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The Way Through...

5/31/2022

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The Way Through…
Is with presence.  With breath.  With showing up.  Steadily, consistently, slowly… one moment at a time.  One breath at a time. 

As long as your heart is beating.  As long as you breathe.  There is hope.  You are here.  You can be part of a better tomorrow.  In whatever way you are called. 

So much pain surrounds us, bombards us, ceaselessly, endlessly, an onslaught of horror and devastating destruction beating our tender hearts.  We may even feel numb to it at times – our systems simply can’t take in any more.  This is a brilliant, inherent form of self-protection.  We are not meant to live in stress 24/7, and yet that is what our world offers us. 

Each of us has particular causes that tug at our hearts, keep us awake at night.  Many have so many causes pulling at us that we feel stuck, spinning, uncertain of what to do or where to even try to do something that matters. 

We may feel guilty that we aren’t doing enough.  That we’re not on the front lines, protesting, marching, directly supporting survivors.  We look at other people and feel inadequate.  We feel the weight of the need and the impossibility of holding it up ourselves.  The demand is intense, and perhaps, at times, in our sense of not-enoughness, we collapse.  We surrender in defeat and don’t even do the one thing that we could do.

Sometimes we need beautiful, vital self-compassion or tender care for our hurting, depleted souls. Understandably, we need a break.  Sometimes we stay silent because our voice feels too small, our words ineloquent, our knowledge lacking.  Sometimes we pretend we’re ok and we soldier on, because we think that’s what we’re supposed to do.

Often, we don’t ask for help.  We forget there are others feeling exactly as we do, and that together we are stronger.  Together we are a force that can move mountains.  We are impatient and want results right away, so we forget to notice the tiny steps of hope and progress. 

We may not even know what to do.  So, begin with presence.  Allow yourself to get quiet and still so you can hear the inner guidance.  Ask a question, “What would you have me know?” whether that’s to Love. God, the Universe, or your own heart or soul.  Ask, “What is mine to do?”  Is there an action you feel called toward?  Whether it feels enough or not, what is part of your mission in this life?  What can you offer? 

If you are depleted, then first rest.  Fill yourself up.  You cannot give when you are not abundantly filled.  Do this with complete permission and lack of guilt.  We need you restored.  This rest will benefit everyone.  There are many who share your concerns.  We can take turns showing up. 
The one thing I am certain of is that it is our job to make it through.  To find our way to what’s next.  I don’t know if there is “another side” to the pain you’re feeling right now, but I do know there’s another day and a natural, messy, complex evolution.  I know for certain that things in this moment will change.  For better or for worse?  I don’t know. 

We transform meaningless pain into meaningful pain when we offer our heart’s gifts to the world.  Whether the heart touches one other person who needs your words or gentle caress or you touch millions with your words and actions, it does not matter.  What matters is that you find your way.  Your expression.  Your next teeny tiny or gigantic step. 

Along the way allow yourself to feel everything that you feel.  Sometimes all at once.  Our hearts can hold it all.  Our souls know how to be with extreme opposites.  You don’t need to deny moments of joy in favor of heartache – invite them both in.  You don’t need to push down the outrage that is screaming to be unleashed. 

You are well-resourced to find ways to feel, to release, to express as part of the healing and growing journey we are each on.  When you feel not well-resourced, reach out.  Get help.  Invite people into your life who can help you find your next breath or your next step. 

Let go of expectation.  Stop comparing yourself to what others are doing.  You have your own way.  Your own way of dealing.  Your own way of helping.  Your own way of healing.  And your own way of difference-making. 

Some are on the front line, marching, protesting, shouting. Some will run for office.  Some will write letters and send money.  Some will offer practices that nourish and nurture others.  Some will write poems or posts that speak to the hearts of someone else.  Some will offer food, shelter, blankets, and clothes filled with love.  Others will silently send their loving kindness meditation and their prayers out into the world.  Every bit of it matters.  Stop comparing and judging.  We need it all. 

What’s your way through?  Where will you begin in this moment?  What is it that your heart, soul, mind, and body need right now?  How filled up are you?  Do you need to step away to be recharged?  (We offer our phone that luxury – let’s offer it to ourselves!).  Do you need to reach out and connect with someone to help or be helped?  In different moments each of these things is a valid response.  Each one will feel right at times. 

