Quiet

It's quiet in the house. The dog is sleeping, and the only sound is the faint whirring of fans as they cool the room, our computers, and occasionally, the fridge. Plus the sound of my typing. And of course my ever-present tinnitus.

When it's quiet, sometimes my thoughts race as I wonder or even worry about what is to come. Sometimes I do something to fill the void: write a grocery list, play music, anything but be silent in my own thoughts. Other times, though, like this time, I tune into what I'm thinking about and set it aside in favor of experiencing this moment, this one fleeting experience, and enjoying it. I feel the rhythm of my breathing, and I remain present in that rhythm, being grateful for the breath of life. I see patches of sunshine come in their brilliance, and pass behind clouds, hiding the sun's rays in a cloak of water droplets. I marvel at how everything seems so still when the Earth is actually hurtling through space at thousands of miles per hour; it is a miracle that we do not fly off the face of the planet. I tune into my spirit and notice that today, it is content. I am grateful for that contentment.

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Clouds"
by Sura Nualpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Sometimes my husband will comment on something that he has seen or learned, and we discuss it. Time with him, when he is truly present (like now) brings such peace and joy to me. I enjoy his company, which, although it sounds trite, rarely has need for words, but we talk anyway.

I hear the footfalls of my daughter as she awakens to another day. I wonder if she will be in more or in less pain than she was yesterday. She is never totally without it. Once, that realization troubled me deeply, because I had an unhealthy need to fix it; now, I am amazed and inspired by her courage and tenacity. She has taught me about so many things just by living them in her life: acceptance, tolerance, maturity, friendship, and more. I am grateful for her quiet, indomitable and yet vulnerable spirit.

I think about my friends. I am amazed by their patience with me as I have been so busy juggling career and school that I have rarely had enough (sometimes not any) time to spend with them as I would like. I know they support me in my chosen path - which means a great deal to me - and I hope to have a bit more time to spend with them as my work life comes to a close and I can concentrate more on school without that added burden of making a living. I have missed our times of fellowship together. With COVID-19 restricting our movements the last few months, I have become acutely aware of the effects of prolonged isolation even on a confirmed introvert like me. How awful it must be for those who need social contact to feel complete! They must feel like they are running on empty all the time! It firms my resolve to reconnect with my friends, one at a time, even though the chief health officer has deemed that it must be at a distance... so no hugging. 😞

The puppy has awakened now, and is letting us know there is a delivery person at a neighbour's house. The silence is broken, but I am left with a sense of calm and peace that remains with me.

I like that feeling.

Time To Retire

I have a countdown on my computer. Currently, it says 414 days until I retire. And I remember a time when that number was over double that ... not all that long ago. 

As the weeks and months wind down toward that magical date, I am working hard at keeping my stress in check, because that day also marks for me a day when I can devote more time toward my second career. From the looks of the way things are going right now, that second career may be starting only eight short months after that.  

Free Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

And then I might have more say over when I take days off, or how much (or little) I work. I will be able to schedule time for things that - until then - will have been on hold for a very long time. Too long, actually. Horseback riding, golfing, traveling for fun, reading for pleasure, and (best of all) spending time with family and friends will all be possible again. That's the dream, at least. I've missed all of those things, and those who know love me have been very patient with me. VERY. PATIENT. Sometimes I am not sure how they put up with me always looking to dive into my next assignment for school, or with me having to work when their schedule frees up time for them, or with me nodding off when we do occasionally have a visit. What amazing people I have in my life!

It's getting within sight now, this finish line. But it's not really a finish line ... it's more of a starting line where I can walk (or ride, haha) and not run. That will be nice!! 

In the meantime, I need to remind myself frequently that it is time to retire: that is, it is time to schedule regular rest stops on my journey. I have been going at such a break-neck pace, especially since 2013, that burnout is never very far off, and perhaps I need to slow down a bit more. Sometimes, it takes the harsh reality of circumstance to bring me to that place of rest and re-creation.  I hope that I can learn to take the hint sooner rather than later that I need to make time for me and for the things (and people) that/who are important to me. I'm not thirty anymore. Nearly twice that now!!  I need to cut myself some slack!! 

I am so grateful for the ones who know me best and who love me anyway, who take the time to gently suggest that I take the time to look after myself and not run myself ragged. Such friends are hard to come by; I am very blessed to have more than one. 

So - in this time between semesters, I may be looking to reconnect with a few people, and take the time to do things that I like doing. After all, I am the only me that I have. :) 

Light Enough

It's been about six weeks since my plans for the future hit a major snag (which I talked about a couple of posts ago) and I realized that I needed some help to deal with it all. With my doctor's assistance, I've taken steps toward getting a therapist to help me deal with my childhood issues, and I have also started to take a medication that gives me more energy during the day. 

