This did not go according to plan thusfar. Now it has been over 3 months since I have written. I have spent much time alone, checked out. Also overwhelmed by the responsibility I hold, though I never thought I chose it. I believed in taking a job at a cooperative, there would be less burden of being a business owner or a boss - I was wrong. I believed in remaining unmarried and living alone, I would have endless freedom, yet I have relationships and they imply responsibility. Closeness to a child implies responsibility. I have, indeed, chosen that.
My baby sister is in her late thirties, yet these last few years have given me the sense that she is my kid to watch over. Though she is grown and strong, she has endured cancer treatment, side effects that continue and will last indefinitely, and now divorce. We do not have a mother, nor grandmother to hold us in these challenges. So I take her and her daughter as mine.
This week I have been rendered motionless by the weight of what I have adopted as "my responsibility". Not sure how to proceed. Wishing for engaged parents, even though I have recently made the transition to age 40. There were no presents, except those to myself. I inherited a bit of money upon my mom's death, and use it to buy myself some little things each year - lots of warm socks, long underwear, a sweater.
I didn't plan to write today and am uninspired to continue. I suppose I was just checking to see that this blog was still here, in spite of my absence. I will try to revisit soon. Perhaps I need to set the ground rules for myself and this writing project.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Trying to move forward requires unburdening ourselves of the past. Not forgetting, just letting go of the weight of it, lessening its importance. Yes, it got us to here, and that has been the blessing. This week I am feeling the challenge of letting go of my stories, not all the way, but unpacking their dramas into the simple truths of what was.
There is much space in this. I am afraid of who I am without these stories, these justifications of why I am this way. But I cannot keep them as I know more. I can't cling to their defining. They are not working for me any longer.
For example, and this is one we all know of, the stories about the importance of sex. I am letting go of the story of needing to be wanted by boys in order to feel strong. That was a game for other times. But it got me through prior experiences of being single, and I am not sure how to traverse this space without that game. So much energy is freed by not seeking that kind of acknowledgement, yet I am a bit lonely without it. I lose my way and start on that path again, only to be laughing at myself moments later. I am no longer that girl who would be satisfied with such superficial admiration anyway. So it begs the question of how I would ever enter a relationship again, and I suppose I will just wait and see, and try my best to be open to it appearing in a whole different skin than before.
Retreating to sounds and smells and the outdoors this weekend. My frustrations of Saturday were pounded out with marching outside to loud music until I tired. I must remember to not retreat from the world and others when I want to retreat from my foibles. This is my practice. How to engage, but not too much. How to enjoy things without criticism of their unimportance. I can sit on my back porch for an hour and marvel at the myriad sounds from birds, insects, mammals, and even plants (walnuts ricochet off a metal rooftop). I can walk through strangers and admire and appreciate them from a distance. But I shy away from doing so with the ones who know me best. Because I get caught up in my thoughts and feelings and cannot just see what is when there is so much attachment. So I practice as a voyeur at something that requires getting my hands dirty. It is a terrible strategy.
That said, I did practice a bit more direct communication this week, to some satisfaction. I made an apology, and I meant it, and I did not attempt to justify my actions. Just claimed what I did, and said I was sorry. Did not even ask for forgiveness, which would have been greedy. And the mood between friends lightened again. Small victories do count.
Last night I was tempted to call for help. I wish I had, because I was not alone in that desire, and my sister-friend and I could have helped one another through a rough spot. Instead I stayed alone and distracted myself from it until I was so tired I would not have to feel any longer. Onward, I will work some more today.
Grateful for the few who stick by me in my isolation of myself. I am blessed with such friends who I am not deserving of. I hope they can recognise my efforts, that I still work.
xo
There is much space in this. I am afraid of who I am without these stories, these justifications of why I am this way. But I cannot keep them as I know more. I can't cling to their defining. They are not working for me any longer.
For example, and this is one we all know of, the stories about the importance of sex. I am letting go of the story of needing to be wanted by boys in order to feel strong. That was a game for other times. But it got me through prior experiences of being single, and I am not sure how to traverse this space without that game. So much energy is freed by not seeking that kind of acknowledgement, yet I am a bit lonely without it. I lose my way and start on that path again, only to be laughing at myself moments later. I am no longer that girl who would be satisfied with such superficial admiration anyway. So it begs the question of how I would ever enter a relationship again, and I suppose I will just wait and see, and try my best to be open to it appearing in a whole different skin than before.
Retreating to sounds and smells and the outdoors this weekend. My frustrations of Saturday were pounded out with marching outside to loud music until I tired. I must remember to not retreat from the world and others when I want to retreat from my foibles. This is my practice. How to engage, but not too much. How to enjoy things without criticism of their unimportance. I can sit on my back porch for an hour and marvel at the myriad sounds from birds, insects, mammals, and even plants (walnuts ricochet off a metal rooftop). I can walk through strangers and admire and appreciate them from a distance. But I shy away from doing so with the ones who know me best. Because I get caught up in my thoughts and feelings and cannot just see what is when there is so much attachment. So I practice as a voyeur at something that requires getting my hands dirty. It is a terrible strategy.