Whatever you do, begin with breath. Begin with love.  Come into your doing from the heart, holding an intention of highest and best.  Begin with care and compassion for yourself so these are the energies you exude out into the world.  If you are not filled with these qualities, you will find yourself burned out, resentful, bitter, and that is what will bleed into even your best-intentioned offerings. 

Love, what would you have me know this day?  That is the question that’s alive in my heart.  This is the place from which I long to be led.  And so, I ask. 

In response I hear, “My dear, this is a painful time.  Your heart is breaking – again.  It breaks over and over with every death and every senseless act of violence.  It breaks when you hear the despair.  Your soul feels the pain of loss, for all the families.  Your heart is tender.  Care for it and then offer love.  Send it out in waves – through your writing and through your prayers.  You will know when there is another action to take.  For now, let this be enough.  I am with you.  I love you.” 

Here's a meditation "The Way Through" to support you.  


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Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief

1/18/2022

6 Comments

 
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I intended to write a blog last week.  I wanted to.   I intended to record a meditation.  I wanted to. I did.  And, I just didn’t have it in me.  Somehow time went by and I hadn’t done it, day after day.  That’s what’s true.  I wish I could have pushed through and maybe even inspired myself in the process, but I just didn’t feel like it.  I am trying to be gentle with myself with this thing that has inhabited my being for the past few weeks, surprising me with how and when it hits in a way that just takes me down. 

I was going to write about moving with grief, living with grief, being with grief… because that’s what I felt like I was doing last week.  I had the good fortune of tapping into a gift practice that Paul Denniston of Grief Yoga had shared with his email list the day before Mary died – Grief Dancer.   I practiced two days in a row (surely, that’s enough, right!?)… I cried, I laughed, I looked at Mary’s picture, I said her name out loud, I dedicated the practice to her and I let myself sob and bring up what had been pushed down.  I felt like I was doing a pretty good job being with my grief in a world that doesn’t do this well.  I talked to a couple of people who I hadn’t already burdened with my story, because I don’t want to weigh anyone down with hearing the same thing over and over, when there’s nothing new to say.

One Day of Grief (Yesterday) 
Damn, this grief stuff can be very lonely.  I wish I lived in a community that knew how to grieve together.  I wish I had people I could spontaneously call and just cry or vent with.  I probably do, but when I feel like this it’s hard to find the energy to figure out who that might be or to have the resilience to deal with needing to schedule a time, with voice mails or unanswered calls. 
And so I turn to my writing… because reliably and consistently this is an outlet for my heart to express what’s going on.  To discover this myself as it pours itself onto the page.  I know there isn’t a person out there who can really hold this with me in a way that will feel satisfying because there are no words to describe the ache within. 

I tried to sit down to meditate, and I wanted to explode.  My whole being was way too agitated… being still wasn’t what I wanted or needed right then, but I didn’t really know what I wanted or needed so I headed outdoors to take a quick walk in the brisk wind.  I talked out loud to Mary, risking appearing to be a crazy person talking to myself.  I told her how pissed I am – not at her, but at so many things (and everything right now because that’s just what’s brewing in my belly and heart).  I’m pissed at the people downstairs who yell at their screaming kids all day and night.  I’m pissed at myself that I skipped yoga to take a phone call that didn’t even go well. I’m pissed that the cookie didn’t make everything ok.  I’m pissed that my husband can be in the guest room and laugh with a friend while I’m locking myself in my room and going through 4 tissues (even though yesterday I tucked myself away for several calls where I did laugh).

Today I feel a little jealous. And I feel sorry for myself.  I hate feeling sorry for myself.  I want to jump out of my own skin, but of course I can’t get away from me.  Can you see all the #@^& that I’m swimming in??  I’m pissed that I can’t call Mary.  I’m pissed that I feel so alone and don’t know where to turn to talk through the hard things coming my way.  I’m pissed at systems that are so messed up.  I’m pissed that so much is uncertain in the days and months ahead. I’m pissed at Covid and how it impedes my desire or ability to plan.  I’m just pissed.

Only it’s not just pissed because I’m also sad… really, really sad in a way I don’t remember feeling before though I’m pretty sure it’s familiar. Probably times I’ve blocked out of my memory.  Sad in a way that leaves me feeling lost and not caring that I’m lost.  Sad in a way that buckles me and takes away the light.  Sad in a way that just leaves me feeling flat and like I just don’t care… but that’s not true. I care very much about so many things and people. 


