Posts Tagged ‘Fear’

water bowlI have a wild pool of water that has beautiful unpredictable ripples. It reflects a golden light that is more beautiful than anything I have ever seen. The patterns it creates are always changing and endlessly fascinating. I gaze at it with love.

I found the perfect bowl put the pool in. So I scooped up the water. But, my perfect bowl was too small to fit all the water in the pool. Some of it spilled out and was lost. In horror, I poured the water back into the pool.

There is a little less light reflected. There are fewer ripples.

Every time I look at the pool, I see the lack at the sides of the pool. The light and the ripples are a little less and always will be because of my own lack.

I made a mistake that I can never entirely fix.

I mourn for the pool I damaged.

Not looking at the pool anymore wouldn’t help. Changing the pool again to try to ease my pain would only cause more pain. Deciding that it is in the past and I should be happy with what is here now would be a deception.

I have to live with the knowledge that I broke something that cannot be fixed. I have to feel the pain every time I gaze at the pool because it is a part of loving the pool as it really is.

Being brave is not turning that pain into suffering by punishing myself nor is it ignoring what I did by re-framing reality for my own comfort. Feeling it fully and continually offering compassion is the only way to keep from dimming the light further.

Photo credit: sparkyuk99 flikr

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NaBloPoMo November 2014

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*There is a trigger warning on this post for child abuse, trauma, and suicide ideation. Please be gentle with yourself before deciding to read on.

Silence and Stillness

I stopped writing.

But before that, I stopped a lot of other things. I stopped going to acupuncture then chiropractic then massage then yoga then meditation. I stopped feeling my body.

I blocked out the fact that I was avoiding my physical sensations by eating and, when it kept coming up in unfinishable posts, I stopped speaking online and in real life.

I became touched-out more quickly with the kids. Breastfeeding, especially tandeming, would become intolerable for me if they went on for what felt like too long.

I started having trouble with rage. When one of the boys caused pain to one of their brothers or to me, I became angry. I was so angry, that it turned into rage because I was terrified of the enormity of the angry feelings. I felt out of control and that I would never be able to stop feeling this anger.

There’s a point in recovering from blocked childhood memories of sadistic sexual abuse when confronting the intertwined issues of pain, love, pleasure, and shame well up. There is intense guilt within me that I kept going back for years when it would have been easy to turn away. No one was watching out for me, so there wouldn’t have been anyone to care if I just didn’t go back to him.

But, I wanted to go back. I liked the feeling of being needed and depended upon. I took emotional and physical pleasure in being given pain and punishment. And that’s where it gets tricky because I am supposed to hate every moment of abuse, aren’t I?

But, I don’t. I’m free of him now. But, I still have to deal with the intensely personal ways that I responded to his perversions.

I don’t need reminding that none of what happened was my fault. I understand full and well the power dynamic and manipulations that I was placed in.

I also know that I am not a victim. I am a survivor with injuries that I am just noticing now. They have had my entire adult life to grow and twist themselves around all aspects of my life.

My journey has nothing (repeat that: nothing) to do with the man who did those things to me.

My journey has everything to do with teasing apart the threads woven through each other. For every thread I pick out, it disturbs the rest of the weaving. Until they, or more precisely I, return to stillness.

Because stillness is the only place I’ve found that provides safety and distance. Stillness allows me to completely open to every horrifying detail and embrace them with love.

Shame, I love you.

Pain, I embrace you.

Me, I will never leave you unprotected.

In January, I stopped struggling. I went deep and became still. I began hugging the rage and my fear of the rage. I began the process of forgiving. By doing nothing. I had to let everything go.

I feared my blog would flounder. So, I imagined it doing so and let it go. I feared I would scream horrible things at my children and break them forever. So, I imagined myself saying every horrible word and their breaking. I imagined death, decay, and an ending to everything I love.

I wept. I railed. I became still. And I repeated this cycle over the month. I confronted my worst fears (at least the ones I know about right now) and allowed them to consume me. Then, I came out the otherside.

