This post was originally written on September 26, 2013. It was my abrupt introduction to massage as a necessary part of my self-care routine. If, when you hear of massage as being self-care, you think of spas, candles, aromatherapy, and bliss, then you may be surprised to find out how hard self-care can actually be.
The blog post can be read here.
I’ve been having moments of synchronicity lately. According to Jung, moments of synchronicity are meaningful coincidences that signify an opportunity to cultivate a deeper connection between the mind and the universe. They often occur in times of crisis and are opportunities for growth.
Most of my moments of synchronicity involve people with whom I am having similar epiphanies. We are going through similar crises, and we are using our self-awareness, our talents, and our minds to find out how to make the life that we want happen.
For example, I was going to write a post on gift-giving the other night, but a book that I’ve had on hold, The Serviceberry, by Robin Wall Kimmerer, became available. I saw that the book was only 2 hours long, and I’m behind on listening to 4 books a month, so I thought I’d knock it out to try to get back on track. I wasn’t sure what it was about, but I loved Braiding Sweetgrass, and she was featured in one of my meditations when they were focusing on gratitude that week. So I was confident I would like it.
Talk about synchronicity! In the book, the author differentiates between gift economies, which are based on the philosophy of abundance and promote gratitude, reciprocity, and community. Which is exactly what I was going to write a blog post about. She compares gift economies to economies that are based on scarcity, which result in competition, hoarding of resources, and surrendering our values so that we actually harm what we love.
A good example of this would be toilet paper at the beginning of the COVID pandemic. Even though people had no idea about anything related to COVID, they figured they better go out and buy all the toilet paper that is available in their local grocery store. And maybe some other grocery stores nearby.
And even after people found out that COVID does not cause GI difficulties that result in a need for extra toilet paper, thereby making it unnecessary to hoard toilet paper, it was still hard to buy toilet paper for months. Because the attitude was, screw all of you! I’ve got my toilet paper so I’m going to be OK if I have COVID because I beat you to the punch!
By the way, the CDC advised against going to the grocery store and buying all the things in a state of panic. But what do they know? It’s a dog eat dog world out there!
In contrast, when Hurricane Helene hit North Carolina in the fall of 2024 so badly that it wiped out all the roads and no emergency personnel could reach rural communities, these communities shared what little resources they had with one another until they could get help. Gift economy.
Kimmerer, who is Potawatomi, gives an example in which someone says something to a man in their tribe like, why don’t you make preserves out of the berries so you can have some for later? In reply, the Native American gentleman says something like, I store the berries in the belly of my brother. Because what good does it do me to have more berries than I need if my brother is hungry? The non-Native American thought Native Americans weren’t very smart and that they probably aren’t going to survive. (Which is true historically because of the Trail of Tears.)
Kimmerer also gives an example of how in an economy of scarcity, we take something like water, which is freely given by Mother Earth, and turn it into something scarce by polluting it. For example, some companies dump their waste into water reserves so that it is no longer safe to drink. So now the only way to have water that is safe to drink is to buy bottled water. Except everyone can’t afford to buy bottled water. Or food, for that matter.
In fact, when there are natural disasters like hurricanes, people go out and buy all the bottled water in every store they can get to and hoard it, just like they do with toilet paper, now that I think about it.
If you’e interested in reading this book yourself, Kimmerer is donating all presales of the book to organizations that protect and restore land.
What I was going to share about gift-giving is that I realized that turning my blog into a book is only the first step of doing what God wants me to do to fulfill my purpose. The book will allow me to have an opportunity to promote its release by providing workshops that will be called Normal in Training: Teaching Adults How to Rest and Play.
Because they already know how to work. In fact, that’s the problem with enjoying life in today’s world. We spend so much time making money to survive if you’re poor, or accumulating wealth if you’re rich, that we don’t spend enough time resting and playing.
But to live a full life, according to one of those weekly meditations I mentioned earlier, this Native American spiritual leader said that in their culture, work, rest, and play are all equally important. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s pretty brilliant. Which is why I decided to give these workshops.
In the workshops, my co-author and I will present our unique knowledge bases. My knowledge base relevant to the workshops is positive psychology, therapy, mindfulness, and self-compassion. My co-author’s knowledge base relevant to the workshops is service dogs, art, publishing, organizing presentations, and wisdom, since she is 76 years old.