During that time, I've moved back to my home province, back into my own home with my husband and daughter, and have arranged an updated work-from-home routine that has me going into the office one day a week. I must say that it felt good to go to a work environment where people smiled when they saw me coming, where I felt (and feel) welcome, and where there was a sense of recognition and respect for my talents. 

Photo "Blooming Snowdrops In The Spring" by radnatt at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I'm also looking forward to my upcoming volunteer activities, which I have scheduled to start this coming Wednesday, at a local non-profit organization aimed at helping pregnant and new mothers who are facing challenges (financial mostly, and mostly single moms). Hopefully I will be able to get outside of myself and gain some much-needed face-to-face experience with people in need at the same time. The director of the organization is someone I feel that I can "click" with - she has never been anything less than kind and approachable - an ideal mentor for me. Although it seems a crazy time of year to start such a venture, as the Christmas season seems to highlight the great need of people at risk, I believe that it will give me a sense of doing something that will make a difference to people's lives. And I need that tangible sense of purpose and accomplishment in my life, especially in the beginning of a season that for me is so depressing because it's so cold and dead outside and will remain so for many months. Who knows? maybe I'll even find some Christmas spirit laying around somewhere. ;)

As I think about my future goals, all I feel is confusion. Six months ago, I had it all planned out. I knew what I was going to do, when it was going to happen, and how I was going to get there. Now, I am questioning everything. So finding one thing that I can do gives me a light in a dark place in my life. It's like lighting a candle when the electricity goes off at night. It gives you just enough light to see the next step or two, nothing more. And you need to go slowly or you'll put out the light. But there is light enough for that one or two steps. 

I still have a lot of things to sort out. Having the time to do that without the extra burden of assignments and other school-work has been helpful. I have been doing a LOT of thinking, reflecting, meditating, and just resting. There is much that I just don't know yet. I don't know how long this process will take, or what I will end up doing with my life. All I know is that I need to use these next few months wisely. There have been opportunities for me to consider, and I am weighing these as well. But no major decisions set in stone. 

After all, I still only have light enough for the next step. Once I take it, I might be able to see where the next one will be.

Transition

The last several weeks has been a time of transition, of moving from one way of doing things to something completely different. The next seven weeks will be so as well, a continuation of the changes that have slowly been happening as I get ready for my first time living alone in my 57 years. 

No, my husband and I are not separating; there is no problem in our relationship. In fact, were it not for his support and encouragement, I would not be even considering what I am about to do. 

After months of trying to secure a practicum in my province of residence, and doors slammed in my face at every turn, I found a placement - but this one is in a neighbouring province, and with a counseling agency that wants me to stay on with them after I graduate with my Masters degree. That means that I have to move - temporarily - to an apartment in a city that is two hours' drive (and an expensive toll bridge ride) away from the house I have lived in for the last nearly 29 years. My practicum begins on September 5, 2018.  That is less than seven weeks away!

Anyway, since my family needs to stay here, for a lot of reasons, I must live alone in what amounts to a strange city, on a reduced salary, and live like that for almost a year. Then, the agency will start to pay me, and for another year, I will be working two jobs part-time, until I retire from my current job in the fall of 2020. After that, I can go to full-time with the agency, which will speed up the process of me getting enough experience to launch out on my own. Once I can do that, I can move back in with my family. 

Which brings me to the meantime, this period of transition, this intense, can't-wait-but-no-it's-too-fast time where I have been picking away at things that need doing. Like finding an apartment (cha-ching $$), getting it ready to be lived in (MORE $$), being sure to maintain my quality of homework and assignments (the time requirements this term are SO much higher than ever before!), and trying to find time in there to sleep and eat and MAYBE fit in some self-care and activity. 

Social life?  What's that?

About a month ago, I had to go on stress leave from work because all the stress of all of that PLUS having to be at work for eight hours a day was just too much for me to take and I was approaching burnout. I am feeling a bit more like myself these days, but I still have to deal with that transition period that I am going through, from this place to that place, from here to there, from together to alone. The changes are happening more and more quickly; I have started to get a feel for where things are located in my new place, and I have familiarized myself with my newest friend, Siri (that's the electronic assistant on the i-Phone that can look up directions on Google Maps and talk you through traffic. What a great feature that is for reducing stress!) 

And yesterday, I even got some groceries so they would be there when I moved in - all stuff that won't spoil (canned goods, rice, cereal, boxed meals, and some cleaning supplies.) It makes the reality seem more real... that, and all those trips up and down those stairs to my 2nd floor apartment lugging heavy bags and boxes. 

