Posted in happiness, Life, love, mindfulness, Musings, People

These Little Things

little things

 

The other morning, I was driving Camryn to school. We were stopped at a light, and it was quiet in the car. Out of nowhere, Cam says “I love you, mom.”, and it was one of those moments…I don’t know how to explain it. My kids and I say “I love you” ALLLLLL the time, it’s not a rarity at all. But the way she said it, out of nowhere, in this quiet, thoughtful, sincere voice. As if she’d been studying me without me noticing, and she was speaking straight from her heart. I felt it differently, if that makes sense. “I love you, too!” I said, with tears stinging my eyes.

The next morning I got a text from my mom, out of the blue, at seven a.m. “I love you, Court.”

Two days in a row, I got hit with little love bombs, during a time when I needed them quite badly…and there is no way either my mom or my daughter could have known that. I’ve been struggling a lot, but I certainly try not to let my eight year old see it, and I hadn’t spoken much to my mom about it, so…it meant a lot to me.

Friday, the tall, dark, handsome man I’ve been seeing (although I’ve been seeing him so little lately that he’s almost a tall, dark, handsome stranger at this point) called me and asked “Are we still going out tonight?” (translation: “Are you going to cancel on me again?”) “Of course!” I replied (translation: “I am trying very hard to not let this funk I am in destroy our relationship, let’s pretend I am normal, okay?”) “Where would you like to eat?” he asked. I felt my soul wither. “Can you just figure it out?” I asked, “I can’t deal with thinking right now.” “Absolutely. I’ll take care of everything- don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.” (He actually said that. LOL.)

A few minutes later he texted that dinner was at seven, and he wouldn’t say where. He took me to a Greek restaurant owned by a friend of his, and he’d even ordered some flaming cheese dish ahead of time to cheer me up. We had the best table, right at the front window, and…I just really appreciated the effort he put in. He recognized that I needed a little extra kindness, and rather than be put out by that or turned off, he leaned in and did more, just because he felt like it.

It sounds like such a basic little thing, but it isn’t. It matters. All of these little things matter so much to me. I have been down and hurting lately, and we all know that people are not easy or fun when they are like that. After all, we have our own shit, right? It’s so easy to just get frustrated, or say “You know what? This is not what I signed up for- I have to think about my own peace of mind, sorry.” And in our current culture, this is not only acceptable, it’s kind of encouraged. But he didn’t do that at all. He went out of his way to make my life easier and happier, and I am so grateful for that. So touched by it. I am so grateful and touched by the loving gestures from my family, too.

So now, I’m paying attention, right? Yesterday, my daughter, who is at her dads for the weekend, came home so that I could wash her hair- she had a birthday party to go to, and she needed some help getting ready. I mentioned briefly that I’d forgotten to pick up my bubbly water (you know, the fancy carbonated La Croix that are all the rage now? Yeah, I have an embarrassing addiction to those.) when I was at the store. I washed her hair and got her ready to go, and about an hour later, I took a nap. I woke up hours later and thought I heard someone saying “Mom!”. I was confused, but I listened, and there it was again! I got up, and ran to the door in my underwear…and there she was, with two cans of La Croix she’d smuggled out of the party for me. “I thought you might want these.” She said. She’d made her dad bring her by just to give them to me. Like, how sweet is that?

At the beach yesterday, my dog, Lucy, lost her ball. She spent a good portion of our walk down the beach stalking other dog owners with balls, and I had to keep explaining that she’d lost hers, sorry, sorry, sorry. On the way back up the beach, I passed a man I’d had to apologize to earlier. “Hey! I found your ball!” He said. He’d picked up our dirty old tennis ball in hopes that we’d cross paths again. He didn’t have to do that, but he did, just to be nice. My dog was thrilled, and so was I.

Yesterday, I dropped off two big bins of sea glass to a friend of mine, for a friend of hers who needs it for a project she wants to start. This morning, I sent my brother a book from Amazon-it’s a really long, really involved fantasy series, and if he likes the first one, I’ll send him more. When I’m done with this, I’m going to write him a letter, too.

