epiphany
Well, hello, internets. Guess I took a little break. I'm doing fine, though tending toward an even more intense degree of sensitivity than usual. I deal with this every year as spring explodes, and again as the first summery days descend like a massive cresting wave of hyper-beauty, sucking me under the onslaught of smells and sounds and memories. Usually I get pretty distressingly self-destructive. This year I've mostly just had to avoid or cut short any potentially overwhelming social engagements, though damned if I haven't also hit the Ben and Jerry's with unusual frequency. And fervor. How about that Karamel Sutra people? My, my, my my my.
Anyway, I think that old familiar wave is rolling back into the sea. And it's been a gorgeous spring out this way, and I'm glad of it. It's a joy and a real comfort to have G at home this year, and I find that taking walks with him, or even just enjoying the porch while he works at his computer inside, is much easier on my system. Doing most things with him tends to smooth out my experience, actually. And last week I spent some quality time with two different dear old (female) friends, which also bolstered me tremendously. One-on-one time with the right people seems to sew me up, as opposed to the canon ball-to-the-gut effect of group or (god help me) family encounters.
Okay, seriously - must learn some techniques for knitting up the ol' aura at will. Or perhaps for remembering or being willing to do so. I can do that during readings pretty reliably. And at other times when I know I have to stay cool. Why not just apply that skill more often? I think it has to do with not wanting to be "too strong," an obsolete holdover from the troubled past. I'll have to ponder this some more.
But speaking of the obsolescence of old tools, I've had an epiphany this morning. Actually, it may have been more of a slow-dawning, pathetically resisted but inevitable insight which forced its way into my consciousness like tree roots cracking the sidewalk: I need to find ways to be grateful to my mother. The topic of parenting has come up with unsettling frequency lately in conversations with friends, and I can simply no longer deny how talking about my experience with my own parents, especially my mother, makes me feel. I want to take more responsibility for the kind of experience I invite into my life, and walk away from the negativity. The "facts" of my past just don't matter that much anymore.
Since suffering what could only have been what's called a nervous breakdown at age seventeen, I have felt compelled to enunciate the major points of my family background at every marginally suitable opportunity, as if to explain to the world why I'm this way. As if to apologize. It's time to stop explaining myself, it's certainly time to stop apologizing, and I could really stand to leave my poor mother alone energetically, as well. She's had a hard time of it. She needs support.
This is where gratitude comes in. Mostly what I've come to on that front (until today) is that I'm glad she didn't beat, physically torture, or kill me. Of course, I've also become increasingly aware over the years that my circumstances, difficult though they were, made me who I am in all the good ways, too. Sure, I've had some residual difficulties: the coping strategies I learned to employ have not exactly been allies in the long term. But when I think through my strengths, I can see pretty clearly where they came from. Through the more painful aspects of my experience, I learned to forgive anyone for anything, and to understand that we're all doing our best with what we have. I learned that Love doesn't just come from others. I always managed to find whatever strength I needed. And eventually, I recognized the Source of Love within.
Those are some pretty great gifts. So who cares what manner of crap they were wrapped in? Maybe that was just the most direct delivery system available. I absolutely believe that my spirit chose it, in any case. So why cling to the bitterness? Why even bother to spell out how I came to whatever wisdom I may now enjoy? Is it in fact wisdom, or some sort of personal conquest? Much different! Well, here I am now. And the negative side of all this is beginning to evaporate. I hope I can let it go quickly. It no longer serves me, and it's beginning to feel false and encumbering.
I need to do some reframing, and I need a jump start. So today, I'm making a point to remember the good stuff. Not just the not bad stuff, or the stuff that was so bad it was metaphysically good. For instance, my mother taught me to listen to my gut. She gave me direct instruction on this, and for that I am very grateful. She also taught me expressly that being a little weird was highly preferable to trying to be like everybody else. Again--very cool of her. And when she was around friends she loved and felt comfortable with, she laughed often and generously, gushed gratitude and praise for every small gesture, made yummy noises, and sang her little heart out. Wow - I learned a lot of good stuff from watching my mother. And holy crap--this feels great.
Anyway, I think that old familiar wave is rolling back into the sea. And it's been a gorgeous spring out this way, and I'm glad of it. It's a joy and a real comfort to have G at home this year, and I find that taking walks with him, or even just enjoying the porch while he works at his computer inside, is much easier on my system. Doing most things with him tends to smooth out my experience, actually. And last week I spent some quality time with two different dear old (female) friends, which also bolstered me tremendously. One-on-one time with the right people seems to sew me up, as opposed to the canon ball-to-the-gut effect of group or (god help me) family encounters.
Okay, seriously - must learn some techniques for knitting up the ol' aura at will. Or perhaps for remembering or being willing to do so. I can do that during readings pretty reliably. And at other times when I know I have to stay cool. Why not just apply that skill more often? I think it has to do with not wanting to be "too strong," an obsolete holdover from the troubled past. I'll have to ponder this some more.
But speaking of the obsolescence of old tools, I've had an epiphany this morning. Actually, it may have been more of a slow-dawning, pathetically resisted but inevitable insight which forced its way into my consciousness like tree roots cracking the sidewalk: I need to find ways to be grateful to my mother. The topic of parenting has come up with unsettling frequency lately in conversations with friends, and I can simply no longer deny how talking about my experience with my own parents, especially my mother, makes me feel. I want to take more responsibility for the kind of experience I invite into my life, and walk away from the negativity. The "facts" of my past just don't matter that much anymore.
Since suffering what could only have been what's called a nervous breakdown at age seventeen, I have felt compelled to enunciate the major points of my family background at every marginally suitable opportunity, as if to explain to the world why I'm this way. As if to apologize. It's time to stop explaining myself, it's certainly time to stop apologizing, and I could really stand to leave my poor mother alone energetically, as well. She's had a hard time of it. She needs support.
This is where gratitude comes in. Mostly what I've come to on that front (until today) is that I'm glad she didn't beat, physically torture, or kill me. Of course, I've also become increasingly aware over the years that my circumstances, difficult though they were, made me who I am in all the good ways, too. Sure, I've had some residual difficulties: the coping strategies I learned to employ have not exactly been allies in the long term. But when I think through my strengths, I can see pretty clearly where they came from. Through the more painful aspects of my experience, I learned to forgive anyone for anything, and to understand that we're all doing our best with what we have. I learned that Love doesn't just come from others. I always managed to find whatever strength I needed. And eventually, I recognized the Source of Love within.
Those are some pretty great gifts. So who cares what manner of crap they were wrapped in? Maybe that was just the most direct delivery system available. I absolutely believe that my spirit chose it, in any case. So why cling to the bitterness? Why even bother to spell out how I came to whatever wisdom I may now enjoy? Is it in fact wisdom, or some sort of personal conquest? Much different! Well, here I am now. And the negative side of all this is beginning to evaporate. I hope I can let it go quickly. It no longer serves me, and it's beginning to feel false and encumbering.
I need to do some reframing, and I need a jump start. So today, I'm making a point to remember the good stuff. Not just the not bad stuff, or the stuff that was so bad it was metaphysically good. For instance, my mother taught me to listen to my gut. She gave me direct instruction on this, and for that I am very grateful. She also taught me expressly that being a little weird was highly preferable to trying to be like everybody else. Again--very cool of her. And when she was around friends she loved and felt comfortable with, she laughed often and generously, gushed gratitude and praise for every small gesture, made yummy noises, and sang her little heart out. Wow - I learned a lot of good stuff from watching my mother. And holy crap--this feels great.
posted by eliza | 6:14 AM
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7 comments
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