learningtocry.wordpress.com

I see my mind trying to hijack things.  The thought,
‘I should be worried about this.  I should feel anxious, insecure.’

But I’m not.  This is called progress.  Okay.  Yesterday a bit of insecurity for a new venture.  A bit of, ‘Can you, or should you, pull this off?  Are you qualified?

But it wasn’t strong.  It floated around a bit.  It didn’t, however, pull me under.  It didn’t make me feel fear in my body.  It didn’t send me into internal panic mode.

Progress is beautiful.  I have learned through experiences, through so many trial and errors that have worked out well, that it will be okay.  It’s what my mind makes of it.  I have learned that I am safe.  And that it is safe to dip my toe in the water.  There has been one big mean shark lurking out there but other than that, it’s gone well.  I have learned to ask for help. I have also learned to navigate the seas on my own.

My compass?  Simply moving forward with clear intention for what I want.  Having trust in others and faith that the Universe will provide when my vision is clear.  Understanding that it won’t always look like I anticipate.  And easing up on myself.

I will end by sharing that this progress does not mean that everything is always roses.

Last night was hard.  But today is a new day.   I realize that I need to have plans with friends on Sunday evening. To ask them to take initiative in getting me out of the house.

Friday nights used to be hard, now the loneliness sets in on Sunday.  Fridays the boys went with their dad.  Each time I experienced that separation, when they were gone, I cried.  For years, I cried.  Now I cry on Sundays.

I know there will progress there as well.  It’s all part of the bigger picture.  Without sadness we wouldn’t know joy.  Thank you for being there with me through all of my highs and lows.

Goodbye for now dear reader.

I smelled your cologne, when I walked through the door.

I’ve never lived on my own before.

I though I would miss you.

Now that you’re gone, it’s plain to see

What I’d been missing all along, was me.

Now that you’re gone,

I’m not lonely anymore.

Hi there!  It’s a good morning.  Good morning to you.

Today was the first time I was happy about my new lines.  I look in the mirror every morning and try to think how to reverse them.  I am trying many things.  And plan on having a women’s workshop about aging.

This morning I was excited about painting my lines with a solution I have been using the past few weeks.  I like working with lines on paper.  Line drawing.  I like filling things in.  Like the time I stayed up until one in the morning filling up the divots in my kitchen cork floor with wood putty.  Or the time I used Quickrete on the patio at our house in Ashland. I can become a little ocd about these kind of things.  There’s something so satisfying filling in the cracks and making things smooth again.

Now I use a tiny little brush to apply an essential oil blend, filling in the lines on my face.  I also found a great cover-up product from Neutrogena that has hyaluronic acid in it that I apply around my mouth to make things smooth again.

I am a fairly thin person so there is no extra plumpness to fill in the lines naturally.  Unlike my grandmother, who had such nice skin but also a lot of extra fat to keep everything plump.  It was nice firm fat.  Not saggy.  She looked great throughout her older years, living until the age of 92.

A younger friend told me the other day that I had a youthful face.  It’s interesting the stories we create about ourselves.  I have just been noticing how I am looking older and thinking it is really standing out to everyone else as well.  You know, like it’s making national headlines…..Breaking news!  “Mid-Missouri woman shows signs of aging!”  Trying to accept and love myself.  And not think people will love me less as my looks change.

Switching gears now…..It is bright outside and that makes me happy.  A smile came across my face when I awoke at 10:00 a.m. to see the outside blanketed in a beautiful white snow.  It’s so pretty as I sit looking out at it now while I write.  There is a lot on the agenda for this Sunday but I feel so relaxed and at peace.  I realize how much anxiety I had had before, now that it is gone.  I don’t think it was extreme, not like many people these days.  But it was there.  I was unaware of how much it was there until now that it is gone.  I think it is all tied up with fear.  For me it was fear that I wouldn’t get something done if I didn’t always have it on my mind.  Fear I would forget and miss something.  Some deadline, e-mail, or phone call I was supposed to make.  Things have gradually shifted.  It can come back on occasion but not so much.   Not too often.

This anxiety started after the separation/divorce.  I am not sure exactly when it started during the past four years but it creeped in little by little.  That unease.  That seeing a bill, or to-do list and having that eek feeling.  That internal micro-panic.  I need to take care of that.  I still haven’t done it yet.  I am worried I may forget it…if I don’t worry about it.  It’s so nice to be free of that worry.  I will try to help others release it as well through my Mindful Practices business.  I kind of want to call it Peaceful Practices but thinking of a marketing angle, Mindful is a better catch word for people.  A little more descriptive.  And something they can pronounce, unlike the former business name I loved, Qigong for Health.  Since no-one knows how to say Qigong, or what it even is, I figured it was past time to change it.  This will be a good year for my business.  For me as a person. A person with a mind and body that is more free and relaxed.

I sit with my cat at my shoulder on the bed behind me.  I took the bed off of the frame about a year ago.  What’s the point anyway?  That empty space under the bed just allows dust and mysterious items to gather and linger.  Marley often likes to get on my lap while I am writing or meditating.  Wanting my attention while I am trying to give my attention to other things.  Sometimes he will lie on the bed and put his paws on my shoulder.  Carley, my other cat, has been swimming in the sudsy water that I left in the kitchen sink.  Haha.  Yes, a cat that likes water.  So I shew her off of the bed again as she tries to snuggle up on top of my pillows with her wet paws.  Eww.

I have to go now.  Use the bathroom, and get ready to hike in the snow, then take soup to a sick friend.  Although I also need to get in a quick meditation as I have not gotten to that yet.