Because I’ve come to realize something over the past few days- big things are great! Grand gestures and big to-do’s are wonderful things. But it is the little things- the “I love you”s  for no reason, the extra effort, the small kindnesses…they are so powerful. When someone is feeling hopeless and spent, a small gesture is a really big deal. A kind word means everything. Unexpected sweetness is sort of a miracle. Being nice just to be nice, being thoughtful, doing a little more than you need to…it’s just everything.

Today, I ask that you pay attention to the kindness you see in the world around you, and that you receive any that comes your way with the gratitude which it deserves. I hope that you can find a way to do a little more for someone than they expect, so that you can feel your own burdens suddenly become lighter. These little things carry a startling amount of love inside of them, and you cannot really know how much that love might mean, how much it might matter, to someone.

Posted in adventure, family, kids, Life, love, motherhood, Musings, parenting, People, relationships, women

Motherhood

Motherhood- “the state or experience of having or raising a child”. That’s it, that’s the definition. And by that definition, any woman-nay, any person, can be a mother. But for those of us who have experienced it, it is so very much more. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for myself…it has been life altering, to say the least.

I bring this up today because today marks the 22nd anniversary of my life as a mother. That’s right, my daughter turns 22 today.  And on this day, the moment she arrived, a new part of me was also born.

While my daughter was a robust, long (slender, though- a lot like she is now!) and healthy child, born a full five days past her due date, my motherhood was premature. Unprepared for the world I was barreling into, unaware of what I had actually undertaken. I was a mother because I had a baby, but in most other ways I was woefully behind. While some women take up the mantle of motherhood with some innate grace, some primal knowing…I wore it more like an ill- fitting Halloween costume, a child masquerading as a grown-up. A little girl trying to walk in her mother’s high heels.

I am a late bloomer. I know this about myself now, but I did not realize it then- I didn’t understand anything back then, to be completely honest. I thought, of course, that I knew everything. Which made me the most dangerous kind of person there is- a confident idiot cannot be swayed or reasoned with.

The moment that glorious little girl was held up before my eyes, a feeling swept over me that I struggle to describe, that I still cannot name to this day. Time stopped, and I felt an awe sweep through me, a stunning, heart-stopping, “WHOA!”. I remember praying “Please, please let me remember this forever.” and I have. Not as clearly as I’d like, but clear enough. I must have known, somehow, that that was truly a once-in-a-lifetime moment- that no matter how many children I went on to have, this was the only first time that would come my way. I held onto it, and I am so glad I did.

Right behind that feeling came a terror unlike any I had known before. It was suddenly very clear to me that I now loved someone more than I loved myself, and I sensed that this was a very dangerous thing. I didn’t even know this little furry, brown person. Yet…in an instant, my heart was changed.

I was not good at the job. I have tried to find all kinds of different ways to explain it, but it comes down to that. I didn’t know. I didn’t understand the enormity of the responsibility before me. I didn’t grasp how precious and deserving a child is just by virtue of their existence. I didn’t know how careful and tender and loving I needed to be. I just…simply didn’t get it.

I won’t subject you, or myself, to the well-worn list of “Things I Royally Fucked Up”- quite frankly, this is supposed to be a blog post, not a novel. Besides which, those things are long past, now, and there is nothing I can do to change a minute of it. Forgiving myself, though, well…I’ve come to the conclusion that might never happen, not completely. And that’s okay. Some things are worth being sad about indefinitely.

Instead, let me tell you some of the good things. There was a night, about four months after she was born, that I remember so clearly. I woke up to her, snuffling and wiggling the way newborns do, in the bed beside me. It was about four in the morning, and the rain was pouring down outside the window of the dark room. I picked her up and lay her on my chest, her little downy head warm against my chin, my hands resting on her tiny back as it rose and fell in slumber, and I remember thinking “This is what it means to be content.” To this day, I cannot recall a more perfect moment than that.