“Grief can have a quality of profound healing because we are forced to a depth of feeling that is usually below the threshold of awareness. “ – Stephen Levine

It’s confusing, this grief thing… It eats away at me at times and other times it’s a silent resident, letting me live a more normal life.  I can play cards, eat meals, go to the beach and enjoy the playful dogs, I can talk with my husband and friends.  At times I can even get out of my own stuff and listen to them.  But not always.  And I worry about being a burden. I worry that no one wants to hear this.  I worry that they’ll dread my calls or texts.  So, I keep it to myself until someone asks and then it comes leaking out or gushing out – depends on the day.  Put me in a space with a tender loving heart, and I lose it.  If someone could actually hug me, I don’t know what that would do – melt me, support me, or break me.  It wouldn’t break me, but I might just have a big old ugly cry for a long, long time. If I actually had the space to do that. 

Lots of the time I feel numb and flat.  Not sad but not happy or inspired.  Just here.  Existing.  Getting by.  Taking one step at a time – left foot, right foot, as my friend Steve says.  And maybe that’s all we can do in this world called grief.  Keep on slogging forward, feeling alone, but knowing we’re not because we know there are others grieving along with us.  We try to find inspiration.  We try to find healing.  On my way back from my chilly walk I picked up the mail – Healing Through Yoga: Transform Loss into Empowerment by Paul Denniston is waiting for me.  I smile wryly at my ongoing pattern of thinking someone else has an answer for me – thinking it’s “out there” in some book, podcast, social media group, or program.  I keep searching, even though I know that this is a time when the real work is an inner journey. There is no magical anything out there that will make this any easier or quicker.

I know there’s no easy fix. I know that the only way to heal is to feel. I know I have to move through this, one icky bit at a time.  And I know it sucks.  No one can take this pain from me and maybe I don’t even want them to.  I don’t know what I want.  I want my person back.  Beyond that… I just don’t know. 

Joyful Ease(?)
Today I had signed up for a workshop on Joyful Ease – I log in even though I’m not feeling it. Maybe I’ll get a little something.  Mostly I don’t.  I can’t really connect with the idea of joy so coming up with a plan for how to bring joy in each day just doesn’t land.  I’m tired after those 90 minutes.  So, I lie down.  I close my eyes and give the weight of my body to the bed… this feels nourishing.  I rest but don’t quite sleep. It’s weird because I can feel the relaxation in most of my body yet inside there’s still an energy that feels like a trapped wild animal.  I want to scream until I have no voice, but I am aware that there are people around. I could scream into a pillow… and I can’t even gather the energy to do that.  So, I lie here… I rest. I take a break and I do relish a brief period of peace and quiet.  Momentarily the furnace muffles the ticking clock. Blessedly the screaming kids and yelling parents from downstairs go away for a while. I can breathe.  The hours have ticked by and somehow, I’ve made it through another chunk of time.  Another day is almost over. I feel wrung out.  And, somehow, I did it. I made it.  One moment at a time. Maybe I did find some degree of joyful ease within the pain. 

Stages of Grief
The “stages of grief” aren’t something we move through in a linear way. They are not things we can experience once and check off the box.  They come in and out and overlap.  My husband came to talk with me while I was in the midst of all of this today and together, we looked them up and tried to identify where I am in this moment… seems like I’m swimming around in denial, bargaining, depression, and anger right now according to this chart.  The first week as I learned the end was near the denial was intense.  There have been moments of acceptance, but not peaceful acceptance.  Acceptance as in, “OK. I know she’s gone. I know I can’t pick up the phone and call her. I know there are no more days ahead when we will laugh or play together.”  But not acceptance that comes with ease. 

Today…
All of that was written just yesterday – less than 24 hours ago.  That’s important to note because it highlights impermanence – the truth that nothing lasts.  Nothing.  Not the way you feel right now.  Not the way you see the world. Not the weather.  When we stay awake and aware we can remember that and lean into it with confidence.  Not as a panacea, but as a gentle reminder to hang in there when it feels like we can’t. 