Transition from "our place" to "my place" - transition from "our" to "my." Fears that I won't be able to handle the winter alone. Excitement at starting the final year of my graduate school journey. Sadness at leaving my loved ones behind and knowing that I will have to get used to sleeping alone. Anger at the system in my own province that cannot accommodate my educational needs. Determination to do my best. Nervousness (and a sort of joy) about working with real clients and making a difference - hoping that it is a positive one. Trepidation at driving in the city and possibly getting lost or stranded. And more, so much more. 

I am so very grateful. My family has been so supportive and helpful during this transition. It feels like they have worked harder than I have to make all this work for me, knowing my physical limitations. They have trudged up and down those stairs to my apartment more times than I have (so far), and worked together to put furniture together (mostly my daughter who seems to have inherited my father's ability to see with his fingers and thread a screw without even looking!). They have popped up and down my step-stool to put up brackets for curtains, change light bulbs, and so much more, WITHOUT the benefit of air conditioning, fans going full blast. 

I am truly blessed. And as I ponder this, the clock is silently ticking away, bringing me ever closer to the reality that will be upon me soon enough. Soon I will be poised on the beginning of a new and different journey, one that will change my future. 

Am I ready? I guess I will have to be. I'm just ever so glad that the future only comes one day at a time.

Blah, blah, blahh?

So far it has been a very late, very wet summer. And there is even more rain  ... and showers ... and drizzle ... in the forecast. It's soo hard to get motivated with this kind of weather. Everything feels so BLAH.

So-o, it looks like I need to hold a private gratitude meeting with myself. Maybe by doing that, I can light a candle and dispel the darkness.

Okay-y, hmm. 

I'm grateful that my daughter was able to get the huge drywall compound stain off the brand new floor in the family room last night (where it had dropped from someone "mudding" the new ceiling); I'd been stressing out about whether the stain would ever come out. [Whew!!] I'm thankful that I have my husband and daughter to talk to and that we have good relationships and can talk about pretty much anything. 

I'm relieved that my daughter finally has an appointment to go see the orthopedic doctor in Halifax next month, and that she is continuing to learn to drive a car. Her progress in other areas is slow but positive and steady. I'm thankful for that too. Her totally accepting attitude about her lot in life just amazes me.

I'm pleased about my courses at my online grad school and that I will have the same classmates going into my upcoming fall course as I now have in the orientation. (From the winter semester onward, I won't have the same people in my classes, but that's then and this is now). The course for this fall will explore all different kinds and styles of therapy and the different underlying theories behind each - so it's kind of like a review for me ... but I'm sure I'll learn a lot too (it covers areas my previous program didn't have the time to cover) and continue to develop relationships I've started.  I've been assigned a faculty advisor that will be the same one throughout the program, so that's neat. Plus, I don't have to pay extra for my textbooks - a real bonus!

I am glad to have a pretty rewarding job ... and that my job is far less stressful now than it was six months ago due to some positive changes near the top. 

Photo "Candle" courtesy of phanlop88 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I'm grateful that hubby had a chance to make a few extra dollars in the last few months (thus being able to replace the ceilings in the basement with drywall and the lighting with something a bit brighter for the most part). It's not completely done, but the majority of it is, so our lives can resume their normal rhythms. I'm also grateful that hubby can now return to his normal schedule at home the rest of this year - it gives him more time with our daughter and allows him to be able to take her to her various (multiple) medical appointments. I am happy that my back (sacro-iliac) is doing well enough that I'm no longer using a cane, even though I need to be careful not to aggravate it by standing or sitting or walking for too long (hence my staying home today from church because those pews kill my back and standing up for any length of time is even worse). Nevertheless, it's doing better today (and I want to keep it that way) so for the moment, I'm okay. Okay is good. It's honest. An honest "okay" is better than a faked "great" any day.

I'm even grateful to be able to be there for a friend who just lost her 41-year-old daughter after a long fight against a congenital heart condition which left her susceptible to strokes. It's a rough road ahead for my friend, but I know she will make it - and I feel privileged to be there to help in any way I can. Mostly it's just by being there, and letting her know that her feelings are valid and normal for what she's going through. 

And although I am currently going through what I'd call an existential crisis at the moment (pertaining to the whole idea of fear-based obligation and ritual vs love-based freedom and service), I am grateful that I have a strong faith to ground me while I'm finding my way through what can be a mine-field of second-hand emotions that some people could attempt to put onto me. I have talked about my faith on this blog before, so most of you know that I'm a Christian, but most of my discussions on this topic are reserved for a different audience (different blog), so I won't repeat them here. Enough to know that there are some pretty fundamental changes going on within me, and even if the end result is a different way of living and spending time, it won't be because of a loss of faith. Rather, it will be as a result of returning to a more simple, less complicated (less guilt-based, less fear-based) faith. I see that as a positive thing, and I'm thankful for that.

