Posted in adventure, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, magic, meditation, Musings, People, random, spirituality

The Walk

I just glanced at my phone and realized that it is already the last day of the month. It struck me that I am ending this month as a completely different person than the one I was when it started. Well, pretty different, anyway.

I never imagined that having a past life regression would begin a chain of events that would change everything for me. I honestly just thought it would be a really cool experience. Now here I am, getting lost in books about hypnosis and where our souls go between lives, learning about how to do hypnosis myself, thinking very seriously about going back to school in the fall for massage therapy…it seems like a legit way to start out a journey into healing others, don’t you agree? I would not stop there, of course, but something about it has always appealed to me. My browser history is filled with questions for google like “What does a spiritual awakening feel like?” “What is the ego?” or “What happens when you become aware of your ego?”. To be fair, there are also things like “45 easy, healthy, sheet pan dinners” and “Weather in Salem in June”, so it’s not ALL related to spiritual stuff. It’s all about balance.

But it’s the content of my life that is most different. The thoughts I think, the new awareness I have of those thoughts. Thankfully, the initial rush of it all has slowed down to a bearable rate, for the most part- for a while there, I felt like I was barely hanging on as my thoughts exploded in my brain. Did I tell you that when I went to see my therapist, she started asking me suspicious questions like “How is your sleep?” and “Are you eating?” and finally, “Would you say you are having racing thoughts?”. I started laughing and said “Cori! I’m not manic, for Pete’s sake!” She admitted later, on our walk back out of the office, that she knew I would know what she was getting at since I work in the medical field, but she had to ask. I admitted that I would have to categorize my thoughts as racing, but I didn’t feel they were racing in a manic way. And I was still eating and sleeping just fine, thank you.

Either way, the thinking has slowed down. My morning prayer and meditation has become the most beautiful communion with…whatever is out there. I am a big sucker for ritual, and I light my candles each morning, light my incense, and sit down on my big red cushion to settle in. For several days in a row now, I have slipped into deep meditation in the middle of my prayers, and this is very new to me. I have always done guided meditations, and I still do, but I no longer believe it is necessary for me- just nice. Especially if there is a particular thing I want help with, guided meditations are wonderful. But finding I can access that meditative state without guidance, and without even trying- wow! It’s incredible, and easy and natural. I also have this experience of energy flowing through me during meditation that is so intense, it’s almost uncomfortable. I have to try very hard not to shy away from it, but to open to it instead. It’s not something I can explain, but it is intense. I just remind myself that none of this is bad, or scary, or dangerous, and try to relax into it. It is just unfamiliar to me- these are they types of things I would normally scoff at when reading books about other people’s spiritual experiences, and now it’s kind of happening to me, in real life.

But it follows me off of the cushion and into the rest of my day as well. Yesterday, I took a break from work and decided to take Lucy on a quick walk, as we often do. I grabbed her leash and my sunglasses and headed out the door, and from the minute I left the house, it seemed like all my senses were wide open and time almost slowed down- it was the craziest thing. The same walk I’ve taken hundreds of times was completely different. I was aware of the feeling of warmth on my legs from the sun. I could smell every flower and green thing that grew along the way. The colors of every plant, every flower, every leaf, seemed a hundred times more vivid than normal. I could see the bay off in the distance, the white buildings along the curving edge of the ocean, the white sail of a sailboat bobbing along. In the other direction, I could see the rolling hills and the lingering clouds that nestled into the dips of the higher mountains. This vista I had seen several times a day for four years appeared as if brand new to me! I stopped to watch three small birds chase each other from a nearby house to just over my head and then back again. They swooped joyfully and glided and dipped, and I just stood there, smiling like an idiot, watching them. One of them got very, very close to me many times, as if it knew how much I enjoyed watching them and was just showing off. As I rounded the corner to head back down the hill towards my house, I could smell the ocean in the cool air as it blew across my face, and still feel the warmth of the sun on the backs of my legs, I could see all the beauty I described above stretching out all around me, and I just drank it all in. I enjoyed every step I took on the way home, not rushing, just taking it in. I even stopped to smell a big pink rose that hung over the fence of someones yard. Only 15 minutes, but 15 minutes of pure bliss. How often do we get that? I don’t know about you, but for me, not often.