Today I woke up feeling some of the residue of yesterday’s slog, but not nearly the heaviness that I was carrying then.  The sun coming up each day sometimes annoys me, because it feels like the world should stand still when you’re facing a loss such as this; mostly it reassures me by reminding me of the natural rhythm of things, of one thing we can count on day in and day out.  Today it reminded me that I could begin again this day. 

I get to choose how to greet each moment. I set my intention to be gentle with myself. I get to choose to not skip yoga, but to do the recorded version so that I can talk to my son when he calls and then finish my practice which feels like the best of both worlds.

Today I can talk with my son about what I didn’t like about yesterday’s conversation, what troubles me, what I need us to do differently going forward.  Today we can talk it through, and I can hear his perspective that wasn’t nearly as dire as mine. 

I can see that it wasn’t any one thing that set me off yesterday. It was a collection of many things.  Missing my boys and wishing we could talk more easily and often.  Missing my friends and the ease of being together.  Grateful for Zoom, but so tired of this way of having to be together.  Remembering that Covid has put an ongoing level of stress and feeling unsafe on all of us as it’s added a layer of complexity and contemplation that makes daily life exhausting.  Grief.  Loneliness.  Angst.  It all came together in a perfect storm.  And, I was able to ride it out in my own imperfect way. 

Today I can see all of the many things I could have done yesterday to help me cope better or maybe to move through all of the struggle more easily.  I have a ton of practices and tools that support me.  And I see that I didn’t want to use any of them.  On some level I knew that I needed to wade through the swampiness yesterday.  I needed to cry.  I needed to rest.  I needed to let myself be miserable. It was part of my healing.  It was part of the journey.  I knew I was ok even as much as I didn’t like it.  It reminds me that I can live through moments that feel unbearable.  It reminds me of the ground upon which I stand that knows it’s not about jumping over the hard stuff to get to the good feels again.  I don’t want to go for the silver lining or even relief too soon. Yesterday there was no comforting me, and that’s ok. 

Together
I don’t even know if I should share this with you. I worry that you’ll worry about me or think I’ve fallen apart beyond repair (I can say with confidence that I haven’t).  After talking with a lovely colleague yesterday about the value of being REAL, I’m going to hit “publish” in hopes that maybe it will resonate with someone.  Maybe someone out there needs to hear one little bit of this.  Maybe there’s some value in what I have to offer.  I know there’s value for me in getting it out of my head and being able to take it in in black and white.  Maybe one grieving heart will connect with my words and feel a little less alone or misunderstood.  Maybe, just maybe, we will grieve together for a moment.  If this is you, I’m sending love your way.  You do not walk alone.  We are in this messy human life together.  

​Want a little further reflection on grief?  I invite you to read my last post, Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace.  


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Out of the Darkness...Into the Light

12/21/2021

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As I revisit and revise this post, originally written for MomPower last year, I am sitting with some fresh, raw, and very deep sadness.  I am grateful to re-read this message and take it into my own heart as I sit with myself with tears streaming down my face. 

​Today marks the winter solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere.  On this darkest day of the year, the pivotal moment between dark and light, it is the perfect time to honor the darkness that has come into our lives.  It is a time to honor those who have been lost and to remember them with love.  It is a time to honor the struggle and the perseverance of those who are on a challenging journey and to honor ourselves and other loved ones who have also found a way through the darkness. 

In honoring the darkness and in grieving the losses we have endured, we bring those moments into the light.  When we bring them into the light, they are no longer hiding in the shadows, lurking in shame, or hidden in silence.  We claim and name our experience.  We see it for what it has been.  We presence it. 

When we do this, we are able to step forward into the light.  Just as the days begin to get longer with a bit more light from tomorrow on, we too can begin to bring more light into our homes and our beings. 

Addiction, cancer, mental illness (to name a few) are painful diseases, as you undoubtedly know.  They affect everyone in their wake and can take down entire families with the weight of suffering. 

However (and this is a big however), the journey from darkness to light does not have to take us out forever.  It is possible to find hope, joy, peace, love, and to create a brighter tomorrow, even when we have been impacted by a loved one's disease. 

If you are reading this, you are alive, and for that fact alone there is reason to celebrate.  You have been given the opportunity to live one more day.  What will you do with this one precious life you have been given?  How will you set your soul free to express itself?  What is uniquely yours to do?