There, that's much better. The rainy day has not succeeded in keeping me in a downward spiral. In fact, I can even feel the warmth of that candle now.

There's only one you

It creeps up on you.

Too many sacrifices, too many times of being taken for granted, too many adjusted expectations, they all take their toll. One thing leads naturally to the next and before you know it, you're up to your eyeballs in stress and wondering how you got there. 

I know. It happens to me. Not as often as before, to be sure, but it still happens. Then something kind of shifts, one more task added to the pile and then ... you feel overwhelmed and wanting to quit everything. The trouble is, everything you committed to doing is perfectly fine and even commendable.

There's just one thing missing.

You. 

Somehow, in looking after everyone else, in taking on too much at once, or in unexpected circumstances, life just gets to be so jam-packed that things start spilling over and falling to the floor. And the one getting the short end of the stick is you. 

The concept of self-care is an uncomfortable one for many people. "Nice" people put others first. "Nice" people don't ask for what they want. We are taught from our formative years that it's selfish to think of ourselves first. However, it just doesn't make sense to expend so much energy on other people that we have nothing left for ourselves, which kind of defeats the purpose because if we don't have anything to give, we can't give anything. 

And so we end up feeling weary, unappreciated, even resentful. Those are good warning signs. 

You're the only you that you have. There is only one you, and you are important... whether you believe it or not!

Imagine yourself as a container, a large glass of water, let's say. People come to you with smaller glasses and ask you to give them something to drink. There is only so much in your glass. You empty yourself out and there is nothing left to pour into anyone else's life. However, if you turn your thinking around and go to a mountain spring, and you let the spring spill into your glass, up to the brim and overflowing, people come to you and they are automatically filled ... but you are not depleted. 

Yet, it takes effort to get to the spring. You have to say no to filling up the next person's glass who comes to you with his or her need. And the next. Maybe a whole lot of next people. You need to look after your own needs so that you can have something to give to those who need it. 

This is a small thought (or is it?) that could yield great results in your life. It's at least worth thinking about. 

Photo "Waterfall In Forest" courtesy of
Witthaya Phonsawat at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The Only You

We were at our weekly team-builder: a half-hour of social interaction over treats provided by one of the groups in our team, when I saw her standing nearby in a small group of about four people, chatting. Our eyes met - and I wandered over.

Actually I had wanted to chat with her for a couple of weeks, because I'd been thinking about her. She'd recently finished a degree program and obtained her Master's, a process I'm only beginning. As things got busier and busier outside of work, with my classes and my preparation, reading, projects, and the like, I found my thoughts wandering to how she must have felt during her program.

A few seconds into our conversation, she said, "If I had any advice to give you, it's this: don't forget to look after yourself. Sleep. Eat. Exercise." 

I grinned, and let her continue. "It's really easy to get so involved in your studies that you fall prey to the 'just one more page, just one more chapter' kind of thinking. Don't let it happen. Take a break, even if it's for ten minutes. Do something you want to do. Don't give in to the temptation to just grab something at the drive-through, eat healthy." 

I nodded. Her words made sense. 

They carried the message, even though she didn't actually say the words, "You are the only you that you have. Take care of you, because if you don't, you won't have anything left to give." 

A nice pot of soup - steaming away

Her words came back to me yesterday as I struggled with a difficult decision ... it doesn't matter what it was. Yet I found myself tempted to sacrifice my own future, my own sanity even, for the sake of something that - truth be told - was better left to work itself out. 

Yes. I had to let go. AGAIN. But it didn't make it easy. Not one bit. 

If I hadn't, I am sure that I would have bankrupted myself, or landed in a psychiatric ward somewhere because I was trying so very hard to be strong when that situation was not even my situation to control. 

Was it hard? OHHH yeah. 

Once I had finally made that decision and let go, the stress level went from 95% down to 30%. I felt the muscles in my neck and shoulders, which had been getting tighter and tighter over the last several days ... start to relax. My stomach started to un-knot and the nausea subsided. I could take a full breath again. And the only thing that had changed about the situation was my attitude toward it - and toward myself. The crux of the matter was - I was the only me I had. I still am. 

If that means that I have to set boundaries and stick to them - if that means I have to say no to a request, or sacrifice a B+ and settle for a B- to look after myself, then I need to do that. 

Thank you for reminding me of that, my friend.

Take it all down

Today has been a difficult day, and it's not over yet.

There's a relationship that's broken in my life. It's been broken for years and over time, it has gotten more and more broken.