I arrived home with the crazy idea that if I keep heading down this path I find myself on, those moments will grow. If I keep looking for these moments, I will continue to find them. And this idea is pure relief to me. The idea that I can stop participating in the chaos and bullshit around me and connect with something better, something real and beautiful and worthwhile…I mean, it makes me want to cry.

There is so much more I want to share, but here we are, a thousand words in. I’ll save what’s next for another day. Have a beautiful day, and remember, wherever you are, whatever you find yourself caught up in- if it doesn’t feel good to you, there’s another way. It’s probably right in front of you, and you can’t see it. Keep looking.

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Posted in Blogging, entertainment, escape, happiness, inner peace, Life, Musings, People, pop culture, random, social media, spirituality, Uncategorized

Opting Out

Riding on the tails of yesterday’s post, I want to share with you that one of the most troublesome offenders of polluting my mental space and making me feel…Jesus, all sorts of unpleasant things…has been Facebook. This is not big news. I have posted about it time and time again, I’m pretty sure. (Like I said, I’ve had this blog forever, I honestly have no idea anymore what I’ve posted and what I’ve simply thought about. But I know I’ve posted at least once about this.)

It isn’t really Facebook’s fault. The responsibility for my troubled relationship with that social media platform is solely mine. I mean, I think so, anyway. The thing is, I spent way too much time there. WAY, WAY too much. Every spare second I had, it seemed like, I was reflexively tapping that little blue square on my phone, scrolling, scrolling, refreshing, scrolling. Leading up to the last election, I really spiraled out of control. I jumped on the political posting bandwagon, and flooded my feed (and everyone else’s) with meme after meme of Republican bashing, Trump bashing, right leaning bullshit news clips. I fought like hell to get my point across, to verbally destroy anyone who didn’t agree with me. I was rabid in my outrage. More than one friend unfollowed me. A few blocked me.

Guess what? Trump won anyway. After that, it was months of disbelief, horror, commiserating with like-minded friends, arguing with those who disagreed. More often than not, it would devolve into name calling and real hurt feelings. I blocked my own mother more than one time. Guess how much of a difference any of it made? How much good it did? Not a bit.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything political. I just don’t have the energy anymore. I suppose I’ve kind of accepted that this is the shit sandwich we’ve been served, and though it may be all that’s offered, I don’t have to sit at the table and eat it. I’m just over here, working on me, I guess. So, no more Trump stuff. Fine. I’ll just focus on the other stuff.

Well, that wasn’t working out anymore, either. I joined a lot of groups aligned with my specific interests- some connected to podcasts I love, a few ADHD related ones, a GOT one, of course. I can tell you honestly that there was not one single day in recent months where being on Facebook brought me more happiness than it did disgust.

People cannot spell. How that is possible with spell-check, I do not understand, but it is a real problem. People are anxious and depressed and suicidal, and Facebook is where they go to discuss it. People have health problems, and Facebook is where they go to discuss it. People hate the finale of Game of Thrones, and Facebook is where they go to talk shit about the writers and demand a do-over. People are upset about everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. And Facebook is where they go to discuss it. The place we go to complain and it feels like something was actually accomplished, when in fact, usually, it means nothing.

My feed was filled with memes I’ve been seeing for ten years, “woke” people getting offended and clutching their precious outrage to their chests as if it were heirloom pearls, cryptic, vague posts from attention seeking souls, preaching about veganism, preaching about the Keto diet, pictures of rashes with “does anyone know what this is?” attached, and like…maybe four pictures of my friends new baby (which I love) and an actually funny or insightful post from one or two friends.

I’m not saying I’m not guilty. Oh boy, am I! I’ve gotten better over time, but it’s definitely been a learning curve. My Facebook “memories” that pop up daily have some humiliating little gems. I am just as bad as the next guy- sometimes even worse.

Oh, Lord. My blood pressure is up just talking about it! I’m not even joking. So clearly, it’s no longer a healthy outlet for me. Plus, here I am, in the midst of all this spiritual shit, trying so hard not to judge myself or others, and…Facebook is never, ever gonna allow that shift to happen. Maybe when I’m more advanced or something? I don’t know. But at this time, I recognize that I have no business poking around there. It brings nothing to my life. It makes me feel terrible.