We’ll explain why rest and play are important to prioritize mental health and allow you to enjoy your life rather than to work until you die.
Or why it’s important to do things now instead of wish you could do them if you had more time.
Or to decide that in order to take care of everyone else, you have to take care of yourself first.
Or to decide that the money you were going to spend on upgrading your Mercedes Benz might be better utilized on something that gives you time to connect with yourself, to the people you love, and to something greater than yourself–like nature, or another culture, or whatever you like to take a deep dive into.
And then we will start the activities, which will be like an adult version of a day in kindergarten. Because we’re healing our inner child by letting that child rest and play.
The morning will be divided into 3 types of workshops, depending on the skills that my clients have in the city that the workshop will be held in. They will include: 1) something related to art, 2) something related to bodily awareness, and 3) something related to self-awareness.
There will be several options in each category to choose from. And if you want to do more than one, luckily for you, they will all be streamed and participants will have access to the recording as part of their registration fee.
After lunch, there will be afternoon workshops that people can pay extra for. They will vary from city to city, based on what my clients and I use to self-regulate. They will include things like short yoga sessions, massage sessions, stretching sessions, mindfulness coaching, pickleball lessons, singing lessons, creative writing lessons, UGC creator lessons, and acting lessons.
Since no one is required to do anything they don’t want to do, there will be a quiet room in case people are overstimulated. There will be pop-up stores that my clients own. There will be food for breakfast, a mid-morning snack, lunch, a mid-afternoon snack, and an optional dinner that participants can attend to get to know other people in the workshop.
The food will be provided by clients who started their own business or by local vendors who are trying to compete with big businesses.
You can also choose to spend your time asking local vendors about their yoga studio, massage studio, pickleball club, mediation center, pottery studio, knitting/crochet group, etc.
There will be a local bookstore where people can buy our book, Neurospicy and Thriving, as well as books that my co-author and I think are important to read.
There will be a local craft store where you can buy supplies for a beginning art project, and one of our art experts will help you get started.
There will be a store where you can make your own emotional first aid kit. This tool kit is essential for self-soothing once you have become dyregulated and you’re thinking brain has gone off-line.
There will be a place where you can download free art into a book, a magnet, a mug, or whatever you want. You will only have to pay for whatever it costs to make the item, and you can make a donation for whatever you think that item is worth.
All participants will also have the program in which every vendor will have an ad so that if they decide later they want to use one of the vendors that was at the workshop, they will know how to contact them.
Even clients who don’t have a store or a skill yet all want to start learning how to do something that they’ve always wanted to do but never made it a priority, like knitting. So that when the workshop comes to their city in a few years, they can lead the workshop on learning how to knit. It is making my clients step out of their comfort zone and do all the things they’ve always wanted to do but never had the time or the courage to try.
I also tell clients that their presence in the workshop alone is proof that we can all learn how to enjoy life. Because when they tell their story about where they were when they started therapy and how they got to where they are now, participants are going to be like, whoa! It’s really possible!
This is an example of a gift economy. You give based on your talents, and what you receive is even greater than what you give. Because that’s how reciprocity works.
But we’re not giving to receive. We’re giving because we want to help other people who felt just like we did in our lowest moment, so that they know that it can get waaayyy better. And we will all show you how to do it. You will have lots of options and choices.
This workshop will be coming to a city near you. But first we have to finish writing and publishing the book. And then, you are all going to learn how to thrive. If you want to. No pressure. You have free will.
So stay tuned!
P.S. This was in my meditation the night I wrote this post:
More synchronicity!
My life has changed since I read the book Divergent Mind. And since I’ve been reading Unmasking Autism, which the same Autistic client in a Ph.D. program recommended, my brain is on fire. I can feel the neurons making connections. I need less sleep. I can juggle multiple projects at the same time. I am using more of my skills, and they keep getting better. Every session has become exponentially more effective. I am in love with my life, honored and excited to fulfill God’s plan for me. Which is to free people from the prison of having to mask in a neurotypical world.
And, eventually, to learn how to fly. Like Elphaba and Neo–my two favorite neurodivergent characters.