I tried to fix it starting a few years ago. However, the dynamic of it was such that anything I tried to do, backfired.  The history - and there was a LOT of history - got in the way.

Now it seems broken beyond repair. Lines have been drawn in the sand. Boundaries set and breached, over and over and over. 

In desperation, looking for some sort of sign, a prayer on my lips and an aching in my heart, I turned on the TV and thought maybe I could just put my mind in neutral and quiet the revving motor, the chest pains, the loss of appetite, the anguish. 

What I saw was an episode of a well-known Canadian home renovation show. The host was examining a floor that had water leakage problems and nobody knew where the leak was coming from. After excluding the obvious suspects, he decided to rip up the floor.

It was a beautiful hardwood floor. Shiny, glorious. "Take it all down," he said. "We'll find out what's causing this problem." 

Out came the crowbars. Up came the wood - splintering in all directions as the workmen did their duty. It was ... obscene. All that beautiful wood. 

"Danger" courtesy of
Michelle Meiklejohn at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

But underneath ... underneath it, someone had put plastic between it and the concrete slab. The concrete was cold; the wood was warm. The plastic made a perfect place for moisture to condense and cause the problem. 

Just a piece of plastic. Put in the wrong place.  Dear God.  

That's when my sign came. 

Sometimes, to fix something that is very wrong, everything has to go. It all has to go out the door, and be done right  -  and the right way too  -  from scratch. 
 Time to make a clean break. Splinter even the good things so that they are unusable, clear it all out, lay a good groundwork and do it right this time.

In my relationship dilemma, I believe that means (although I am scared to death) making a clean break as well. The way things have been going is not good; it is time to put an end to it, to say goodbye, to remove the source of the situation and lay the proper foundation: one based on each individual taking responsibility for his or her actions. 

No more who did what to whom first. No more majoring on minors. No more trying to do the same thing, over and over again, expecting different results. 


No more enabling. No more wheedling. No more manipulation. No more intimidation. 

That's going to take some hard work. And the hardest of all will be when the relationship crowbar comes out. When we (with much fear and sadness) say goodbye to what was. 

Even if it hurts. And it WILL hurt.

A LOT.

Decompression

Part of my regimen of self-care for the past couple of years has been my Winter Plan. 

This usually involves taking about one day of vacation per month during those long, cold winter months (February seeming to be the longest) during which there are no statutory holidays at all from New Year's Day to Easter. (No, the place where I work doesn't allow that civic holiday in mid-February, and I don't cound Valentine's Day because it's a normal workday for me.) 

Today is one of those vacation days. I had requested it in late October, and had forgotten about it until about three weeks ago, when I was checking what leave I'd taken so far, and saw that request sitting there. (Bonus!) 

That's when the plan took shape. I'd not purchased a Christmas gift for my husband yet, and a suggestion from an acquaintance of mine was niggling in the back of my mind.

So, I went to expedia.com and looked into slashed prices for an overnight getaway. 

I found one. It sounded marvelous: a traditional room with a fireplace, and a free continental breakfast ... rated at four and a half stars. It was pricey even with the deal I was getting, but I figured it was well worth it... so I booked it.

Last night, around 5 pm, we arrived at the hotel, which had private off-street parking. We were greeted warmly, told where the elevator was and what complimentary beverages would be available (and when), and given our pass keys, as well as a card addressed to me (as the one who had booked the room) and some other information. 

The card itself was an engraved welcome to me by name, and wishes for a great stay. Okay, that was amazing in itself. 

Little touches like that were what we noticed most about our stay. We got a phone call in the room, fifteen minutes after checking in, just to see if everything was to our liking. When we went out for supper (around 7 because we'd had a late lunch) and returned, we saw that our blinds had been lowered and drapes shut, with Ovation mints and yet another card wishing us a great evening at the hotel waiting for us on freshly turned-down bed linens. 

We soaked in the quietness of this little nook. It was like a healing balm for the harried soul. 

We made use of the gas fireplace ... a LOT. 

The casement windows were a breeze to open and shut; we left one open a crack (since we weren't on the main floor) to provide some fresh air all night. We slept soundly and awoke refreshed, relaxed. The pace of life shifted into slow-motion; we savoured every moment. Nothing was rushed.

This morning, we enjoyed a luxurious continental breakfast in the lobby (itself so posh with leather couches, a grand fireplace, and an old upright piano in the corner). As for the food, they even had single-serving quiches as well as the usual fare, like muffins, bagels, biscuits, bread for toasting, and other surprises like four kinds of juices (served in a carafe with an ice-cylinder insert to keep them chilled, and coffee or hot water for tea. Once breakfast was over, they reset the lobby landscape, and revealed a huge Keurig machine and various kinds of K-cups for different tastes ... which we indulged, of course. 