That said, I did practice a bit more direct communication this week, to some satisfaction. I made an apology, and I meant it, and I did not attempt to justify my actions. Just claimed what I did, and said I was sorry. Did not even ask for forgiveness, which would have been greedy. And the mood between friends lightened again. Small victories do count.
Last night I was tempted to call for help. I wish I had, because I was not alone in that desire, and my sister-friend and I could have helped one another through a rough spot. Instead I stayed alone and distracted myself from it until I was so tired I would not have to feel any longer. Onward, I will work some more today.
Grateful for the few who stick by me in my isolation of myself. I am blessed with such friends who I am not deserving of. I hope they can recognise my efforts, that I still work.
xo
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
a wednes day
The last few days have held much practice in civil debate. I am fortunate to have very experienced, reasonable examples around me as I try to play my part in collective decision-making and policy-setting. We all keep our self-interests in mind as we attempt to serve the bigger picture. Biases emerge through the debate, they tend to be pretty predictable. Self-interest, some might say survival instincts, tend to kick in.
I was caught not fully listening. Deciding my opinion before hearing out one speaker. She called me on it and I then listened and found I could agree on her good idea in theory, though the details would need working on. We made good progress, with no name calling, no accusations, and in the end we have an action plan. Exhausting, but satisfying work that helps me personally in not getting caught up in my feelings.
Today also brought a couple of lovely moments of connection of glances and sharing of smiles with strangers, one man on a bicycle during my walk to work, with each of us doing a couple of double-takes. The other with a construction worker during my walk home, again with the double-takes.
On another topic, I found out today that no cancer was found and once again I am maybe ok. For now.
Brought home a bounty of local Brussels sprouts, tiny potatoes, kale, zucchini, and green onions. And some teeny sweet plums that just glowed.
The house is quiet. I have washed sinks full of dishes this week, as I am cooking great meals for myself. At least I get the bare minimum of chores done. Next, to tackle the thinning of belongings and the cleaning all the corners out.
I was caught not fully listening. Deciding my opinion before hearing out one speaker. She called me on it and I then listened and found I could agree on her good idea in theory, though the details would need working on. We made good progress, with no name calling, no accusations, and in the end we have an action plan. Exhausting, but satisfying work that helps me personally in not getting caught up in my feelings.
Today also brought a couple of lovely moments of connection of glances and sharing of smiles with strangers, one man on a bicycle during my walk to work, with each of us doing a couple of double-takes. The other with a construction worker during my walk home, again with the double-takes.
On another topic, I found out today that no cancer was found and once again I am maybe ok. For now.
Brought home a bounty of local Brussels sprouts, tiny potatoes, kale, zucchini, and green onions. And some teeny sweet plums that just glowed.
The house is quiet. I have washed sinks full of dishes this week, as I am cooking great meals for myself. At least I get the bare minimum of chores done. Next, to tackle the thinning of belongings and the cleaning all the corners out.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
the door to a new room
A week or so ago, that converter box that got hooked up to the TV at the transition to digital times burned itself out of commission. It still had power, but no longer function. What I am left with is more silence. No TV for days, not even a moment to check the forecast. It has been a respite from news, from noise. It has been about 9 months since my last intentional media break. It has been about that long since my relationship of 13?-plus years took a break, or ended, when I asked him to move out. Yes, he still has a key. Yes, he lives around the block and is still here often. But we have been platonic, and living separate lives, with just an occasional shared meal or walk, like old friends do. We check in on one another and try to be encouraging. We listen and let the other dump complaints of the day to a degree. But when it is not serving us, we just stop and take a break.
I know how much I have used that box to drown out the silence that can push me to look inside, at my true mirror. But this tangible lack of noise was a very loud reminder of the squandering of precious moments. I have been scared. This change in relationship has brought up the "who am I?" without focus on a partner question. There have been very few windows for this inquiry in my life. I have kept the dance card busy.
I have enjoyed this additional room in my house, the space not filled with sound and picture. I got some things done, whittled down some accumulating stacks of information. Some I did not even feign to read, just moved them out. It was my intention 9 months ago, when this space became mine alone again, to clear and reset the whole apartment, to prove that it was just mine now. But that, too, is a task I have always shied away from. What is my living space like if I am not sharing it? What do I want it to be? Thusfar, it has just been in limbo, though a new rug came in and a few unused items have been donated. But it is still essentially the same as when it was "our" space. I am sensing some energy to shift that.
This morning, on the road, scanning the radio dial, I passed a religious radio station with a snippet that stuck for the day. Basically, the voice-over pointed out that when one has company coming, one cleans house at a whole new level than allowing the day to day accumulated mess. So he posed the query: "How would you clean house if Jesus were coming to visit?" I generally think instead about how my behavior would vary if I were always being watched, but the message is the same, and it's useful for today. (The wavy line of spellchecking has underlined behavior...)
I know how much I have used that box to drown out the silence that can push me to look inside, at my true mirror. But this tangible lack of noise was a very loud reminder of the squandering of precious moments. I have been scared. This change in relationship has brought up the "who am I?" without focus on a partner question. There have been very few windows for this inquiry in my life. I have kept the dance card busy.