And I am still regulated, (i.e., practicing self-care, self-soothing).
I thanked my client in session yesterday. I told her that all this change has been made possible because of her. Because she was the one teaching me about what Autism looks like in adult women, I felt I had to do my due diligence and take a deep dive into neurodivergence myself. Since I’m the one who is supposed to be helping her. But every good therapist knows that clients sometimes teach you as much, if not more, than you teach them.
I told her she changed my life for the better and clarified my purpose. So spreading this message of neurodiversity must be part of her purpose, too, since she is very effective at it.
She was pretty happy to hear this.
My client Dee, who is co-writing the book Normal in Training, has also been changed for the better by the realization that she is neurodivergent. She is also writing a blog about how this realization has helped her thrive. She’s 76 years old. As we were talking about the book a few days ago, we both mentioned that we felt smarter, if that’s possible. And it is. I’ll explain why at the end of this post.
While I was reading Unmasking Autism, the author, Devon Brice, was talking about how some of the most serious psychiatric disorders like Bipolar Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) are often misdiagnosed because those people are neurodivergent, and the symptoms overlap. Even though he is not a clinical psychologist, he is an Autistic social psychologist and therefore knows how to take a deep dive into any topic. And everything he said about the differences between these disorders and Autism is true.
I was one of those people who was misdianosed. Because the first psychiatrist I ever saw, who I have frequently wrote about because he was so lacking in empathy, diagnosed me with bipolar II even though I was in a depressive episode when he met me and he had never actually seen me in a hypomanic episode. (And never did see me in one.) Just because my dad and one of my brothers are Bipolar I. (Now it’s actually 2 brothers, but I didn’t realize that when I was 40.)
Luckily, with the help of my therapist encouraging me to advocate for myself with my current psychiatrist, who kept putting me on antipsychotics that were turning me into a zombie, in our next appointment my psychiatrist asked me if I thought I was bipolar. Although I told her repeatedly that I didn’t think I was in the past, I simply said no. And she finally agreed and stopped the antipsychotics and put me on a different antidepressant. And I started getting better right away. After a year and a half of intense suffering.
And I still haven’t had a hypomanic episode. Even though she’s seen me in my current state. Which, admittedly, looks pretty similar to hypomania if you don’t know all of the ways people can be neurodivergent.
And since she was brave enough to reconsider my diagnosis, as soon as I read the part in Unmasking Autism about Bipolar Disorder and BPD being misdiagnosed, I left her a message in the portal saying I think she should read these 2 books so that she can make a differential diagnosis between these conditions and Autism.
To be honest, I didn’t expect much because psychiatrists are at the top of the mental health hierarchy. So why would she take advice from a lowly clinical psychologist? Even if I do know my stuff. And her stuff, too, actually.
But she did listen to me. She ordered the books right away. I know because she left me a message saying she’d look into it. And then later left me another message asking me if she had the authors correct.
So now I think even more highly of her for being humble enough to know she doesn’t know but is willing to learn.
In addition to being able to know what your strengths and weaknesses are once you realize you’re neurodivergent, there is another reason why change is possible at any age, regardless of how many times you have failed, or how many diagnoses you have. It’s called neuroplasticity.
Neuroplasticity means that the brain is capable of being rewired. So even if you are neurodivergent, which means you were born with your brain wired differently, or your brain has changed due to head trauma or aging, it is still possible to rewire your brain so that you can function in a neurotypical world.
It takes a lot of work, time, and commitment, but most of the steps are accessible to you. They are:
This is possible at any time, at any age, and at every reset. You just have to commit to it. Do these things, and you will first feel mentally stable. And then you will thrive. I promise.
So you know how much I love Karaoke. I am still singing, but my range is shot because of the damage done by my GERD (acid reflux) and some medications I was taking for 15 years (more on that in next post). Although the fundoplication surgery combined with compliance with my inhaler when exercising has really helped with my asthma and throwing up, my range hasn’t improved much.
I have debated on taking voice lessons over the past year because I see how much my friend Michelle and my niece Sadie have improved–and especially since I have an acting contract and can deduct the cost of the lessons–but I still thought it was a waste. It’s not like I sing for a living. My family and friends don’t care if I can’t hit the high notes when we sing Karaoke.