I remember so many sunny days, driving in my car with the windows down, singing Dixie Chicks at the top of our lungs.

I remember sliding down the snowy sidewalks of Sparks, Nevada, in our knock-off brand Ugg Boots, early on a winter morning, just laughing and sliding, then laughing some more- until we were doubled up and our sides ached.

I remember endless nights snuggled up in bed, watching Animal Planet or Sponge Bob. I remember innumerable hugs and kisses, and the way that little girl soaked up affection like a sponge. It was the one thing I always had enough of to give, and the one thing she always took willingly.

Today she is 22, the same age I was when she was born, and I am…it is hard for me. It is hard for me to describe for you the heaviness my heart feels when I think back over those years. Not for me- I don’t care about me. For her. The things I should have given her, the things she doesn’t even know she missed, the chaos, the dysfunction. The things I stole from her that I cannot give back-that I didn’t even know I was taking. It’s a hard truth to live with.

I am so incredibly lucky that we survived it all, somehow, pretty much intact. A part of my mind tells me that I have a tendency to recall, with freakish clarity, the bad things  while simultaneously forgetting the million good things that also happened. But when I am feeling this way, it’s hard for me to believe.

I am so blessed and lucky to have the relationship I have with her today. We are the closest of close, and there is nothing we cannot or do not discuss. She tells me often that I need to let it go, that it wasn’t that bad, that she loves me and forgives me, and that she is glad she had the childhood she had. It wasn’t boring, she says. It was always an adventure.

And I look at the way she lives- out in the country, with the same boyfriend she’s had since she was fifteen years old. She loves to cook, she bakes her own bread. She gardens as if it were what she was born to do, raising fruits and vegetables I’ve never even heard of before. She cares for her dog and her cat, and she just wants to be somewhere quiet, somewhere out in the woods, away from the noise and crowds and drama. I look at all of that, and I think…it could have been so much worse. If children want to be different than their parents, if this is how she rebels…thank GOD. Seriously, thank God.

I am still not the best mother. I probably never will be. I cuss too much, I yell too much, I tend to treat my children like miniature adults. But I am so much better at it. As a matter of fact, I can say with a straight face that I am proud of the mother I have become. Not just to my little child, but to Aisley, as well. She still needs me- maybe more than ever, actually. Navigating adulthood is no joke. As she has grown up, so have I. Yet another thing we share, another thing that bonds us. As long as I stay a few steps ahead of her, I think we’re doing okay.

So…happy birthday to my sweet little Aisley. And happy motherhood anniversary to me. It’s been a long road, but I think I’m finally headed in the right direction.

 

Posted in aging, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, love, Musings, People, relationships, women

Love

love

August 28th, 2017 was the worst day of my life so far. It was the day I found out that the man who stole my heart 22 years earlier had been killed in a motorcycle crash the night before. I took the next two days off of work, and cried harder and longer than I have ever cried before in my life.

Now, lest you get the wrong idea, I want to be very clear here- he and I hadn’t been together for 22 years. If you strung together all of the days we spent together, through the years, it might equal two years, maybe three. But I feel like I thought about him every day. Whether or not that is actually true, I can’t say for sure. But it feels like it is true.

I have a peculiar glitch in my system, I think. When I let someone into my heart for real, there is no backing out. Once I love you, I love you always. It doesn’t matter what transpires, or how our paths might diverge. My heart is loyal to a fault, even when my actions and words are not.

But when I was 20, I fell in love with this man, and I loved him exactly the way a 20 year old girl would- in a crazy, hopeless way. And I am so glad I did. I am so glad I got to experience that kind of love. Over the years, I learned from those feelings the way love can evolve and become something else. Friendship and deep, deep affection. It wasn’t the same at the end, but in some ways it was better, you know? I got to experience this whole spectrum of love with him, and it has never stopped. I love him, still. He might not be here in person to tell it to, but I haven’t stopped talking to him, I haven’t stopped the conversation. Death is no barrier to love, I know that now.