Amazing. 

I can honestly say that I have never felt so pampered in my life, and hubby said the same. 

You know that feeling of everything being "right" in the world? the one where you just want to hug everything about that experience to yourself and make it last as long as you possibly can? The warmth of that very feeling was there from the first moment, and even after we checked out, it carried us through the rest of today as we had various errands to do. Early this afternoon, when I spoke in person to that acquaintance who'd suggested an overnight getaway, she told me that I was just glowing, that I looked so relaxed. 

It was relaxing; the whole experience was a time to decompress, to allow ourselves to be cared for, to be "made over" as the old-timers would say. 

Four years ago, I never would have considered doing such a thing. And now (although it would be nice to be able to do it more often) I'm even daring to dream about making it a regular (i.e., annual) thing.  

As miraculous as my recovery has been, this aspect of looking after myself has taken quite a while to grasp. As I've come to understand it, self-care is all about allowing good things to happen and not pushing them away just because of the lies I believed for so long: "I'm not worth it, nice people look after others first, and looking after myself is selfish." This getaway was a strong hint, not only to my husband (that he's worth that kind of spoiling ... and so much more!) but to me as well. 

I think I'm starting to get the message.

Gentle ...

"I never understood it when I was younger," my friend said to me. "But as I get older, the saying 'Be gentle with yourself' makes more and more sense."

I nodded. Rare is the person in our western society, especially in the church it seems, who treats himself or herself as kindly as he or she would treat others. It's part and parcel of our culture, it seems, to be hard on ourselves, to think of ourselves last (believing this to be selfless and altruistic) instead of looking after ourselves so that we have enough in reserve to give to others without burning out! 

I spent years like that, burning out time after time, growing to resent the very people I was trying to help. Decades. It boggles my mind when I think about it. And all the time I was doing that, I thought I was "being a good person" and even "being Christ-like." 

Wrong.

The depth and scope of my self-deception was such that it touched every facet of my existence. 

Typical behaviors included:

• letting everyone else choose what they wanted at a buffet and going in afterward to choose from what everyone else didn't want,
• going into a department store and getting something to wear for everyone in the family except for me,
• supporting and encouraging people who thought so little of themselves that they needed constant affirmation, with little or no change,
• never asking for any time off from my volunteer position at church, even filling in for anyone who was sick or on vacation (when they didn't advise the volunteer coordinator in advance),
• staying in unhealthy relationships far too long, 
• trying to "fix" my family members and friends (veiled as "giving advice" or "caring"),
• beating myself up when I made a mistake and not forgiving myself,
• holding myself back from reaching for my own dreams and aspirations for career or ministry,
• procrastinating on implementing healthy habits for myself,
• putting myself down, criticizing my looks, my abilities, and my possessions ALL THE TIME (which was really a manipulation of other people to make them feel guilty or bad for me, and then they'd tell me nice things about myself to "make me feel better"),
• never saying "No" to the demands of my family and/or friends, and
• never saying "Yes" to what would feed my own spirit or heart.

Me in 2004

I was brought up to believe that self-love was selfISH. However, in the last nearly four years, I've learned that if I don't take the time to be gentle to myself, it not only hurts me but those around me, because I will be running on empty and unable to respond - only react ... and usually not well. 

I'm not talking about pandering to Ego (heard a great acronym for EGO: "Edging God Out") or rather, to Egotism, which is a more accurate term for self-centeredness and arrogance.  I'm talking about recognizing that as much as I want others to feel good about themselves because they are human beings ... I too am a human being and I need to cut myself a break sometimes. I need to be good to myself, to treat myself as I would a friend. 

After all, one of the Great Commandments is to "love your neighbor as yourself." Well, if I loathe myself, and do everything in my power to sabotage myself, I won't know how to love my neighbor, will I?

Hmm. That thought keeps occurring to me. It must be important.

So, for the last three and a half years especially, I've been doing more and more to look after myself, to follow my dreams, to work toward what I want for my life, to draw boundaries where before I didn't even know I had a right to them, to say "No" once in a while, and to make time for myself on a regular basis. 

It all makes a difference. My life today as compared to four years ago is ... well, simply astonishing to me. The best thing is - and I have to credit being gentle with myself for part of it - for the first time in my life, I feel comfortable inside my own skin and I am actually ... happy.

Nobody is more surprised about that than I am.  :D

The Power of NO

I remember reading a case history once of a person who was in psychological counseling. One line stood out to me. "Exhausted. Has trouble saying 'NO' and therefore takes on too much, then burns out."