Luckily my family, friend, and niece wouldn’t let me give up. When I asked my brother if it made sense to get lessons if you had a broken instrument, he said that you can still improve the sound that you get from it. Michelle said that I just need to access my head voice for my high notes and that can be learned. And Sadie, the relentless optimist, said I won’t know unless I try. Plus she thinks I can be friends with Deanna, her voice instructor, and she’s always worried about me having friends because my closest friends are all in Roanoke.
So one day, I decided to research whether you can heal your vocal cords from GERD, and it turns out that you can with voice therapy. I figured voice therapy might not be that different from singing lessons, so I contacted Deanna and asked her if the two were similar. Not only did she say they were similar, but she also struggles with GERD and asthma and has learned to alter her techniques to accommodate these issues. So I was sold after that!
I’ve had 4 or 5 lessons now and already my range has improved, although the strength of my voice is still weak. The most amazing thing I’ve learned iis that the reason why I haven’t been able to sing high notes is that my tongue, vocal cords, throat, and larynx have been traumatized from all the throwing up. So essentially, I’m doing trauma therapy. I do exactly what I do with clients but with the focus on my tongue, jaw, neck, and throat. I am training these muscles to relax. Tell the muscles that they’re safe. We’re just releasing sound and air now.
The other thing that voice lessons have taught me is that I’m too hard on myself. I push until my body can’t take it anymore. A bunch of my loyal readers have told me that I’m too hard on myself but it’s hard to let myself off the hook. It’s hard to accept that I can go easy on myself, despite all the self-compassion practice. Although it’s much better than it was when I started this blog.
In lessons, I’m always trying to force the notes out rather than allow them to come out. Very similar to language used in mindfulness–allow, soften, create space, play. This also applies to why I need hip surgery. Because when my hip started hurting 10 years ago, it never occurred to me that I could have arthritis so I never went to the doctor. By the time I found out in January, I was already at the point that I needed hip replacement surgery.
Oh well. Old habits die hard so I’m trying to have compassion for myself. Pushing myself helped me to accomplish a lot of things, and it was the only tool I had in my tool box at that time. But practicing mindfulness and self-compassion have given me so many more tools, and taking voice lessons is helping me practice these tools in a different way.
And because I’ve also added the lovingkindness practice, I’ve finally discovered how to be happy in the present, in this moment. Even when I’m in pain, with little contact with anyone, and without being able to play pickleball.
The choice is ours to free ourselves from the obstacles we create in our minds. Luckily I have God, my family, my friend, Deanna, and myself to thank for this newfound freedom. And if there’s anything that you think is holding you back, it’s not too late for you to be free, either.
By the way, Deanna gives Zoom lessons and also teaches acting, so if you’re interested in working with her, let me know.
So I had been on a pretty steady writing roll at the beginning of the year, publishing about a post a week, when something unfortunate happened. My psychiatrist thought that my antidepressant wasn’t working so she recommended that I taper off of it. She thought the problem was that I have PTSD and should do some trauma-based therapy instead.
My therapist didn’t think it was a good idea to taper off my meds while depressed without adding anything, and she did not think trauma-based therapy would be helpful at this time. I completely agreed with her. I’m not used to having my providers be on different pages. She and my previous psychiatrist used to work closely together and often gave each other updates. I try to do what my doctors tell me to do but I was at a loss as to how to do so in this case. So I listened to my psychiatrist about the meds and went down on my dose, and I listened to my therapist about the therapy and did not start trauma-based treatment.
Guess what happened? My therapist was right about both things. She has known me for over 20 years, whereas my psychiatrist has known me less than a year. My therapist also has more than 40 years of clinical experience, and my psychiatrist is at the beginning of her career. So really I should have just listened to my therapist from the get go. I don’t really know why I didn’t. It was a costly error in judgment because I got severely depressed and anxious a few weeks after lowering my meds.
In a previous post, 50 Shades of Blue, I talked about how there are a lot of different flavors of depression. When my psychiatrist thought my meds weren’t controlling my depression in March I was still highly functional and I didn’t think it was that bad, relatively speaking. Maybe a light to medium blue. At the lowest point of this depressive episode in April I would describe it as an inky blue-black. Things got better for a little while in June but then by July my depression was more of a cold grayish blue.