In my last relationship, I learned even more about love- things I didn’t necessarily want to know, but have been valuable lessons just the same. I learned that love is not, in fact, all you need. You need other things, too- things like trust, respect, communication. Without those things, all the love in the world cannot save you. I learned that you can love someone with all your heart and hate the things they have done, and it is a struggle to grasp how this person could be capable of these things. I learned that heartbreak can change you, perhaps for good, and at the very least for a long time. Most importantly, I learned to be careful who I gave my heart to, because I do, indeed, have a particular glitch that makes my love permanent, and the repercussions of that are many.

And now, here I am, doing it again. Right now it’s little baby love, or maybe a precursor to love, and it is…lots of things. Thrilling. Scary. Awesome. Beautiful. Exciting. Worrisome. All of the things. I haven’t talked about it yet. I am old enough to know that time will tell, and that there is no harm in seeing how things unfold. But I love being fully present for all of the unfolding. I love the changes in me that allow me to be grateful and aware of the good things that are being dropped, one by one, like little gifts, into my life. I love having someone to turn to who is also turning towards me. I am on this new, unexpected journey, and I am just along for the ride. I have never done things this way before. It is good.

The thing I love most of all, though, is learning once again of my heart’s capacity to love. No matter how broken or battered it has been, eventually, it is ready to try again. It has room for one more. I can let someone else in, and never lose the ones that are already there. My heart is amazing. My ability to love is amazing. I may not be an expert, but I know a thing or two. And I am learning new things all the time.

In my heart of hearts, I believe that love is the reason we are on this earth. Learning how to love one another, how to treat one another, how to exist in a loving way with all the souls we travel with. I see how my ability to love and be loved has evolved, and I think I am getting better at it. I hope I am. Only time will tell. For now, I am content to continue figuring it out, knowing, as I do now, that I can survive whatever comes. If I survived through August 28th, 2017…I can can make it through anything.

I miss you, Joe. Can’t wait to see you again someday.

Posted in beauty, faith, family, happiness, Life, love, magic, mindfulness, Musings, People, random, relationships, spirit

Sacred, Wonderful, Beautiful

This morning, I woke up and did what I do every day- let the cats and dog out, started my coffee, then sat down to wait with my phone for it to brew.

The first thing I stumbled across on Facebook was a video my friend had posted of a wedding in Ireland, in a big, beautiful cathedral with high, high ceilings. Some of the family of the couple waiting to wed had decided to surprise them by serenading them with “Stand By Me”. Have you ever heard a choir sing in a cathedral? It’s pretty breathtaking. Add to this all the love and emotion of a wedding, the tears of the floored couple, the beauty of the song…I’m not even going to pretend that I didn’t tear up.

Let’s think about all of that for a moment, can we? Do you ever think about how insane it is that human beings sing? I mean, I know, we take it for granted that it’s just a thing we do…but do you ever really think about what that is? That sometimes, these funny, upright animals that we are open our mouths and music comes out of us? I mean, it’s kind of incredible, right? That when we are happy, we sing and become happier, and sometimes, the other animals around us know the words and join their voices with ours, and there we are, just pouring out our love and happiness into the air. Is that not the craziest thing you’ve ever thought about?

Or what about the idea that songs even exist? That there are songs for every type of feeling you can imagine, songs for when we are sad, songs for when we are angry, songs for falling in love, falling out of love, unrequited love, lost love, every kind of love that exists. The notion that us weird, complex, neurotic, messy beings have been sitting down since the dawn of time, trying to figure out how to spell out the nature of our feelings…I mean, wow! That is the craziest thing!