I found giving to be my answer.

Can I give everything? Can I be consumed?

Because that question is the heart of what holds me back from allowing unconditional love. I’m afraid of the intense, raw need that young children have-and I refer to the young children I’m parenting and the ones inside. Any time I feel touched out emotionally or physically, it’s because I’m pulling back from being consumed entirely.

So, I’ll be playing this month with stillness, being consumed, rage, and fear. I’m also remembering the real comfort I find when I allow myself to be still while everything bangs away on my pots and climbs all over my body.

Amidst this sound and fury, the cracks have let a small light in just when I was no longer attached to expecting hope and love.

It’s funny how the teacher arrives only when the student is ready.

It’s good to be back. I’ve missed you.


How was your January? Did you write anything last month that you would like to share? Feel free to leave it in the comments and I’ll pop over for some comment love.

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Scared child

Image via Wikipedia

Want to know what happens when I don’t have the internet to distract me? Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I spent almost four days offline for Screen-Free Week. I also didn’t  schedule any posts because silly me thought I’d be my usual prolific self and I’d return online with more posts than I knew what to do with. I try to have a post up every two days. So, here I am panicking because it’s been two days since my last post and I got nuthin’. I haven’t written anything.

I have a bad feeling about this

I decided to meditate with a playful mind  on why I wasn’t writing. And I discovered I was choking on something that had to get out before I could write anything else. It was all this stuff.

When I was in my teens and early twenties, I starved myself because it was a way of controlling my emotions. I smoked a pack of cigarettes and drank a six pack of diet cokes a day. Maybe I would eat something if I thought I was going to faint. How my body also allowed me to be a runner, I’ll never know. But, it did rebel in other ways. I became amenorrheic, had a chronic cough, frequent migraines, panic attacks, depression, and risk-taking behavior. I was trying to live fast and get rid of everything because I didn’t believe I would be around to enjoy it for very long anyway. Actually, I was hoping I wouldn’t be around for very long to enjoy it.

I find your lack of faith disturbing

The end of my twenties into my thirties is a blur of something that must have been depression, but I honestly, I can’t remember much of anything about those years. I seems like one whiny ennui fit sprinkled with a few events like getting married and training to be a yoga teacher (for those from my real life reading this, please forgive me if I’m not mentioning anything else of significance during those years. It is not meant as disrespect)

Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering

I began accumulating. I went from one project to the next to find something to catch my interest long enough to snap out of whatever had me in its jaws. Nothing did-except the Yoga. But, that comes in at the end (or is it the beginning?) Yoga stuck with me in its various forms. It waited for me to visit periodically to dip a toe into its vast pool of knowledge.

Then, I got stress fractures in my pelvis and thigh bone from overtraining for marathons. So, I gave up running and kept looking for the new “fix” to add. I also accumulated clothes because I was steadily outgrowing them. I had long ago quit the smoking, diet cokes, etc for organic fare. But, I was eating a lot of food, even while I was exercising and was physically, at least, healthy.

I had four children between 2006 and 2010. So, (and I really hate thinking this) I may have originally decided to have a child in order to fill me up and keep me busy. That idea certainly was corrected quickly once I became a mom.

But, here’s the funny thing. Those kids actually did the trick. Durn those kids, they have a way of making you face things you’d rather not! It’s taken five years for my thick head to get the message, but I finally think I may be sticking around for awhile. I’m finally taking the action of inaction. I don’t enjoy PPDemons and I’m tired of creating busy work to avoid them. Accumulating is not filling me up, it’s pinning me down.

Clear your mind must be, if you are to discover the real villains behind this plot

I’ve written about it here before and I’ll write about it again, I’m sure. I’ve been sitting with thoughts and feelings for three months instead of busily collecting the next new thing to distract me. For all the previous months that I “officially” had PPD, I was getting help, but it hasn’t been until the PPDemons started clearing out that I am able to see the clutter for what it really is.