Is there some way to honor your journey up to this very moment--the good, the bad, and the ugly, the full messiness of it all?  The painful, the joyous, the fearfulness, and the hope?  Whatever it’s looked like in the past, today marks a new day, albeit a short one.  Tomorrow offers the light of fresh possibility, as each day does.  How do you want to step into tomorrow? 

If we are able to find a way to turn our pain (or darkness) into possibility (or light), we can transform these heavy experiences into something that serve and support us and others.  We can show up for life more fully.  We can become who we were born to be. With each loss I experience I also experience a fresh resolve to live this life even more fully. 

Let’s face it, the past 2 years have carried a full load of darkness, collectively, along with anything that you might have experienced personally. 

For many the holidays are emotionally-charged times and may bring in a healthy mix of emotions… sadness, joy, celebration, loneliness. I know I will be feeling both sadness for those who are not with us during this holiday season as well as joy and gratitude for those who are. 

There is room for it all.  When we allow ourselves to feel it all, to allow our hearts to carry this messy mix of what makes us human, we are able to move through it. 

“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” ~ Brene Brown
 
So, let this pivotal day be a day that marks the honoring of both the dark and the light.  Let us take a step back and look at the big picture of our lives and recognize that our experiences have not been all good or all bad, but rather a mix of both. 

These diseases can entomb us with their heavy cloak of darkness if we let them, but we can choose to lift up the corner of that cloak and peek outside.  We can lay down the heaviness and step into the light.  We get to choose. 

We may well prefer the moments of lightness, light-heartedness, and light in general, but there is also a gift to receive during the dark and challenging times.  We must be willing to sit with this part of our reality if we are to truly enjoy the light. 

I have found that it is in the dark where I have grown the most.  I wonder if that might be true for you as well.  I offer you this poem for consideration.  

The Places We Grow
It’s in the dark,
in the shadows,
where we stretch and grow.
 
We face ourselves
and see a new or forgotten aspect,
a piece we’d rather ignore or deny.
 
But there it is…
staring us down,
daring us to change,
to find a new way,
or to simply come into acceptance.
 
Sometimes it’s about overcoming
or adjusting.
Finding a way to do this with
love, compassion,
and gentle communion.
 
Honoring the self…
who I am,
where I am,
what I need,
what my baggage is.
 
And stepping into a deeper layer,
excavating and shifting,
allowing new light in,
and new hope out.
 
These are the places we grow –
often watered
and nourished with tears.
 © Barb Klein, 2016, “The Places We Grow,” from 111 Invitations: Step into the Full Richness of Life
 
Where and how can you nourish yourself today?  How might you allow some new light in--to your being, to your life?  How can you allow a little more hope to shine into the world? 
 
Begin by greeting yourself exactly where you are--gently, with tenderness, care, and compassion.  Offer yourself the space and grace to feel into what’s alive within your heart at this moment.  Ask your heart what it needs at this moment to be truly nurtured and nourished.  Then respond accordingly.  You deserve your own loving care.
 
We are on the cusp of a new year and we can only hope that 2022 is bringing with it new possibility, hope, and fresh beginnings.  Today let’s pause.  Let’s look at our lives and our loved ones with reverence. Let’s honor this journey where we have walked, crawled, and stumbled while we look ahead to the light of new creativity.  Let’s let this darkest day of the year—December 21-- be a personal pivotal moment for us to enter an illuminated future.  



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Human Happens... It's OK!

1/26/2021

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PictureGrumpy cat (weird for "Human Happens" I admit but this face... oh my!)
Remember that great book, “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?”  I think he did have a string of rotten things happen to him that had him dreaming of running away to Australia…  or maybe he just had a rotten day.  It happens. 

I found myself in a rotten foul mood for no good reason at all (but we think we need a reason, don’t we!?)  In fact, there were lots of reasons on that particular day that I “should” have been happy!  The sun was shining, I had nothing but a great day planned, my arm was pain-free for the first time in a long time, on and on and on…  And the fact that I “should” have been happy only made it worse that I really wanted to jump out of my own skin!  (that never goes well, by the way!)

My mind wanted to make sense of it (as minds do)… if I could understand it, then my brain could categorize it, and tuck it away neatly in a file as that reason for bad moods…  My self-care teacher self knew all of the things I COULD do to try to shift it, but I wanted nothing to do with any of them.  In fact, these are the times when I want to throw my own book across the room and I tell my own teachings to “F%$K off!”  My Buddhist teachings kicked in to remind me to just be with it.  That really didn’t feel great, but in the end, that’s the path I took. 