I know, I know…you have stuff to do. You have to get ready for work and pay your power bill, you forgot to get gas last night, and the kids lunches need to be made. Not to mention the world is falling apart, the glaciers are melting, the polar bears are starving, and the people running the world are all idiots. I get it. Things are hectic and messed up.

max ehrman

But if you have a minute today, just think about it, would you? That you have the ability to open your mouth and make music come out. You have a beautiful soul that looks out through your eyes at your children and feels startled by the love you feel for them. You have listened to a song that someone you never met wrote and thought “That is exactly how I feel.” You have read a poem that someone wrote to the moon two hundred years before you were born, and you have looked up at the same moon and known the words were perfect and true. You have undoubtedly cried tears of joy and tears of sadness for people you have never, and will never, meet. You have mourned strangers and rejoiced for them, too, many times.

Somewhere along the way, we have certainly gotten lost, haven’t we? The way we live today is not the best for us, not for most of us. We are lonely and isolated in neighborhoods crammed with people. We are rushed and busy, stressed and angry, always on the go, always plugged in. I couldn’t even pretend to have a solution for it. I wouldn’t know where to start.

I just want you to remember that each one of us is something more than that. Each one of us has a soul, or something, something bigger and so much more important inside of us. We have eyes that light on beautiful things, hands that gently brush the hair from a sleeping loved ones face. We have hearts that swell with pride and love, and break with grief and loss. We have minds that contemplate the stars, and write poems to the moon. We have voices capable of song. We live on a planet that is sacred, wonderful, and beautiful…and each one of us is no less. Try to remember that, at some time today.

Posted in Dating, entertainment, friendship, fun, happiness, humor, Learning, Life, love, Musings, People, random, relationships, women

Quirks, Baggage, and Funky Thoughts

baggage

If you are single, and you think you have resolved nearly all of your issues and have arrived at some plateau where the dilemmas of the common man no longer ruffle your feathers, I highly recommend you run out and get involved with someone. Especially if you want a good laugh. Because I PROMISE YOU, the minute you add that new person to the mix, along with a good dollop of whatever emotions happen to tag along, you will be just amazed at the weird acrobatics your brain can (and probably will) do.

I want to preface this by saying that the man I have had the absolute pleasure to find myself spending time with is incredibly attentive. He keeps in touch, he is basically an open book, and he is kind. All of these are things I doubt I would have been able to tolerate at any other phase in my life- I mean really, nothing ever turned me off more than a man who liked me back. You know the old story about how “men like the chase”? Well, I guess I am a man, then, because that was always my M.O. I loved the chase. One might even say I went out of my way to find unavailable men just to up the challenge a little bit.

As a matter of fact, I worked so very hard at that chase, and at convincing (or trying to) the man that I was perfect for him, that very often, I forgot to check in with myself to see if I liked them. Like, really liked them, beyond the thrill of the conquest. As you can imagine, this has created some problems for me. It has also created weird dynamics in relationships that lasted far longer than they ever should have. I have a lot of “go away, I can’t stand you…wait, come back, I love you!” situations under my belt. I didn’t understand it when it was happening, but I knew it was unhealthy and weird. I don’t really understand it now, and I don’t think it matters. I just don’t want to do it anymore. I’m too old for that shit.

But I do still have some things to deal with. I am so lucky that I am older, wiser, and totally hip to what is happening in my thought process while it is happening. That doesn’t make it any more pleasant of course, nor does is make the feelings any less real, but…at least I can see my thoughts for what they are- made up scenarios in my brain- rather than believing them to be the truth and letting them run rampant through my life, wrecking everything.

A perfect example is this recent non-event that my brain made into a big old deal: We had tentative plans to hang out at my house one evening while Cam was gone. We never hang out at my house, by the way- I don’t know why…okay, that’s a lie, it’s because my house is a freaking mess, that’s why. Anyway, due to circumstances beyond our control, we couldn’t nail down anything ahead of time, and were playing it by ear. No biggie, right? I had a text at 7:40 in the morning saying “I’ll let you know soon.” And that was it. Normally, I get a call or text midday, at least. This particular day, nada. Okay, fine. That’s fine. By three in the afternoon, I’m getting worried. I refer back to previous texts to see if I said something unreasonable? Pushy, maybe? I begin to over-analyze everything, all the while telling myself I’m being ridiculous. At four, I send out an exploratory text. “Hi. How’s your day? I’m almost off work.” HINT FREAKING HINT. Thirty minutes crawl by, then “Busy. How about you?”