When I have to face feelings, I feel like I’m going to break apart and scatter away in the wind. I don’t feel stable and centered enough to weather the inconstancies of life. The things I’ve accumulated are physical symbols I can point to and feel tied to the earth by. The experiences I’ve acquired are memories that prove I have substance to be here. My physical size literally surrounds my core being and keeps me weighted to the ground. I bump into things. I have to move my body around objects. I exist. I am real and solid. I can prove it. I have validity even when I can’t give myself permission to be here.

That’s a bit more to deal with than joining Weight Watchers or hiring a professional organizer to come in and toss my junk.

Do or Do Not, There is No Try

Now that I understand why I have all of this around myself, I can compassionately look at my body. I can compassionately look at my messy house.

Here’s where the Yoga comes in: Every time I look at a messy corner, I realize I’m looking at my Self. Every time I have to suck it in to button my jeans, I realize I’m buttoning in my Self. Not even the cruelest person in the world could say things to me that are as mean as what I think about myself.

My work in meditation is to delatch from the clutter I have created around my Self . I am recognizing that letting go of these things, gently and with self-compassion, will not cause me to fly apart. Just like I am not my thoughts and feelings, I am also not the things I have accumulated.

 Luke, I am Your Father

And Now for a bit of Parenting, because I always reflect upon how my examined and unexamined experiences enlighten mothering moments. With three little boys running around I sometimes feel overwhelmed and anxious. It is much the same feeling I have when I think about tackling my household clutter. I am not accumulating children, although that is a thought that makes me extremely uncomfortable for why I may have originally begun this parenting journey (always a red flag that something is unresolved to me) But, I find a tendency to want to buy them things or find a new activity that may keep them occupied and thus I won’t have to deal with them while feeling overwhelmed. See that pattern there?

Part of the reason I wanted to try out Screen-free Week was to declutter that mind-space and see if I could handle it. The kids don’t even have much screen-time as it is.  The idea of not having the option to use the tv was too much for me, even though we only watch one PBS show at breakfast and one PBS show or a movie at night. But, the real kicker was not being able to escape into words at the end of the day. It accumulated and by this morning, I was overwhelmed. Things I normally would have been more compassionate about were bothering me and I had an argument with my husband. I was short tempered with the kids and unmindful of their feelings. And I know it was because I was keeping my parenting anxieties bottled up instead of dealing with them. I hadn’t realized just how much I was pouring into my reading and writing until it was gone.

I had been worried about how the kids would do without the television so much that I didn’t consider how much being without my electronic outlet would affect me. I’m almost to the compassion tipping point for myself and once I’m there, I’ll be able to let it go. Then, I’ll get on to finding a balance between my need for versus my attachment to words.

And I know that I have unconditional love to receive from the outside until I can receive it from the inside.

The Force will be with you, always

In addition to meditating on my cluttered heart, I will also be addressing my Star Wars addiction.

Yoga Sutras: 1.3 and 1.4:

1.3 Then the Seer abides in Itself, resting in its own True Nature, which is called Self-realization.
(tada drashtuh svarupe avasthanam)

1.4 At other times, when one is not in Self-realization, the Seer appears to take on the form of the modifications of the mind field, taking on the identity of those thought patterns.
(vritti sarupyam itaratra)

  • tada = then, at that time; at the time of concentration and meditation
  • drashtuh = the seer’s, of the soul, witness, Atman, Self; from the root drsh, which means to see (It is significant to note that Patanjali is not trying to define who is the seer, or the nature of that seer. This is left to be answered or resolved in direct experience.)
  • svarupe = in its own nature, own form  or essence; (sva = own; rupa = form)
  • avasthanam = stability, settling, remaining, being in a state, resting, standing, lying, abiding; the root stha means to stand
  • vritti = of the operations, activities, fluctuations, modifications, changes, or various forms (of the mind-field)
  • sarupyam = similarity, assimilation, appearance of, identification of form or nature, conformity with the shape of; the root sa means with, and rupa means form
  • itaratra = elsewhere, at other times, when not in that state of realization above

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