I have enjoyed this additional room in my house, the space not filled with sound and picture. I got some things done, whittled down some accumulating stacks of information. Some I did not even feign to read, just moved them out. It was my intention 9 months ago, when this space became mine alone again, to clear and reset the whole apartment, to prove that it was just mine now. But that, too, is a task I have always shied away from. What is my living space like if I am not sharing it? What do I want it to be? Thusfar, it has just been in limbo, though a new rug came in and a few unused items have been donated. But it is still essentially the same as when it was "our" space. I am sensing some energy to shift that.
This morning, on the road, scanning the radio dial, I passed a religious radio station with a snippet that stuck for the day. Basically, the voice-over pointed out that when one has company coming, one cleans house at a whole new level than allowing the day to day accumulated mess. So he posed the query: "How would you clean house if Jesus were coming to visit?" I generally think instead about how my behavior would vary if I were always being watched, but the message is the same, and it's useful for today. (The wavy line of spellchecking has underlined behavior...)
an entrance
Today is the day to begin something. Will it be of use? Will I become stronger, smarter, clearer, more truthful, more myself in the process? I hope.
I was ridiculous this morning. I dressed to try to please others, drove to try to encounter others, just all around too much trying, not enough being. I was ashamed for even thinking about it, ashamed when I did the same thing last week, but went through with it anyway. How many times do I need to reproach my own foolishness before I learn this lesson? This has gone on for years, for decades. I could help myself, I am not completely unconscious in acting this way. I know I do it. But I need more repetition, more smacks on the nose, before it sinks in.
So today, I tried to witness this fool in action the best I could. I did OK. Got it over with, and it only took a couple of hours in which I otherwise would have stayed home listening to Sunday pundits. And then I started a blog, with no particular goal or plan or theme. Just gonna run with it, see what comes out. See if I can write more truthfully than I can act. See if the anonymity will allow the veneer to fall.
Lately all the ways in which I spend my time seem equally pointless, except for the essentials: eating, sleeping, breathing! If I could just lose the rest of the act and just be ok with doing those things that must be done. Lose the restaurant eating and making of plans and going places and formulating the stories to tell at work the next day. Ambition, in the conventional sense, is ridiculous to me right now.
Perhaps it is the recent losses of life, the illnesses with short prognoses that cause the sense of futility that is with me of late. Mind you, I am not depressed or melancholy about it. What used to inspire a bit more carpe diem in me now just leads to a flatter sense of every action, unless truly done thinking of God or Truth, as being equal to any other action. Leaving me at a crossroads unable to think of anything worthy to do. Except practice breathing, to honor this vessel I was born into, to try to use it as efficiently as possible.
Spent a lot of time working on remembering to breathe yesterday. Whilst walking and listening to music simultaneously. Again, passing grade, room for improvement. Later, what the hell?, why not go to that party? Normally I do not go to parties. But this laissez faire attitude took me to a party without much facade on. And I enjoyed it, and laughed and ate sweets and drank beer and stayed til midnight. The fruits of a day of good inspiration?
I was ridiculous this morning. I dressed to try to please others, drove to try to encounter others, just all around too much trying, not enough being. I was ashamed for even thinking about it, ashamed when I did the same thing last week, but went through with it anyway. How many times do I need to reproach my own foolishness before I learn this lesson? This has gone on for years, for decades. I could help myself, I am not completely unconscious in acting this way. I know I do it. But I need more repetition, more smacks on the nose, before it sinks in.
So today, I tried to witness this fool in action the best I could. I did OK. Got it over with, and it only took a couple of hours in which I otherwise would have stayed home listening to Sunday pundits. And then I started a blog, with no particular goal or plan or theme. Just gonna run with it, see what comes out. See if I can write more truthfully than I can act. See if the anonymity will allow the veneer to fall.
Lately all the ways in which I spend my time seem equally pointless, except for the essentials: eating, sleeping, breathing! If I could just lose the rest of the act and just be ok with doing those things that must be done. Lose the restaurant eating and making of plans and going places and formulating the stories to tell at work the next day. Ambition, in the conventional sense, is ridiculous to me right now.
Perhaps it is the recent losses of life, the illnesses with short prognoses that cause the sense of futility that is with me of late. Mind you, I am not depressed or melancholy about it. What used to inspire a bit more carpe diem in me now just leads to a flatter sense of every action, unless truly done thinking of God or Truth, as being equal to any other action. Leaving me at a crossroads unable to think of anything worthy to do. Except practice breathing, to honor this vessel I was born into, to try to use it as efficiently as possible.
Spent a lot of time working on remembering to breathe yesterday. Whilst walking and listening to music simultaneously. Again, passing grade, room for improvement. Later, what the hell?, why not go to that party? Normally I do not go to parties. But this laissez faire attitude took me to a party without much facade on. And I enjoyed it, and laughed and ate sweets and drank beer and stayed til midnight. The fruits of a day of good inspiration?
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