Sigh. Men. You gotta be direct sometimes. But I wasn’t there yet. “Same. Got a lot done, though.” Annnnnd…nothing.

At five thirty, Cam is long gone with her dad, my house is more spotless than it’s been since I moved in, and I’m laying on the couch, half sulking, half convinced that it’s over, he hates me, I did something wrong, I…wait. Wait, wait, wait. What in the hell is going on here? I sat up, paused the TV, and took a good hard look at my crazy ass thoughts. First of all, I’m ashamed to admit that it got that far in the first place- this is a perfect example of old behaviors and baggage floating to the surface like the bloated corpses of relationships past that they are. Secondly, if I needed an answer about something, it was my job to ask- why was I pussy footing around? I quickly sent out another text- “Hey, I need to know what we are doing so I can plan my night- you coming over or not?” Easy. Third of all, had there been any indication whatsoever that this guy was the kind of person who would just ghost me on a whim? Absolutely not. So why was I not giving him the benefit of the doubt? And why was I literally just sitting there, waiting for him to call me? Jesus Christ, I’m a fiercely independent, self-sufficient, forty four year old WOMAN.

So, I got up, threw my shoes on, and headed out the door to get some frozen yogurt as a reward for all my hard work on the house. When I got home, I realized I’d left my phone on the charger, and sure enough, had missed a call from him and several messages. He’d had a busy day, he was sorry, call him back, he was getting in the shower and heading over. So…all of those mental theatrics were for NOTHING. An utter waste of my time and energy. I laughed (worriedly) at my own ridiculousness, and carried on as if nothing had happened, because…nothing had happened. Lets see how long I can retain that lesson.

It hit me, though, how much I still have to mature in this area. I have never been very good at it, relationship stuff. It scares me more than anything. At the same time, I realize how lucky I am to get to be here right now, in the midst of all these heady feelings. I’ve waited a long time for this, not even realizing that I was waiting for it. So why not enjoy it? Why not recognize that every time I start trying to plan it or place expectations on it, it doesn’t feel good anymore, and when I just let it unfold, it does? Because the truth is, I can’t say what will happen or what comes next- really, no one ever can. But I can squeeze every bit of joy out of what is right in front of me. And that in no way involves me sulking on my couch, waiting for my phone to ring. It means trusting that, no matter what happens, I’m capable of being happy…and that means it’s safe to relax and enjoy the good things in my life.

 

Posted in adventure, anxiety, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, love, meditation, Mental Health, Musings, People, spirit, spirituality

Turning Toward the Pain

If you have been following along on this scribbled down leg of my life’s journey with me, then you know that I have been through some STUFF. Since I started this relationship with WordPress years ago, I have shared my stories of addiction, recovery, relapse, and more recently, my exit from recovery. I have talked about guilt, shame, parenting fails, anxiety, depression, and probably a trillion other things I couldn’t possibly remember right now. I have talked about God, about my spiritual life, about my desire to evolve, be better, do better. I write a lot about the times I get up, and I probably write a lot more about the times when I feel knocked down. These are the things I need to speak from my heart more urgently. These are the things I feel called to share.

If you have ever thought “Man, this poor girl can’t catch a break- it’s always something!” I want to be clear that there are always times when I could choose to take a time-out. There are probably months worth of posts where I have been gliding along, feeling peaceful, overflowing with gratitude. But it is my nature to seek. I feel in my soul the urge to grow and change and untangle the knots of who I am. It is inherently part of what makes me me.