What really sucks about going off of your meds is that simply going back up on them doesn’t correct the problem. Sort of like how it takes months to lose weight but just a few weeks to gain it all back. So for the past 5 months I have led a fairly marginal existence, mainly saving up my energy for my clients and working on self-care. I would try to get a little exercise, some sunlight, meditate and pray, eat, see my family. I even started playing pickleball, because it’s easier on my body than tennis, and I could have some social interaction, since I don’t have friends here yet. But I could not get myself to write. Could not blog, write in my journal, or even jot down writing ideas in my Notes app.
But here’s the good news. A week and a half ago I suddenly decided that it was time to write my book, and I knew this meant I was finally getting better. If you’ve been with me since the birth of my blog, which was almost 9 years ago, you know that the purpose of this whole endeavor was to get me to write a book. And now that this goal feels like my destiny again I finally feel alive, fully like myself again. I write in my journal. I read books on writing books. I jot down lots of ideas for posts and chapters. I’m blogging at this very moment. There are interesting ideas in my brain other than worrying about my lack of funds and when I’m going to start my new job. I feel joy and excitement rather than feeling empty and dead inside. I finally feel awake.
I’m sharing this with all of you because if it weren’t for you, dear readers, I would have never been ready to write my book. I would have never known whether or not what I had to say was interesting or funny or meaningful or relatable. I wouldn’t have felt the joy of having someone tell me that sometimes they feel the exact same way and it gave them comfort to know that they’re not alone. I wouldn’t have received the encouragement to write the book that many of you have given me. I’m going to continue to rely on you for support as I go through this process. In fact, in next post I’m going to ask you a favor, so I hope you’ll participate.
In case you were in suspense, my gallbladder surgery went well. I didn’t have to use any pain killers, which makes me feel tough. Like maybe I have a high tolerance for pain. Like I really am a warrior.
The problem is, trying to be tough is why it took me so long to realize I had an angry gallbladder. Over the last year, I’ve had 4 gallbladder attacks that lasted about 8 hours. At first I thought it must be Bob, because they usually happened on the first night we saw each other. But I didn’t break up with him or anything. The last one was so painful I thought dying might be a better alternative. I contacted my doctor the next day to ask about the most powerful drug I could take if it happened again, and he told me I was having gallbladder attacks. I was relieved that I was not being wimpy and was ready to get rid of that sucker as soon as possible.
My recovery went well. Except for not giving myself enough time to recover before I went back to work. Which, in retrospect, makes no sense to me at all. I really enjoy rest. I enjoy doing nothing. And that’s what I was supposed to be doing. But some tennis friends told me that it only took them a few days to recover, and I wanted to recover as fast as they did. So I only gave myself 5 days off instead of the recommended 2 weeks.
Five days was enough time for the physical pain to subside, but I was super tired no matter how much sleep I got. I could barely make it through a day of seeing clients. Which did not seem warrior-like. It turns out that the anesthesia can make you groggy for up to 2 weeks! Powerful stuff! And kind of scary. But I did feel less wimpy.
I told one of my tennis friends about my competitive approach to healing. She was actually one of the people I thought I was competing with. But it turns out her recovery wasn’t so speedy after all. She has played on my teams and knows all about my warriorism mentality in the face of competition, and she told me this was not the time to imagine that you are a soldier in the trenches of the jungles in Vietnam.
I guess recovery is more of a self-care thing rather than a competition. Funny I didn’t realize this earlier, because I talk about self-care all the time with clients. I’m just not so good at doing it myself.
I may have another surgery for my GERD. I’m still in the process of taking some tests. I’m actually hoping I do have surgery, because the problem I had originally sought help for is throwing up on the court and not being able to play tennis. While the gallbladder surgery has helped a lot with bloating, eating, and unbearable pain, it has not helped with coughing during physical activity.
I’ll let you know what happens. But rest assured, I will take the full 2 weeks of recovery time if I get the surgery. More time if I need to. And if you are one of the friends who checked on me repeatedly after my last surgery, for which I’m thankful, feel free to remind me to rest if I have surgery again.
I learned something about myself in 2018. I learned that I am not a superhero. I can’t do it all.