And so, the other day, without even thinking it over, I just deactivated my account. I didn’t flounce, I didn’t announce, I didn’t say shit to anyone. I just bounced. And the relief was immediate. I’m choosing to opt out of things that make me feel yucky. Things that cause me to have unkind thoughts that therefore make me feel guilty or shitty. I wondered briefly if friends would think I blocked them, but then I realized if they are really my friends, they can always call me. Or send me a message. Most likely, they won’t even notice or care.

I don’t need more opinions clamoring for attention in my head. I don’t need to constantly wonder if my humor is offensive, or if I’m a good enough parent, or if something I’ve said will be taken the wrong way. I don’t want to open myself up to being schooled by someone who thinks they know so much more than me, but in reality, simply has a different idea of the world. I don’t want it. I want out. I want out of all of that malarkey. So I left. It was simple as that.

Will I go back? I don’t know. Not anytime soon, I don’t think. I’m looking forward to thinking for myself, eating in a restaurant without checking in, avoiding the court of public opinion and overbearing political correctness. I want to be in a quieter world, with real life people who aren’t experiencing the rush of digital bravery only a keyboard provides. Facebook encourages and rewards false living, fake thinking, pretend empathy, and real meanness. I can’t seem to moderate my consumption, or get on board with the status quo…so I’m opting out.

Sorry, I just really needed to get that out. I feel better now. 🙂

Posted in entertainment, friendship, fun, Life, Musings, People, pop culture, random

GOT Party

got

Okay, so bear with me…this is not exactly the follow up to yesterday’s post, and don’t worry, I am not going to post any spoilers, but I thought this was worth mentioning.

For the past four episodes of Game of Thrones, I have been hosting watch parties at my house. The first one was just me and another friend…that was episode 2, season 8, and I have never been so glad to not watch GOT alone before. I could not have handled that shit by myself.

The following weekend, we were joined by another friend of mine who also didn’t want to watch alone. And yesterday, we were joined by yet another friend of mine, bringing it to a grand total of 4, which for some people might not constitute a party, but for me it’s a houseful.

Aside from the fact that I probably have PTSD from last nights episode, there are some real bonuses to having friends over that I never thought of before. First of all, you have someone to commiserate with when something is horrifying, bullshit, or just too funny not to make a joke about…in other words, every three seconds. Second of all, you have someone to grab when you get really wound up. (Thanks Alicia. Sorry about the bruises you’ll probably have on your arm today).

Third, though, is that, when you know you have people coming over, you WILL find the energy to get your ass up and do the dishes, sweep the floor. You might not think you can do it, but the closer it gets to time for people to arrive, the more motivation you find yourself having. So I am all but guaranteed a Monday morning in a clean house if I have friends over Sunday night. That part is pretty great.

Especially since I need that time to search Twitter, Facebook, and various other internet sources for their opinion about last nights show. I was a super late-comer to the GOT craze, and this is the first time in my life I’ve ever watched a popular show with the rest of the world. I am enjoying the hell out of it.

Many fans are not digging the way this season is unfolding, but I am willing to let it be what it is…an amazing, unpredictable story. It’s kept us off balance from the get-go, and it continues to do so. I. Love. It. While also dreading and hating it. Which is why it’s so amazing!

In just one week, it will be over, and I will have to find a new motivation for waking up in a clean house on Monday mornings. But for now, it’s been nice to add this new layer of socialization to my life. I’m grateful for the company.

Now, if only I could talk my friends into staying over…it’s hard to be alone after the show ends. LOL!

Posted in adventure, aging, fitness, Goals, health, Life, random, Weight Loss, women

The Next 6 Months

So, it happened. I turned 44. So far, all I’ve done since I’ve been double 4’s is sleep and eat. I mean…I’ve been eating A LOT. And yesterday, I took three naps before I went to bed. That’s crazy. In between, when I was awake, I was pretty much eating. I haven’t had a day like yesterday in a very, very long time. All I can think is that I must’ve needed it.