Adios amigos!

I bought a ring on Tuesday.  Something I had been thinking about doing for a while now.  It’s very pretty.  A simple band with many colors.  I can turn it to show different colors on different days.  It’s not a mood ring in the traditional sense.  But, my own version of a mood ring.

My ring is very important to me.  Significant.  I watch people shopping as I sit by the window.  I see a purple car driving by and think about my friends across the street at the vegetarian joint.  Sitting here sipping hot water and nibbling on a blueberry muffin at one of my favorite coffee shops I’m alone but not lonely.  I love seeing the people on the other side of the window.  A new friend rides by on his bike.  Bald head and olive green puffy coat.  He makes me smile.  I have added him to my grouping of adorable ones.  We make the world go round.  Petite woman in a white snowman sweater.  Rotund man in large orange vest.   Black leather jacket, tan pants  50 something thin man talks on phone listening through earbuds, walking slowly back and forth -smiling.  Two college student Asian guys pass by the window.  Sunshiny beautiful day.  Spooning up the last crumbs of my muffin. Tasting sweet.  Guy who works here leaves.  I like his nice posture and the way he carries himself confidently as he crosses the street, moving onto other things.

Last night I was crying.  Sobbing in the car on the way home from my yoga class.  After seeing a picture online, I had the realization that I never had anyone in my life who was really there for me.  A cheerleader and support for my emotional well-being. Not a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, teacher.  I think my husband and I were there for each other for awhile.  But since I had never had anyone there for me in childhood, I didn’t feel it was safe to totally open my soul to him.  It was not safe to totally open my soul to anyone.  I’m ecstatic to say that has changed.  I’m ready for love.  For that real, healthy love that I now know through new friendships and a few old.  I hope I have given my sons what I never had.  I know my oldest hasn’t always felt accepted by me.  Our energies were so different that we often had trouble connecting.  And I had trouble being there for both of them emotionally and with in my presence for a period of time after the separation/divorce.  If I could change that I would.

Cute guy on a bicycle rides by.  He looks around my age. Bright yellow jacket, black cycling tights, yellow helmet.  He rides on by.  Darn.

I have gradually switched my energy.  I no longer experience the fear of abandonment.  One of the classic side effects of growing up in an alcoholic household.  If you listen to ACA dogma, they will tell you that you are destined to be stuck with this and many other side effects.  The organization helped jump start me in recreating my world, but I moved away from it as I was not interested in repeating the laundry list every week.  I was interested in rewiring my system, doing some very deep work, in order to replace the items on the list that no longer served me.  The beliefs, the feelings, the behaviors.  Now if someone doesn’t call me, or text me back, I don’t revert to that scared little girl.  It isn’t the default to think that that person no longer loves me, no longer wants to see me, thinks I am dumb, or the like.  I no longer feel hurt or lonely if a prospective love interest does not contact me.  I’m starting to accept that there are all kinds of people in the world. Some of them aren’t skilled in the social arena – realm.  I’m learning things like – it’s not always about me and don’t try to figure other people out.  I’m learning there are some really weird people out there, and some really wonderful ones.  I’m learning how to speak up and say what I feel and what I need without fear of rejection.  I had been conditioned to expect emotional rejection when I shared my wants, needs, and feelings.  Now I have a sense of the kind of people I want in my life.  The people who want honest open connections.

My ring feels good and right on my finger.  It’s a little loose today.  It will probably be a little tight in the summer.  Fine black man in a nice suit, white woman in a long wool coat with a fun, colorful scarf and black fedora.  I want to be them.  That couple.  My ring represents something.  The colors.  The band.  It represents the new me.  I had a ring on that finger for 23 years.  Twenty four I think.  I still had it on when I met Brian, almost a year to the date of my separation.  I imagine it felt awkward for him to hold the small hand of a stranger, feeling a recognizable stone pressing into his fingers.  I’m not exactly sure why I kept it on for so long.  I think it was a sense of security.  It is no wonder he finally confessed over one of our long distance phone calls that he was uncomfortable because my divorce was not yet final.  That connection did not last long.  Now I wonder what I am doing wrong sitting here still single.  I’ve done the work.  And continue to grow myself.  I’m looking for that soul mate.  Someone online told me, “He’s looking for you too.”  I had never though of that before that moment.  I tried to sit back and let him come to me.  I wonder where he is.  I’ve tried dating.  It has been a great learning experience but not something I particularly have enjoyed.  It takes a lot of energy.

My ring provides comfort.  Pride for all the work I have done.  It provides something concrete in place of the phantom feeling I’ve have for the past three years, since removing the ring after returning home from Boulder.  After seeing Brian for the last time.  Last week marked the fourth anniversary of moving out of the house my sons and I had shared with my husband, their father, and into our new home, and beginning our new life.  I think that is another reason for the sobbing last night.  It’s a big deal.  My heart breaks for my sons.  I don’t like it that I was the one who split up the family, even though it was necessary and the best for everyone.  Nobody wants to be the bad guy.

I think it is time to shift from watching people to engaging with people, as I watch a mother with her toddler son engaging with a homeless man.  That man was a baby once, with a mother.  I wonder where she is now.  If her heart is breaking.  Or if it was so broken when he was born that he ended up on the streets begging for money as a way to fill the void in his heart.  The hole in his soul.

This human experience and its complexities are way to much for my mind to comprehend.

I’ll go shopping now.  Try to offer some sort of reconciliation to my sons this Christmas.  And, oh yeah, hopefully find that car I’ve been searching for.

Namaste.