I mean, I knew that. I knew that I had reached my limit and I was going to fall apart, but I had kept it all together for so long, you know? I figured it was like knitting some complicated dress pattern. Or winning a tennis match after driving 10 hours and being injured. Just another crazy challenge that I could push myself through. But this time I met my match.
The past two and a half years have been tough for my brother and me. This was not intended to be a long-term living arrangement. I decided to get a new place at my therapist’s suggestion. It would at least give us more personal space–literally a wall between us–which was one small thing I could control.
And it is nice, the new place. But it caused 6 months of additional stress before I could benefit from it. Selling my old place. Moving out and running out of storage space. (How could I get so much stuff into 1000 sq feet?) Staying in a really expensive apartment for several weeks. Not knowing when I was going to have my new place. Changing my address multiple times. Trying to fit all my stuff in my new place. Which should have been easier with double the square footage, but for some reason it wasn’t.
The other thing I took on this year is that online therapy job, in anticipation of the added expense of buying a new place. Even though I can barely see all the clients in my primary job. Plus, it’s really hard to make a connection with someone who you don’t get to interact with face to face. So much of what heals in therapy is what happens when you literally sit with someone, being fully present to their pain, rather than the words themselves. In online therapy, all you have is words.
Plus, you know when someone doesn’t like you, because you get multiple emails telling you the person is transferring. They can even write a terrible review about you. Or file a complaint. And then you have to have a video conference with an expert who specializes in helping you be a less sucky online therapist. Fortunately, the last 2 things didn’t happen. But I did have people transfer. And thank goodness, because what was I thinking, taking all those new people?
Last semester had been particularly stressful at my primary job because one of my colleagues had to be out for the beginning of the term, so things filled up a few weeks earlier than usual. I usually fall apart some time around Thanksgiving, no matter how hard I try to practice self-care, but usually I can bounce back after a mental health day. So when I first fell apart, not surprising. After the second day, I started panicking a little. After the 3rd day, I knew I was in trouble.
I ended up taking an extended leave, and it’s the best thing I’ve done for myself in a long time. I probably should have done it 10 years ago but didn’t because it felt like admitting defeat. An extreme version of retiring from a match. So I just sucked it up, even though I knew I wasn’t doing a great job.
This time I had no choice, because unlike in previous depressive episodes, I couldn’t think. I felt like I had a concussion. I couldn’t remember words, and had a hard time even having a conversation. If I had to make a decision, I would get overwhelmed. Even reading made me anxious, because it activated my brain. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to handle my job, so I accepted defeat.
Having this time to focus solely on self-care (and moving) made me realize how long I had been operating under duress. Some of it was beyond my control, but some of it I put on myself. I push myself relentlessly. I’ve gotten a lot better since practicing self-compassion, but my Drill Sergeant is still active, bossing me around every chance it gets. I was only able to stand up to it because it felt like life or death.
Today is my first day back, and I’m glad I’m the only person here so that I can just catch up on the things I have put on the back burner for the past 6 weeks. I’m feeling pretty good but I still don’t know how much stress I can tolerate, so I’m hoping I can slowly ease my way into the crazy schedule that awaits me.
But I have to do things differently. So this year, my New Year’s Resolution is to let go of as much as possible. Moving has taught me that. A lot of what I had been holding onto went into the trash or to Goodwill. I even gave up plants that I’ve had for over 20 years, because the idea of carrying them up 3 flights of stairs to the one bedroom apartment that my brother and I were going to share didn’t seem worth the effort. When you have to carry all of your belongings around with you, you to learn to let go of material possessions pretty quickly.
I’m going to let go in other ways, too. No more captaining multiple teams because they desperately need another captain. I’m cutting back on the number of people I try to save that are not a part of my job. I’m going to stop beating myself up about working out, sleeping abnormally, and being unlike other people in general. Any thought that causes me distress I will put aside. I will only do what I have to do, because that will still be plenty.
This year, rather than choosing some challenge that pushes me to the limit, I’m going to choose me.
I’m reading this book by Pema Chodron Called When Things Fall Apart.” She’s pretty funny for a Tibetan Buddhist. She talks about how she threw a rock at her husband when he said he was leaving her. She’s a nun now. Maybe that’s why.