Being human is messy.  Life is messy.  Bad moods will come. Good moods will come.  Inspiration will rise up and at other times, like the other day, we will find ourselves flailing and floundering in the dark... feeling we have nothing to offer the world.  In those dark pit of ick moments it’s hard to see the way out and the last thing we want to hear is “This too shall pass…”  Will it!?  I’m sure it will, but right now, this is where I am – let me be! 

Even today as I reflected on it in my journaling, I noted that I am feeling “more like myself” with some small sense of relief.  Then I noticed the implied judgement in that…  as if “myself” is the one who is uplifting and inspired and feeling good… as if the me who is down, depressed, pissy, and just irritable for no good reason is not really me. 

Whew!  This being human is not for the faint of heart, especially if, like me, you love exploring this inner landscape which can get oh so messy and confusing at times! 

But what’s really important is for each of us to remember that human happens. Human isn’t always pretty, it isn’t always what we prefer, it includes all the feelings and all the thoughts and worries, and it can swoop in unexpected and uninvited.  When it does, what we do with it matters.  How we treat ourselves in these moments matters.

There is a movement out there that supports the idea that we should feel good all the time and that the goal is to get to that feel good state at all costs and as soon as possible.  This, my friends, is spiritual BS, spiritual bypassing.  Even if we buy into the idea that peace is our natural inherent state and that love is what we’re made of, we are still going to have terrible, rotten, no good days for no obvious reason.  And it is OK!! 

Self-care doesn’t mean do all the things so you can feel better as soon as possible. Self-care means sit with yourself, as you are in your current state of exhaustion, confusion, anger, sadness, or ugliness… that’s it. Just be with yourself there and give yourself tender loving care and acceptance.  OK, this is how it’s gonna be right now.  I don’t like it, but I’m willing to sit with this discomfort.  You’re not doing life wrong.  You’re not doing anything wrong.  You are simply being your very real, very vulnerable, very tender, open-hearted self.  Cause, damn it, the more open our hearts are, the more we will feel!  (I offer you this meditation – Befriending Yourself – to help you sit with yourself lovingly).

Now, might my bad mood be a natural after-effect from the happenings in the world, the relief and coming down after Wednesday’s inauguration and the end of an intensive 5-day training?  Might I have just simply hit a wall of exhaustion after 11 months of COVID?  Sure, maybe… And, who cares?  What I want to do is to normalize bad days.  To give each of us permission to just have a bad day… without apology, without explanation, without worry, without shame.  And, actually, to even expect them.  They are part of riding the waves…  it’s unsustainable to stay in the crest all the time. The dip, the fall, the drop will inevitably come, until the next swell. 

To think that we are “less than” on these days, that we should somehow apologize for ourselves, hide away, and pretend to be ok when we are not is the very opposite of loving self-care.  To put up a false front is to chop off a very real part of ourselves and that’s just cruel… 
​
Human happens.  You’re human.  I’m human.  It’s OK.  Some days are just like this.  This too shall pass…  (cue the throwing of the book or tomatoes, or whatever! 😊)

And, here's the secret and the truth... the more we are able to sit with these times of discomfort, to wait them out in all of their ickiness, the less we stay stuck in them.  We are better able to move through when we lean into what's here than when we try to stuff our feelings down, hide them away, or banish them from the building.  

Thoughts?  


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What a Month...

9/4/2019

4 Comments

 
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​What a month August was… in 31 days, I spent more days in places and experiences than I hope others experience in a lifetime – places where I felt alone and powerless and sad. Places where broken systems are anything but supportive and generate a sense of frustration and oppression.  Experiences that remind me I’m in a reality I certainly never imagined.

Places filled with fear, sadness, grief, and anxiety so thick you can feel it surrounding you as you enter the overflowing and slow-moving parking garage… places where no one wants to be. Places cloaked with the stench of sickness and the heaviness of despair – where people in white coats rush about and noises drone constantly.  You visit but don’t glean much information or hope.  Any day at the hospital is inherently draining. 

Places where I succumb to a search of my property and person even though I have committed no crime. I simply want to board a plane or love someone who is on the wrong side of the bars.  Places where those in uniform clearly hold the power, and it is most wise to suppress and succumb. 