But, as I was lying in bed last night (or maybe it was yesterday? I don’t know, it all kind of runs together) I had the distinct feeling that I was ready to start being healthier again. For the past five months…mmm…maybe longer, I have just not made a concentrated effort to care for my body. I haven’t been consistently doing…anything. I honestly don’t remember the last time I was consistent with my physical health, if EVER. And I mean, really, really putting in the effort. I haven’t wanted to do any of that stuff recently, and that’s fine. But I think I do now.

I was just wondering, though…what would change if I really tried for, say, six months? How different would my body look, how different would I feel, if I dedicated myself to my diet and exercise for that length of time?

Right now, I’m still mulling it over. I’m trying to figure out what that would mean, exactly, and how to get started. But I think I’m going to do it. So stay with me. Shit’s about to get weird.

Posted in adventure, aging, fun, funny, health, humor, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I Am Going To Get Old

I mean, not to jinx myself or anything, but…it kind of looks that way. I’m not one of those people who never thought they’d make it to 30, as I’ve heard So. Many. People. Announce. Nope, although perhaps, considering my lifestyle over the years, that should have been more of a concern of mine. I took for granted that I would make it to 30, and 40, and onward, I guess…but I think I thought I would just feel young forever.

Not so much. As my 44th birthday approaches in just a few days, I gotta tell you…shit is catching up to me. I wake up in the morning, and it seems that just the simple act of sleeping now causes my body such distress. I lurch upward like Frankenstein after he’s been electrified into life, making the same moaning and groaning sounds. I set my feet on the floor with great care, never sure exactly how bad which things will hurt. This morning, for instance, my lower back feels as if I spent the whole day yesterday lifting heavy things the wrong way, except I didn’t. All I did was go to bed last night, sleep, and wake up.

For that matter, just sitting in the same position for too long can now cause pain. What the hell is that about? Yesterday, I was lounging on the couch with my knee bent for like five minutes too long, apparently, and when I went to shift around, it hurt! I had to do it slowly to keep the agony at bay. What is that? Is it natures way of telling me I need to move more? Because I really don’t want to, but if I must, I suppose I can make it happen. Grudgingly.

I recently spent upwards of a hundred bucks on a cream that would purportedly “firm” the “crepey” skin of my neck. In other words, I’m trying to diminish the signs of old lady neck. I think it might be working, a little, but let me tell you something- this shit smells like something you would use to lubricate a diesel engine. I am not joking when I tell you that the older you get, the more…intense the scents of your skincare regimen become. When I was in my 20’s, everything smelled like “Fresh Orange Bursts!” or “Grapefruit Sorbet!” or some such shit. We then moved on to “Clean scents” that smelled mildly floral or…I don’t know, the way you remember your mom smelling, I guess. That was fine. At my age? They don’t even bother trying to mask the chemical aroma of the heavy-duty crap that’s trying to salvage the very flesh of your face. I literally have a tube of Retinol cream that’s called- and I am not making this up- “Help Me!”. Its job is to burn the top layer of my face off every night because my skin is so old it has now forgotten how to regenerate itself. And that’s just one of FOUR things I slather on my face and neck every night.

Gravity is working overtime on every part of my body, which is fine on the parts of me that I am not showing the world- I mean, that’s what bras are for, right? But the only face bra I know of is plastic surgery, and that’s not happening. Also, my arms…oh, man, my arms. I love, love, love sleeveless blouses, but lately I’m not pulling them off like I used to.  And I know, I KNOW- if I could just find it within me to get back on my gym routine, this is a problem that would be easily remedied, but…this is my griping post, so get out of my face with your helpful suggestions. I am not in the mood.

Everywhere I go, I see old people. I mean, I work at a hospital, and I live in a town where the older population is astronomically higher than average, but Jesus. I see these elderly people, trudging down the street, clutching canes and moving so slow, and it just…it freaks me out! I mean, best case scenario, I get old. That’s the WIN. My options are- 1.) Die right now, which would be tragic, because I’m still technically young by death’s standards, or 2.) Get really old and slow and sad and grouchy because everything is hard, including breathing. Ugh, I don’t even know why I am thinking about it!