I know that merry-go-round; I live it, at some times more than others. I take on more than is healthy for me and then I struggle beneath the weight of the responsibility of more than I can handle. Eventually something has to give, and I feel like a failure, when what has really happened is that I took on too much to begin with. 

And you know, I took on that much probably because I was afraid of being rejected if I said, "No, I don't have enough time left to do that." 

I have no problem with saying, "No, that's our family time; I don't schedule things then. Maybe we could do that another time." But if it's "just me" - that is, if the only reason I want to opt out of some event is because I need to look after myself, well, sometimes I don't think that's enough ... probably because there's a part of me that doesn't believe that I AM enough. 

That's an area I need to work on. It's like weeding out my closet: what fits, what doesn't, what's worn out, what needs replacing and what doesn't, and do I really need that? So what I've been doing the last little while is reviewing all the irons I have in the fire (so to speak) to see which ones I can remove - or set aside for the time being - to give myself a little time for me.  I'm asking myself questions which (for me, because I'm so afraid that people won't like me) are difficult:

• Is this activity producing the desired effect I intended?
• Does it need more attention or less? is it a good use of my time?
• What am I hoping to accomplish with this? 
• Does this organization's values (or do the values of its clientele) jive with mine?
• Can I set this venture aside for a while without feeling like I'm losing something?
• What do I want to be spending more time doing? Am I going in that direction or away from it?

The answers to these questions will tell me what I can let lapse ... and what to keep pursuing. Already I've stopped one association with an organization with whose practices I have not made peace; that felt like a great weight off my mind. And today, I cancelled my membership with another e-company that was wasting a lot of my online time; the sense of relief was palpable. 

And I'm refocusing my attention on the things in my life that I can do. It's all part of setting boundaries, practicing self-care, and having the energy left over to invest into the message of being free from the grave-clothes of fear and shame. It's a never-ending quest.

And a big part of that is knowing when it's time to say NO.

Creep

Of course it happens slowly. It can't happen any other way. 

If it happened quickly ... we'd notice. But over time, little things creep in and we give just a little to make room for them. It could be saying yes to too many projects, or letting the housework pile up, or taking on just one more extra-curricular activity for the kids, or buying just one more trinket. 

But one leads to two, and two leads to more - whether items, hours, or days. And before long, we look around and wonder how it all happened.

It's creep. Sly, seemingly innocent concessions we make. 

I do this more often than I care to admit. I get overwhelmed and wonder how it all happened, when "all I was trying to do was..." And so it goes. I want to be seen as a nice person (hm, sounds like fear of rejection to me), so instead of saying "No" when someone asks me to do something I would just as soon not do, I say "Yes" ... instead of setting that boundary.  Boundaries are hard. Enforcing them is harder. So I give in. Even if giving in is bad for me. 

Got this drawing HERE

After a while, I become obsessed and driven by what this one and that one wants, and the stress builds - and I start getting burnt out. The alarm bells start to ring. Eventually, if I ignore them, I get resentful of the people I'm trying to help. And the bells get louder.

The alarm bells didn't always ring for me though. I just wondered why I was so tired and unhappy all the time; after all, if people would only show a little appreciation, I'd be fine. Right?
Wrong. 
When I first started to embrace a lifestyle of looking after myself as one of the people with whom I was in a relationship (there's a thought!) and healing from past hurts, I'd catch myself doing this, spreading myself too thinly for others' benefit (or so I thought). I used to berate myself that it took me longer than what I thought was healthy, to realize I was doing it. The cycle would be three-quarters of the way through before I would figure out what was happening, and stop. As time went on, though, I noticed that I was catching myself sooner and sooner. And I was practicing my new behaviors of saying how I feel instead of stuffing it down inside somewhere. Not every time, but more times.

This is progress. This is not perfection. 
Thank God perfection is not my goal anymore; it used to be. I can give myself permission to fail. Not that I try to fail, but if I do, it's okay. I guess I accepted the notion that the only perfect One who ever walked this earth got nailed to a cross - and I'm not Him.

What a relief.

This lifestyle - this one day at a time, first things first, let go and let God philosophy on which it's based - is actually pretty good. I'm generally happy most of the time. Oh, I get flustered over things that occur, the weather, circumstances, just like everyone else, but I don't beat myself up about not being able to do it all and be superwoman any more. 

Well, not much. ;)

And that creep phenomenon? Thankfully, it doesn't get as far as it once did. 

The power of liking

I wrote an article on a blog of mine yesterday (not this one) - and in my internet Mail Inbox this morning was an email from the site telling me that someone had "liked" my article. 

My eyebrows raised; my interest factor spiked. "Who?" I wondered. I clicked on it and found that not only did someone like it, that person started following the blog! Further, I had no idea who it was; the individual had just been browsing and stumbled on my site ... and liked what I wrote.