Shopping for 6 whites, 6 socks, 6 boxers… alongside excited RIT and U of R students and their parents preparing for the upcoming school year and the promise it holds. I shop not for the hallowed halls of these institutions but for the stark concrete barricade of an institution of last choice and lost hope.  I hope you don’t know what this feels like, but if you do, know that you are not alone…

Phone calls that don’t simply ring through but require agonizing minutes of recorded messages along with so much button pushing… calls that cannot be answered on the fly and can’t be returned if you miss them. 

It’s been a month of epic highs, extreme lows and some flatline numbness.  Along with the places I’ve mentioned already, I’ve also had moments that blew me away with their beauty and wonder!

Leading retreat at the serene Himalayan Institute with a group of women who openly share their hearts; Camp is in Your Heart in the incredibly gorgeous Colorado Rocky Mountains with people who share inspiration, hope, and also struggle.  Guiding my sweet and wise Self-Care Sanctuary group through practices that nourish and sustain us and working with clients who are fully embracing their life and their strengths while facing their challenges… these are some of the highs.  I have also cherished quieter highs in times with my beloved or a dear friend, sharing simple moments of life as well as our dreams and fears. 

All of this has required me to walk between pretty open-hearted places (where I much prefer to be and how I really want to show up to life) and places where I’ve needed to armor up a bit, to protect my tender heart. It can be hard to dance back and forth between those two ways of being.

I’m generally a pretty optimistic positive person, and I have had more mornings than I’d like to admit that have begun with “I guess I’m ready to face the day.”  My practices are lucky if I don’t forget them, and I am fortunate when I have remembered…  they ground me.  Otherwise, my mind easily gets away from me into thoughts about the past or worries about the future. 

Why Share? 
Why share this with you?  Well, why not?  When I share, I no longer have to hold my story in silence and shame or fear of judgment.  As I share, each of you can lightly hold a piece of my story with me, which lightens the load on my heart.  I remember that I do not walk through this world alone. 

And, more importantly, maybe my sharing will allow you to open your heart and share yours. Each one of us has challenges and suffering that too often we try to bear alone.  Why?  What good does that do? 

If You are Hurting...  
If you’re hurting, please ask for help. Ask for listening.  Ask for support.  Ask for someone simply to walk with you through the pain.  And when you need it, ask for time to be alone.  But, always remember, you do not have to face this on your own. Whatever “this” is for you. 
​
Find practices that support and nourish your body, mind, heart, and soul.  Here are a few that have worked for me:
  • Gratitude – this is a keystone practice for me. I find it every day, in the smallest of moments and in things I might otherwise take for granted, even for tears and sad feelings. I find gratitude for being alive enough to notice. 
  • Yoga – it brings all of our parts into the same space, reminds us of a strength and flexibility we may not have been feeling, and gives our nervous system a chance to settle for a bit. 
  • Rest – getting all the rest we need and letting it be ok, knowing that it takes a lot of energy to go through hard times.
  • Nature – whether that be a walk among the trees, sitting on the grass staring up at the clouds or stars, or getting out on the lake… nature has its own soothing embrace that bathes our souls in its gentleness.  
  • Simple Joy – find simple pleasures and let yourself enjoy them.  Find laughter and play.  Movies and mindless TV have been part of my self-care – they transport me out of my own head, life, and story, and carry me away to another place and time, if only for a short while.  They help to shift my energy. 
        Have something to look forward to every day and also make plans for concerts, trips, and fun              times with those you love. 

                        Your life is still happening and you deserve to engage in it,
                                              even when circumstances are grim
.
 
  • Gentle yourself – (yes, I am intentionally using “gentle” as a verb – try it!) be very, very gentle with your tender, aching heart and lean into care, letting it be ok, releasing any harsh self-judgment. 
  • Simplify – eliminate the drudgery – avoid the tendency to treat your life as a chore.  Reschedule, delegate, and do what is absolutely required – the rest can and will wait.  Leave some (or a lot) of white space in your calendar; in hard times we need extra spaciousness and breathing room. 
Remember, even when things aren’t going well, you can still take time and find ways to take care of you so that you can live your life.  Where there is breath, there is hope.  If you’re reading this it’s safe to assume you are breathing.  Hold on to that hope and live YOUR life!  