This latest little series of posts is no different- although, of course, it is different than anything else I have been through. It’s just a new set of interesting things I am sorting through and figuring out. I am not lost, I am not in over my head, I am not losing my hold on reality. I do not need to be fixed. I am not broken. To the contrary, I am strong, resilient, capable, and independent to a fault.

On that note, I want to tell you that it is entirely possible to be strong, resilient, capable and independent, and still be a walking vessel for fear. I am still afraid, all the time, about things I can’t control. Most, if not all, of them are made up scenarios in my head that I dream up to torture myself. Why do I do this? I couldn’t say. Perhaps I spend too much time alone and have a bit too much going on in the imagination department. If my life were a TV show,  the scenes unfolding in my head would be hilarious. Unfortunately, this is real life, and they aren’t funny in the moment.

I am going through a little phase of this right now. My anxiety is flaring up, my imagination is firing on all cylinders, and the fear is revving its engine, just waiting to tear off down the track, dragging me behind it. And you know what? WHATEVER.

That’s the word I’ve chosen to deal with all of it. WHATEVER. Okay, brain, fine, do your worst. I’m just gonna hang on and let this thing play itself out. I can survive it. I’ve done it a million times before. I have done therapy, read books, reasoned with myself, tried distraction, prayer, meditation…you name it. So, fine. If I insist on continuing this way, then whatever. I accept it.

No, you know what? I more than accept it. This feeling in the pit of my stomach, the harbinger of nerves to come? I embrace it. This feeling comes from a place of deep, if misguided, love. And how lucky am I to love so much that sometimes it hurts me? I wish that my relationship with love didn’t hold so much fear, but right now it does, and while I am working on a solution, I want to take a moment to acknowledge how brave my spirit must be…to be so afraid, and still be able to love the way I do. At least when it comes to my children, I am an open channel of never-ending love, and it is terrifying, but it is also the best, most beautiful part of my life.

So today, rather than admonish myself for my inconvenient feelings, I am going to turn towards them. Turn towards the pain and the fear, and say “I see you. I get it. I understand why you keep showing up.” Maybe I just need to learn to sit with it, instead of always running away. Show my fear, and the pain it causes, some tenderness and understanding, because it’s a part of me, and it comes from a place in me that is hurting. I am not broken. But there are depths I have not explored and places inside that I keep locked away, even from myself. I’m getting closer, all the time, to letting the light in.

I think it’s pretty human to want to get away from things that don’t feel good. Whether it’s a bad pair of shoes, or feelings that make us uneasy or cause us distress- pain, fear, worry, jealousy, anger, sadness. We always want the sunny ones, but the darker ones we feel the need to change, resolve, hide, analyze, fix. But there is value in the painful stuff. There’s a reason, and there’s growth there…painful feelings are trying to tell us something we need to hear. Sometimes it’s just hard to listen because we can’t be still with them. I’m going to try really hard to listen this time.

Feeling less than okay is okay. Today I give myself permission to feel my feelings without judging them or trying to change them, with no expectation of a different outcome. I just want to see how it feels to do something different. I want to see where this path leads.

Posted in happiness, inner peace, Learning, Life, love, meditation, Musings, People, spirit, spirituality

Spiritual Meltdown

This is now my third attempt at this post, and if I make it through this one without spinning off into incomprehensibility, it will feel like a win. Here’s the deal- I am not well versed in the language of spiritual experiences. I can create a vulgarity-laced diatribe so naturally that it is impressive…I mean, almost poetic sometimes. I have made combinations of dirty words so offensive that even I have been shocked every now and again. I am literal, and matter-of-fact, and, though I love the idea of magical, mystical, whimsical things, I am practical enough to take things with a grain of salt.

Yet here I am, nine days since my regression, and I’m pretty sure I’m in the midst of a spiritual…I don’t know what to call it, honestly. At first it felt like a shift, then I thought maybe an awakening? But now I kind of want to call it a meltdown. I think I’m having a spiritual meltdown, you guys. Oh, and by the way, if you don’t know what in the world I am talking about when I mention my regression, you can read about it here and then the follow-up here.