Every day of my life, I read peoples medical records- it’s okay, that’s what I do for a living. But I’ve come to realize that I am incredibly healthy. I don’t take any medications for anything, my blood pressure is perfect, my cholesterol is normal. My weight is a bit of a problem, but not by medical standards, just by mine, personally. This would be great if I had lived a mild type of life and took generally good care of myself over the years. It’s a fucking miracle if you consider that I spent a great portion of my life doing things that might have looked, to a moderately intelligent bystander, as if I were actively trying to kill myself. Not even slowly kill myself, but like, soon. Like, tomorrow maybe.

So, I’ve got it pretty good. I think, with a few small tweaks, I could probably sail through the rest of my 40’s with aplomb, and make it look good. But, you know, it’s going to require a bit more effort on my part than it did in my 30’s, that’s all. And a few more tubs of diesel lubricant neck cream. And maybe a new mattress, because the one I have now is going to put me in a wheel chair, I’m not kidding. Perhaps a few more glasses of water, and maybe a little more time exercising.

I’ll get started right after I take a tiny little nap. Or maybe tomorrow. Hahaha.

 

 

Posted in Addiction, happiness, inner peace, Life, Musings, People, random

Hi, Guys!

I know it’s been a really long time since I’ve posted anything, and I want to assure you that everything is just fine over here. I’m not dead. I haven’t been abducted by aliens. All is well, to be honest.

The main thing I am struggling with these days is, of course, time…but also…you know, this whole blog has generally been based on me being in recovery and the thing is, I’m not IN recovery anymore, so…I’m not 100% sure how to broach that subject. And no, I’m not mid-relapse, I’m not out partying it up. Not even close. I’m still the same old boring, in bed by nine (if I’m up late!) girl. I’m just not doing the 12 step thing anymore, and I am okay with it.

My worry, I guess, is that other people might not be. My fear is that, by sharing my thoughts and truths with others, I might be giving the impression that the decisions I’ve made would work just as well for anyone. I don’t want to give that impression. So I’ve been quiet while I try to work it out.

Suffice to say, the first little bit of time “on my own” was very isolating. Without being a part of a program, I had a little identity crisis. I didn’t know where I fit into the world anymore, and it was weird. But in my heart, I knew I needed to stick it out and get to the bottom of why I was feeling the way I was feeling about my life in recovery.

Fast forward to now, and all those weird feelings have passed. I will go more into it later, but for now I can tell you that I am not regretting my choice to leave. Not at all. I have zero desire to use drugs, and I can’t imagine a situation where that would seem attractive to me. I know in my heart that I am not going back. In meetings there is a weird stigma around saying “never again”. They say “Just for today”. Yet another thing that wasn’t resonating with me anymore.

Oddly enough, my anxiety has faded away as well. I can’t say at all that these things are in any way related, but I’m happy to report that, in any case. Perhaps I just grew tired of talking about, or hearing about, a struggle that, for me, was trying to fade into the past? There’s a lot. I have a lot of thoughts about it.

But right now, it’s 6:30, I’m still in my bathrobe, and the day is waiting for me to jump in and get the ball rolling. So that’s what I’m going to do.

Have a beautiful, magical…or at least bearable, Tuesday.

Posted in Addiction, Depression, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, Musings, People, random, Uncategorized

Kindness

kindness

Once upon a time, I was a very, very messed up young lady. Not messed up in the everyday, average, run-of-the-mill way I am now. I’m not talking about depression or anxiety this time, which I seem to suffer from in a very “normal” way, judging by the lives and comments from my friends. I don’t know many people who make it to this age in life without some baggage, vague mental illness, and/or flat out jadedness. I’m not saying this is a good or even acceptable thing, I’m just saying…it’s kind of part of the deal.

What I’m talking about here is my “former life”. The life I began at 19, the part where I wound up on drugs for such a long time. When I tell you that I was bad, I need you to believe me. There were no days off, not if I could help it. I lived, breathed and existed for my drugs. It was my life. I wish that it weren’t true, but facts are facts.

What I don’t often talk about is the kindness that was shown to me through those years. The people who saw something more in me, something good, and gave me chances, reached out a hand, tried to help. There are more kind and giving people in this world than you would ever imagine, if you have never needed help the way I used to.