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Sitting with Sadness

7/24/2019

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I woke up feeling super sad the other morning...and I don't really know why.  As I journaled with the grey rain falling down around me, the tears came, and I just let them.  As the day went on, I also spiraled into moments of frustration, anger, self-doubt, self-judgment - basically a messy stew of ickiness that I really don't like sitting in!  As I made up stories about why I was feeling this way, I knew they were just that - stories made up by me that weren't grounded in reality, but just a reflection of how shitty I was feeling, wanting to be able to place the blame somewhere, wanting to somehow make sense of this... 
 
Sitting with sadness… 
Can you sit with it?  Of course, you can, but who wants to?  I find myself having many other preferred feelings and an acute desire to jump out of my own skin and beyond the sadness into whatever’s next!  Anything is better than this lonely empty place.  Sometimes even anger is a welcome relief, simply to break up the dull ache.

And yet, if I can sit with my sadness when it’s here, this is part of coming home to myself. With love, with honesty, with kindness and compassion, and with integrity. With tears, with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, with all of my doubts and worries.  This IS self-care – the part we don’t often talk about.

When I can consciously sit with my sadness, I allow myself to sink into the feeling in my body – is it warm, heavy, tingly, spiky?  I let go of pretending that everything is fine. I let the tears flow.   I let go of the forced smile. 

I let go of the things I do to avoid feeling the sadness – you know, filling up my time with busy tasks, getting lost in social media hoping to find some true connection (oh, honey… this is not where you’ll find that!), housing that pint of Haagen Das (it really doesn’t even taste good), sleeping longer than I need to, or distracting myself basically in any way possible. 


Filling the Void... 
We all have our ways of seeking to fill that void.  Brené Brown talks about it as numbing and Jennifer Louden names these are our “shadow comforts.”  These things that we do take us away from the uncomfortable feeling.  They may even appear to be good choices at times, but they don’t really fill us up or nourish us.  In fact, they usually take us away from the things that truly would. 

And yet, all of this is part of being human.  We all go through these times, and it can be hard to know what to do with it.  I was talking with my friend, Mary, about this and she shared an experience of sitting with one of her young students whose feelings had been hurt.  She offered him this choice... did he want her to give him strategies to feel better or just let him be sad for as long as he needed to?  He chose to just feel sad... for about 5 minutes bawled his eyes out while she sat with him and gave him all the space he needed to feel exactly what he was feeling.  Then he was done.  Ready to move on.  What a gift Mary gave this little boy.  Too often we rush to find the "feel good" feeling again and skip over this part of our humanity.  Too often we try to make others feel better rather than just sitting with them. 

You are Not Alone... 
Does it suck?  Yup.  Does it mean there’s something wrong with you?  Not necessarily.  Are you alone when you're in this place?  No.  It sure felt that way to me that morning, and yet in reality, I was not.  I found a couple of friends who have the ability to sit with me in my messiness and hear all of the dark thoughts that creep into my mind.  I cried.  I remembered we all have these days.  I didn’t beat myself up too terribly much for being in that state.  Too often we add to the suffering by getting upset with ourselves for being upset! 

So, the next time you find yourself swamped by sadness, whether it’s expected or not, whether it makes sense or not, give yourself the grace of being a human being who feels.  I invite you to allow yourself the time to gently be with yourself and allow yourself to feel into it, rather than trying to push it down or away.  Be with yourself and allow yourself to feel all the feels – it is oh, so natural.  Give yourself the grace to get the support you need – reach out to a friend, get to a counselor, ask for help and allow yourself to receive it.   You don’t have to go it alone… 

And, if this is more than a passing sadness, but something that is taking you down and out of your life, please seek professional help.  Here are some resources to get you started: National Institute of Mental Health.

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    About me...

    I am a writer, coach, and teacher, and I love capturing life's many moments through writing, whether that be journalling, blogging, poetry, or essay.  I have always found the written word as a natural way for me to express what lies within.  

    This is the space where we get real.  I will write about my life experiences and things that I find my clients encounter in their daily lives.   

    What's real for you? What would you like me to write about?  Feel free to share with me topics you would like to see discussed and please join in the dialogue through the comment section. Your engagement makes the blog a much richer place to hang out!

    Thank you for joining me on this journey!!    

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Barb Klein
Inspired Possibility
585-705-8740
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