But I digress. In one chapter she says
if we really knew how unhappy it was making this whole planet that we all try to avoid pain and seek pleasure–how that was making us so miserable and cutting us off from our basic heart and our basic intelligence–then we would practice mediation as if our hair were on fire.
I thought that was hilarious! I mean, I meditate every day, but if my hair were on fire, that is not the first thing that would come to mind as to what I should do. But apparently that’s a popular phrase, because in this meditation conference I just went to, Bill Morgan talked about people’s hair being on fire all the time. Maybe that happened a lot in Asian countries.
The focus of this conference was on how to make meditation practice work for Westerners. He thinks that most people in the West can’t get into meditating because sitting quietly just feels like an opportunity to let demons and thoughts of unworthiness run amok. And our attention span is so short that it feels torturous to sit still for even a few minutes. Plus, because we are so goal-oriented that we spend too much time striving, trying to make something happen.
So we spent the weekend learning ways to start meditating in a gentler, kinder way. Morgan suggested that when we begin a meditation practice, we start by creating an experience of comfort. This is a way we can learn to soothe ourselves. Often we would begin by standing up to stretch, shaking out any discomfort. Then when we sat to meditate we would begin with a memory, sound, or image that we find soothing. The face of your grandmother, perhaps. The sound of the ocean. Thinking about your pet. Playing with your niece.
This was revolutionary for me because, as you know, I really struggle with self-soothing. For the longest time I really had no idea how to comfort myself. I’m still not great at it. I realized during this conference that I primarily try to comfort myself by creating chaos–a common strategy for people with histories of trauma. Peace and quiet feel strange, foreign, so we recreate the experience of the chaos we grew up with, because it at least feels familiar.
My version of creating chaos involves taking on too much–signing up for Talkspace, moving, volunteering to captain a team that I don’t even have time to play on because they need another captain. Or by obsessively trying to practice self-care, which ends up stressing me out more than it reduces my stress. I just did my health assessment for my job and all of my health markers were worse than they were last year. So apparently I’m getting an F in self-care. Sort of like when you study really hard for you Calculus but still end up failing all the tests.
After spending time in meditation during the conference, I think I’ve figured out why practicing self-care hasn’t been helping. I’ve treated living with anxiety, depression, GERD, asthma, and allergies as a chore. I had been practicing self-compassion, but my attempts at self-care were driven by fear of crashing and burning. My routines were done resentfully, begrudgingly. As if I had a child who I thought was a pain in the ass but I have to take care of her because that’s my job.
In the meditations he taught us, he told us to pay attention to ourselves with the heart of a caregiver. I do that for my clients but not for myself. I do not listen to myself wholeheartedly. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not just going to go through the motions of checking in with myself. I’m going to try to listen with an open heart, as though I were someone who I cared for deeply. Because I want to be someone who I care for deeply.
Recently I read about a study on self-cyberbullying. I didn’t even know that was a thing. But apparently 1 in 20 teens have anonymously posted mean comments about themselves online. What the?!
As for the reasons why, boys were more likely to say they were just trying to get attention. Girls were more likely to say that they were depressed or psychologically hurt. My guess is that some of the boys may have also been depressed or hurting, but it’s not cool for guys to admit this.
In a way, I guess it’s not that surprising, given the thoughts that go through our heads all day long. Maybe most of us don’t say them out loud or post them online, but they are often as cruel as the things that trolls post to upset people.
I’ve talked about some of the things that go through my head. Stuff like, no one gives a crap about you. Because I’m on to my inner bully, now, it tries to trick me by making it seem like a compassionate statement at first. It’s OK. No one has to care. Even though lots of people care.
In therapy I encourage clients to practice mindfulness by noticing these unkind thoughts and to question their validity. They are so automatic, so ubiquitous, that we think we are our thoughts, when in reality, our brains generate all kinds of statements that aren’t true. I am a terrible person. The world would be better off without me.
Then I tell them to practice self-compassion by replacing that thought with something kind. It’s going to be OK. You’re doing the best that you can. Or if nothing else, to at least replace it with something neutral. Right now I’m in pain, but at some point, I will feel better.
I’ve found a couple of new strategies that work for me. A few months ago I wrote a post about my exercise in accepting love, and that works well. I can actually feel it–the unique sensation of love from each person in my life, as well as the love that people send out into the universe when they practice loving-kindness.