I was homeless, periodically, many times throughout those years. And yet I never once had to sleep in my car- not ever. My friends would take me in for various lengths of time, never asking for for anything in return. I was always fed when I was hungry, I always managed to have a pack of cigarettes, I never remember feeling afraid or having nowhere to go. I was asked to house-sit, invited to stay over. My clothes got washed, I showered. I honestly don’t know how I got so lucky, but I always felt that I was. Even in the worst of times, I recognized that my life could be so much worse.

Did I disappoint people? Oh, yes. Regularly. The remorse I feel for the people I let down is almost a living thing, sometimes. It’s better now that I’ve made something of my life. I don’t feel it so acutely, with the passage of time. When I think about those years of my life, it honestly feels like I am viewing the memories of another person…someone I could never possibly have been, except that I was. I took advantage, overstayed my welcome, pilfered change from pockets, ate food that wasn’t meant for me. I was given jobs that I casually didn’t show up for, and borrowed money I could never pay back. In short, I was kind of a nightmare. Looked like a sweet kid, behaved like a monster.

And still…people helped me. My friend Debbie, who I’ve lost track of over the years, replaced my headlights when she was scraping by on a waitresses salary. The number of nights I spent in her apartment, blasting Aretha Franklin and driving her nuts, I couldn’t count. A lady named Suzi that I worked with asked me to “house-sit” for her every time she left town, knowing what a risk I was. People rolled the dice on me all the time, and I was not a safe bet. But I’ve never forgotten. I have never forgotten the kindnesses I’ve been shown.

One time, I was at the welfare office in Nevada, in a desperate situation. I needed money, I needed food- at this time I had a small daughter, and I had waited too long to look for help. There was no way I was making rent. I had called the Catholic charities, I had tried to figure it out,  but things were dire. It was winter time, I remember that, and things were not looking good in that welfare office. It was harder to get help in Nevada than it had been in California, and I knew things weren’t going to work in my favor for once.

There was a woman working there…she was probably the age I am now, mid forties, a heavy-set black woman. She had this beautiful necklace on- a simple chain with this big, shiny, single rhinestone hanging from it. In the midst of all the bullshit I was spewing, wired out of my mind, I said “I really love your necklace.” Because I did. I will never, ever forget what happened next. She said “You know, I never wear this thing. I felt called to wear it this morning, and now I know why.” And she took it off her neck and handed it to me. She GAVE it to me.

You know, that meant something to me. It might have just been a little piece of costume jewelry, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, she did something incredibly kind in that moment. She made me feel worthy and special and less like that desperate, messed up young woman I was. I don’t know how to explain it. But it gave me a boost that I needed so much right then. I will never forget it. I still have that necklace, and I wish I could find that lady and tell her I turned out okay after all. She might not remember me, but I will always remember her.

Another time, and this story is very strange, I was at the beach- a beach I frequent, even to this day. I was at the end of my last run, really strung out, really miserable, feeling like I had reached the end of my rope. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore…I had realized that no one was going to come along to save me, that I was going to have to rely on myself, and that thought terrified me. I just remember feeling incredibly down that day. The beach was nearly deserted, and out of nowhere, this woman approached me. She had on a skirt, I remember, a longish skirt, and she seemed out of place. She had a bag of sea glass with her, and she showed me her finds. I would guess she was in her fifties or sixties, and she seemed a little odd, though friendly enough. All of the sudden she told me she felt called to pray over me and asked if it was okay. Normally, this would have been SO not okay with me. But that day…I really needed it. It was the strangest thing. She held my hands, and she prayed for me, right there in broad daylight on that deserted beach. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about it. I never saw her again.

I don’t know where I am going with this, except…I’m just really grateful for the kindness I’ve been on the receiving end of over the years. I have hurt people and let them down, ripped them off and fucked them over. Yet I never saw the end of that kindness. It always kept coming, and always when I needed it most. I forget that sometimes- how kind people are when it matters most. Having been self-sufficient for so long now, relying on the news and social media to tell me how the world is, I let myself forget. But that’s not the truth, the things you see online, or on your phone. The truth is, people are mostly good, they want to help. I bet you know this about yourself. I bet you see it in others.

I would not be here without the kindness of strangers, the giving hearts of my friends. I know that much is true. Never stop reaching out, even when you think it’s a lost cause. You just never know the impact you might have on someone.