I like to respect the privacy of friends and loved ones as much as possible. This blog is part of a healing process for me, a map of my journey, a log, and an ongoing reminder how human I am, and how commonplace my struggles are, it is not a place to lash out at others, or to be hurtful.  I’m still human; if I need to ‘just vent’ I save it for a private encrypted journal, a sort of practice range for words that are ‘like bullets’, and often find myself deleting the worst of who I am, which is a very nice feature of technology.

4. How does my writing process work?

It’s pretty simple; I’m having a conversation with myself, of sorts, contemplating what I am learning, what my understanding of the world is, and the meaning in my life and my choices.

I often start a blog post as a byproduct of other conversations, or reading and responding to something someone else wrote. When I am walking from one place to another, I write in my head, though generally poetry.  Those bits of internal dialogue often make it onto the page, here. My writing process is a tidied up look at the inner workings of my mind, and little more. I edit on the fly, and reliably fail to catch at least one significant spelling mistake when I hit ‘publish’. I have hungered to say just one particular thing in a particular way to the point of trashing thousands of written words that weren’t quite right, to try again. And again. Again. One more time, perhaps… and other mornings I sit down and bang out words that simply fall from brain to keyboard, thousands at a time without error or rewrite. Either way, it’s still that ‘conversation with myself’… or with a silent someone else, unstated, unidentified, and more important than mere identity. I write between 1000 and 5000 words a day, pretty easily. I’d write more, longer, more often…but people start noticing my lack of presence. lol

One of my daily challenges is around the simple practical missteps I struggle with because of my TBI.  As a result of that bit of baggage, I’m unsure who will be ‘up next’… I was not timely with my invitation. 😦 Having potentially let you down, I suggest that whether she chooses to participate in the My Writing Process Blog Tour, the blog of wisejourney is very worth exploring.  Certainly there have been many days when not one more step would be easily taken without her gentle words and lovely images to buoy my spirit on a difficult morning, and her blog was one of the first I began to read when I started down the path of real healing, self-compassion, and finding contentment in life.  I’m very hopeful that on June 16th, she’ll be ‘up next’.

It wouldn’t be a bad spot for a picture…

The beautiful thing about writers, is that although we are each on our own journey, and no one really has a map, sometimes the words of others function as a bit of pavement, a comfortable path for a portion of the journey.

The beautiful thing about writers, is that although we are each on our own journey, and no one really has a map, sometimes the words of others function as a bit of pavement, a comfortable path for a portion of the journey.

Today is a good day for honest words. Today is a good day to remember we are each having our own experience. Today is a good day for good choices. Today is a good day for love.

This morning I am sitting here in the quiet of dawn, and contemplating this sweet chill moment of satisfaction and contentment; I want for nothing. At least right now, this very specific and limited immediate moment of now, I am not experiencing desire, hunger, craving, yearning, or any urgent sense of need. It’s lovely.

It got me thinking, though, of recent tragedies, and lives lost to the dark side of desire: entitlement, jealousy, possessiveness, attachment, and yes, craving, yearning, wanting, ‘needing’ – those urgent hard-to-resist feelings that say there is something amiss in the world when some object, experience, or person is not available for ownership, possession, or purchase. I doubt it is the desire itself that is the challenge. My own experiences tell me that the difficulties (and horrors) develop when a person is overcome by the conviction that some outcome is their due. Expectation. Demand. Entitlement.

I’ve struggled with it, too. It’s very human to want something or someone so badly that it takes over reason and good sense, destroys compassion and consideration, impedes respect, or seems to justify bad behavior; it isn’t appropriate to take action on those feelings in any way that encroaches on someone else’s will, personal liberty, control of their own body, sense of safety, or freedom to withhold consent.  Rapists are a problem, and the lack of consent is the defining thing, and even in the face of the obviousness of it there manages to be discussion about it, as if there is some permissible amount of non-consensual conduct that is acceptable. (There isn’t.)

It took me a long time to get here. I have been wading through a lot of wreckage, and looking back on me over the years, I owe a number of very good-hearted people apologies of one sort or another; damage doesn’t truly excuse being a shitty human being.  I have struggled with myself, and I still do, figuring out the consent piece, for myself, as I find my way in the world.   I wasn’t exactly brought up to respect my own boundaries, to expect that my consent – or lack of it – would be respected, or even to say no and mean it in clear, explicit terms.  The result? I sometimes didn’t treat other rape survivors well; I treated them as badly as I treated myself. I didn’t understand the nature of consent, or that the word ‘no’ had any power to change events. My own experiences didn’t support that. I didn’t understand it is my right to choose, to say yes or no, and to have those choices be accepted and honored.  I spent years as an unwitting accomplice to rape culture; the survivor-apologist, so busy being ‘accountable for my own actions’ that I was willing to excuse my violation.  Getting past that and building a healthy understanding of the sanctity of my consent has been a complicated battle.

[Are you listening? It isn’t too late to show yourself compassion, to respect your own pain, to stand on your values and say ‘no’. It’s okay, too, to feel shame at the damage you’ve done as a tool in your own destruction – and to choose another path, now. You said it would matter if just one woman, one survivor, would say “I’m sorry I made things worse.” I’m here. I’m one woman. I’m sorry.]

So… here we all are… talking about the issues more openly, more insistently, more frankly. That, in spite of the pain and the circumstances, is an important step forward.

In the midst of pain, there is still beauty.

In the midst of pain, there is still beauty.

Today is a good day to talk about difficult subjects honestly. Today is a good day to be compassionate and concerned. Today is a good day to respect myself, and others. Today is a good day to change the world.