It’s an amazing feeling, but also a little overwhelming–like a wave that comes out of nowhere–and I lose my balance. I brace myself against it, in the same way I brace myself against something painful. And then I have to tell myself that it’s OK. I can let myself feel it. I can let myself be loved.
The other thing I have done is turn on all of the notifications on my phone. I used to find it annoying to have stuff pop up on my screen all the time. But this is when my inner bully is most likely to tell me that there won’t be a message on my phone because no one gives a crap about me.
Granted, most of the notifications are not messages sent by all of the people who love me. Sometimes they are from TJ Maxx, telling me that I haven’t bought the things I left in my cart and I better hurry because there are only a few more items left in stock. But seeing something on there, regardless of the content, is enough to confuse that voice and silence it in the moment.
So take that, troll! I win!
Today is my blog’s 3rd birthday! Can you believe it? I’ve written 277 posts and still haven’t run out of things to say!
In those 3 books about God that I read this summer, they all said that we have many rebirths in the course of a lifetime, and the beginning of this blog year definitely feels that way. As you know if you’ve been reading my blog, my baby brother had quadruple bypass surgery less than a month ago. What I did not mention at the time is that I am taking care of him, so his heart attack has been a life-changing experience for both of us. While taking on this new role has presented many challenges, in some ways it has simplified my life. My behavior is more intentional; my motivation for everything I do is clear. Many of the things I have realized in this past month relate to themes I have written about over the past 3 years, so I thought I would share some of them.
1. Self-care. I often tell people to treat self-care as though your life depends on it, because it does. Nevertheless, I still struggle with it. It’s hard to go to bed on time, to cook, to go to the grocery store. I still have trouble saying no. Still push myself to the point of exhaustion. But now that I’m taking care of my brother, self-care really does feel like life or death. I have to go to the grocery store and cook healthy meals because if I don’t, he can’t eat. I have to get out of bed, even if I don’t feel like it, because I have to check on him. I have to set limits, or I won’t have the energy to care for him. Like Romeo said in his last post, sometimes it’s better when you don’t have a choice.
2. Mantras. There are so many new things to worry about now that I often feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep. I wake up to anxiety attacks. In rare moments of stillness, I cry, thinking about what he went through, wondering how we will make everything work. But in addition to my usual mantras (e.g., everything is going to be OK; I’m doing the best that I can), I have added 2 more: 1) anything is better than him being dead, and 2) if God saved his life, then he’ll help me find a way. And that helps to calm me down.
3. Solitude. I offered to take care of my brother without really thinking about it. At the time, I didn’t realize it meant that he was going to live with me indefinitely. Not that it would have changed my decision. But it’s sort of like suddenly having a child without the 9 months to mentally prepare for it. There was a moment where I mourned the loss of my space, my freedom, but that quickly faded. And surprisingly, I have gained far more than I have lost. I have someone to watch football with. Someone to talk to when I get home, to share my thoughts with. He cares about how my day went, whether I won my tennis match. I don’t dread days when I have nothing planned now, because they’re not as dreadful when you don’t have to spend them alone.
4. Friendships. My friends are so awesome. I am so thankful for them. Even though they don’t know my brother, they call and text to ask how we’re doing. They’ve made meals for us. They say prayers for us. They wished me luck on my first day back to work because I was stressed about it. They’ve listened to me cry. They’ve spent hours putting together shelves so that my brother could have space for his belongings. They are taking good care of me, so that I can take good care of Romeo.
5. Gratitude. In my prayers, when I give thanks for all of my blessings, I always do so with some anxiety, knowing that at some point I will lose the things that I am thankful for. What will I do then? Fortunately, hardship and loss have heightened my awareness of how plentiful my blessings are. I am even more aware of what a gift it is to be able to breathe, to feel your heart beat, to walk. (All mindfulness exercises, by the way.) I’m thankful that I have a job that has vacation days. I’m thankful that every day my brother gets stronger. That he is happier now than he was before the surgery.
If this period of my life marks a rebirth, then my goal in this lifetime is to be more fully aware of what a gift it is to be alive.
1000 Voices for Compassion