Hm!! 

I got this graphic from
this site on how to insert a FB like button

"Liking" is very powerful. There is an innate human need to be affirmed, to be approved of, to have contributions appreciated. That's part of the appeal of social media sites like facebook. It feels good to be acknowledged and appreciated for what you think or believe. Or what you've done. 

It's amazing how just a "like" on FB or an encouraging comment on a blog can lift my spirits. There are times when I wonder if I should even bother continuing, and then someone will like my link to this (or another) blog when I post it on FB, or they'll give me verbal or written feedback, and then I'll rethink my rethinking. Again. 

Liking is powerful in another way too. Knowing that someone enjoys my company - especially someone in whose company I feel safe - goes a long way toward whether I have a grumpy day or one filled with gratitude. Today someone came up to me and put an arm around me and squeezed. That person doesn't normally do things like that - at least not to me. But that show of support really made my day, because I'd been feeling isolated even though I was in a crowd of people. It was good to know someone thought enough of me to tell me, to show me. 

It reminded me to make a point of giving feedback, especially positive feedback. Do you know why most people in "helping" professions (psychologists, pastors, social workers, public servants) burn out so frequently? They give and give and give some more, and people take and take and take. The only things they ever hear are the complaints when someone's not satisfied. Very rarely does anyone come back to say, "Thank you for such great service," - or "What you said really helped me today." 

It only takes a couple of minutes once in a while. The way I figure it, folks are really good about saying nice things about someone after he or she is dead. 

Why wait?

The pain drain

Ever noticed that things that you would normally not mind seem to bother you more when you're in pain?

I have.  I've been in pain - not severe, but pretty much constant - for the last few months now.  Just when I think I'm getting ahead and can do more, it hits again and I'm down for the count - and the simplest, stupidest things can set it off.  Like turning to look at something by twisting around instead of moving my feet. (OW!  ... Grr.)  

And the pain (as I was saying in my opening) wears at you.  Even when other things take your attention and you forget the pain is there, one move and it reminds you that it has you. You become more irritable, less patient.  Your tolerance for everyday annoyances becomes practically non-existent.  At least mine does.  

And that can lead to some pretty stinking thinking.  Negativity.  Snappishness.  Resentments.  Or acute (and by that I don't mean clinical) depression.  

Those things creep up behind you when you've been strong (or tried to be strong) for a long time, and they grab you by the throat, sometimes through the most innocent of circumstances.  It takes a lot of acceptance and courage to let it go and to trust God when there seems to be no end in sight.  Especially when the feeling that you're being targeted, singled out, and attacked seems so overwhelmingly real.  

It's precisely BECAUSE the pain is always there, like a slow leak in your gas tank...  that when the ups and downs of life happen (as they do to everyone) they seem to require more of you or leave you running on empty.  

And you feel guilty for taking time so often to fill up, to look after your own needs instead of everyone else's. So you don't ... and the cycle starts all over again.  

I can't stress it enough.  Self-care is so very important.  You are the only you that you have, and if you're not at 100%, guess what. You're going to need rest, recharging, refueling more often.  There's no shame in admitting that you need rest, help, quiet, a hot bath, a walk (or a saunter, or a waddle in my case) in the park, a movie, a night out, or whatever it is that rejuvenates you. 

It's not a luxury.  It's an essential.

It's essential because you're you.  Okay, if you want other reasons, it's also because you can't give away what you don't have... so if others are depending on you (for whatever reason) you won't have the resources to help them if you're not looking after yourself. 

I've put myself in last place for so long that the habit is really hard to break. You know the habit I mean.  Put the food on everyone else's plate first (after all, it's polite.) Put everyone else's schedule first and fit your stuff in (if at all) at the end when you're spent from looking after their comings and goings. Spend money on everyone else at the store but not you; after all, there's no money left to spend, right? 

Carving out time for yourself is HARD.  It feels awkward.  You feel kind of guilty, ashamed of even admitting that you have needs, let alone taking steps toward meeting them.  That's the old messages of manipulation from your childhood creeping in, things you heard at school, from relatives, in church.  Silencing those voices is difficult and at first, they will be loud.  Very loud.  Attune your internal sensors to pick up the wistful whispers from your inner child, the one that always had to wait, always got the leftovers, always was overlooked. 

It doesn't mean that you're selfish.  It means that you have your priorities in the right order.  Your relationship with God. Then your relationship with YOU. THEN your relationship with others.  

And one more thing.  (This was tough for me, and it still is.)  Embrace the word "No."

I think that tonight, I need to spend some time with a few close friends in an accepting atmosphere, and I know just where to find that.  :D