Work In Progress

People say, (and by people I mean my therapists, my psychiatrist, my psychologist, my friends, my family......) that I should not care about what other people think. The way they say it, makes me feels like I am stupid; like it should be easy.  I have been off work for over a year and just recently, I am feeling like I am getting to know my true self, and I am incredibly vulnerable. I am raw and open when I do Reiki. Subtle voices, insidious in my ear, whisper quietly, "Who do you think you are doing Reiki?"  I am raw and open when I go to the women's group where we cook and eat and then do an hour meditation.   I reached out to them.  I needed to belong to something.  I needed people.  No, that is not right.  I needed sisterhood.  I used to pride myself on needing no one and wore it like a badge of honor.  Again the voices hiss, "Who do you think you are coming here? What mak...

This morning, I am remembering a day in March, when my oldest scheduled a tour of  a potential university to attend and The Spouse was unable to take him.  It was a formal orientation with presentations and a meet and greet with faculty so it would be important to his decision.   I was newly finished my 8 week adult day treatment program and instead of feeling refreshed and enlightened, I was battered and bruised, brutally raw and vulnerable.  Don't get me wrong, there was never a more supportive environment -- full of information, handouts and opportunities to share, be heard, and feel loved. But here I was, taking my first few wobbly steps on the high wire and I felt messy and uncoordinated; like I was struggling to hear my more enlightened voice over the ear piercing alarm going off in my head.   Days leading up to going, I carefully juggled every mind trap we had explored:  what if we get lost and never make it there? (catastrophizing) All ...

When I look up from my computer, I am greeted with the graduation smile photos of the boys.  The Youngest is dressed for SK, The Middle for grade 8 and The Oldest for both grade 8 and high school.  On the same sideboard is the digital photo frame, that flashes the more casual moments of a few years ago.    Often, as I try to fit life into my viewfinder, I get told to put the camera away and enjoy the moment.  I get it, I do and I try.  I am the photographer of the family so if I don't take the pictures, no one will.    Smartphones now have such fabulous resolution, it seems silly to take my giant camera bag places.  I can upload immediately, save, share and Ka-POW.   But what I am enjoying most this morning, is looking at the smiling faces of the boys (the oldest smiled for his grad photos as his gift to me---grade 9-12---he looks like he will beat you to death with his indifference), and the rotating pictures of our...

Yesterday in class, the therapists asked if there was anyone there who felt like  they had an excessive need for control.  My hand shot up---stayed up---and started to wave around.  It was a bit like it wasn't attached to me.  I didn't even look up from what I was doing.  I expected that there were a few of us since perfectionism and control go hand in hand, and we were all self-confessed perfectionistas to some degree.   Oddly enough (read...embarrassingly enough), when I looked up, it was just me.  (Wacky, inflatable, arm waving, tube man!  Wacky, inflatable, arm waving, tube man!)  "That's it?  Just one person?  Okay--tell us what it is like, what you think about as someone who wants that much control." It poured out of me:      Well, I plan things. So like, I plan my day, dinner, what I have to do, what needs to get done.  I am not a list person---I know ...

I recently saw my psychiatrist.    For the first time, I told her      I          was                  feeling                         better. It was true.   I couldn't tell her why or how or what happened.  It just seemed like I had a good day. And then another. Then another.  I told her like it was a secret.  I didn't want to jinx it. She was the first person I had told.    I can still catch glimpses of the darkness if I turn fast enough.    But it has no hold on me.  It moves over and through me.   I guess a few weeks ago, I had a good day.  I think it started with my crown.  I had heard horror stories about...

I am back at the Leaning Tower of Pisa that started this whole blog over 80 posts ago (and yes that is me in the foreground).   Back then, I was an observer; intellectualizing the Tower and the path in my head as I took a few steps in the general direction to  plant a shovel here and there, probing the soil for a good point of entry.  Work in Progress signs were hung and after a few weeks the digging began.  And like any project--there were delays--and unexpected circumstances which allowed me to emerge from the musty subterranean tunnel to gulp down the fresh air I didn't know I was missing while searching for the broken part in me that made me so off balance.    But it's been months and months and I am far below the Tower, digging; the cool dampness compressing my lungs; words and thoughts  absorbed by the loamy damp earth; each shovel exposing more and more of my damaged spirit.  It has been heart a...

With all the things going on right now I am feeling a little lost, and so will return to the Guideposts of "The Gifts of Imperfection" to help me focus on my work. It is fitting that this guidepost is about letting go of the need for certainty.  Much like my "unbeknown to her" mentor Brene Brown....I like to be a logic and reason kind of gal....head over heart I would say.  But over the years I have also developed a healthy sense of intuition and faith --which is a key component of Wholehearted living. Brown's research has led her to the conclusion that intuition is not just a belief in something independent from any logic or reasoning, instead, intuition is in play when we use our database of memories and experiences from which we can measure and asses new situation to get a "feeling" about what we have observed.  We input the data--and the output may be ---I need more data,  which I recognize as the feeling of not being sure...

Most mornings, when I step outside with my coffee, I deposit my laptop on the table and from the far corner of the deck, survey what I can see of the gardens.   We have lived here for five years and this is the first year I did not buy any plants to add to the garden.   It is full and lush and green. The morning glories I started from the seeds of the single morning glory plant I received for Mother Day last year are climbing everywhere.   I am in the bubble of my small world.   I love it. Yesterday morning, the bird feeder had been empty of sunflower seeds, so I filled it up and sat down to write. The birds are used to me now, so come quiet close.   Harried sparrows fling seeds onto Sadie as she sleeps on the deck below, oblivious.   I opened my laptop and turned it on and sat back to wait for it to boot up. I frowned, noting a conspicuous gap in my garden.     I went to investigate. My small world perfect bubble of creative s...