My head is so crazy with thoughts that I can’t even keep up a little bit. I am no longer even trying to follow along anymore. It’s like ( and forgive me if I’ve already used this analogy previously, I can’t remember) a door was opened up and now all the contents behind that door are rushing out into my conscious mind, clamoring for attention. I feel like I should be carrying around a notebook so I can scribble down the bits and pieces, but I also feel like I would be writing all day long. That’s how nutty it is.

I think, once my head settles down, I might be able to sort through them a bit and make some posts about the important ones, but right now things are so fragmented and scattered that it’s just not possible. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was going crazy, to be honest. If this happened to me without context, I would be very worried. But I can see that my regression experience was some sort of catalyst, and now I am just at the start of something I haven’t dealt with before, so I’m not really afraid. I’m just…hopeful that things settle down soon. I can’t really make use of something that makes no sense.

I’m about 95% sure that I am rambling right now, and goddammit, I am trying hard not to. I am going to try to explain. I thought it would be cool to see a past life, to have that experience, and it WAS. It was so cool! Did I wonder if it was real? Yep, I sure did. I also thought I would do that thing, and then go on with life, no big deal. Instead, two days later, I started seeing parallels between my current life and the life I visited, and realized I needed to pay attention. On the tails of that, I was hit with the realization that my priorities (and those of the world in general) are wrong, my perception of myself was incorrect, and the way that I think is problematic. Simultaneously, I got that judgement (of myself and others- like, my number one favorite thing.) has got to stop, that forgiveness (of myself and others, which I SUCK at) is imperative, and that love is the most important thing, period. Which is great, love is GREAT, but I have these super massive walls in place because I’m terrified of vulnerability, and love and vulnerability are like BFF’s, you know.

So…I mean, WTF?! Not to mention the fact that I have cried, a LOT, every single day since then. I’m no robot, but I have gone years before without crying even once. It’s 6:28 in the morning, and I already ugly-sobbed once today! WHAT is HAPPENING to me? For once in my life, not only are the right words escaping me, but I do not know where to turn for guidance, because I don’t even know what this is. I’ve googled “Spiritual Awakening”, “Spiritual Shift”, “What happens after a past life regression”, you name it, I’ve googled it. There are certain things that fit, but lots that don’t. If you can think of anything, I am listening. Point me in a direction, I’ll do the work.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that work, which is a struggle for me even in “normal” times (whatever normal is in relation to me), has become barely tolerable in the midst of all this spiritual chaos. I have been a little nervous that I would just quit my job due to the pointlessness of it all, though rationally I do understand that having a home and being able to eat are rather important. It just seems so…stupid. Working while contemplating the eternal nature of our souls and our purpose here on earth. It certainly isn’t to memorize diagnosis codes or clear edits for patient billing. Blech.

This morning, when I prayed, I thanked God for this new perspective, but asked if he could kindly slow the whole thing down a little bit for me. Maybe show me one area to think about at a time, give me a place to start rather than a million little hints. What came up in meditation was self-forgiveness, which, as I mentioned above, is rather difficult for me. Forgiveness of all kinds. So, that is what I am going to be try to focus on over the next few days, and see if I can make some progress.

I’ll certainly be back soon. I have so much to say, and just hope I can find the words without sounding like I’ve gone off the deep end. I assure you, I have not. As a matter of fact, as strange as it all may seem, I can’t help but wonder if this is perhaps the most clear sighted I have ever been? I never, ever, not in a million trillion years, would have thought that one regression would shake me up in this way. I have no idea if this has ever happened to anyone else, because I can’t find any information on it. But I’m not sorry. I’m just surprised. I really hope some of this made sense to someone. If not, well…that’s okay, too. I needed to get it out.

Talk to you soon!