The Labels That I Live

Week two into the individual focused CPT evidenced based therapeutic intervention for my PTSD brain, and already I am motivated to start blogging. The burning question of the day is, "Who gets to define us?"

This isn't a new question for me, of course. In grad school, I struggled with all of the modalities with which we were presented, because they all placed the family therapist at the center of the experience as the expert with the power to label and define another person's experience. And the ones that did resonate with me were not on the "authorized" list of modalities from which I "allowed" to chose.

Is it "Avoidance?" Is it, "Adaptive?" Does it really matter?

What continues to stand out the most from today's session is how she described the process of unpacking my resistance to her labels. She said she appreciated the opportunity to get to know my internal experience...she said that's what she loves most about being a therapist.

That's exactly what happened, today. I had an internal experience that she noticed, because my demeanor changed, the tone of my voice changed, my body language changed. She could have simply moved on, but she didn't. She stopped, and she asked about what was happening on the inside of an experience that only I have access to, that only I can describe.

It's what I miss most...having people in my life who don't just "drive by" the crash scene. They stop. They ask if you're alright. They're not afraid of the blood. They help you clean up the glass. They care about what's happening on the inside, not just the damage to the car or the stop sign. They fight for the right to stay with you, even when the police officer clearing traffic tells them to move on.

Labels are how we learn about the world...tree, bird, earth, sky. Labels are also how we learn about the inner world of another person's experience. And therapy is about challenging the labels we protect, the labels we live, the labels that limit our self-defined world.

I'm glad she stopped, that she didn't just move on, that she gently challenged the labels that I live.

Between a Stone and a Hard Place

Two visits to the ER and hours of research on kidney stones have led me to the realization that this heinously painful stone is the karma of the "lifestyle choices" that I have become. I am not some hapless victim of this stone; I am its creator, its dark master, and the wielder of its fate.

I find it more than a bit interesting that my last blog entry was about feeling surrounded by battle with no place for comfort. And from the vantage point of two years worth of hindsight, I see clearly how I have turned to "ingestibles" for  the "comfort" I don't find in my world. (I can't call it "food," because processed, fat and sugar-infested "crap" hardly qualifies as food.)

This kidney stone is the manifestation of everything that is painful and not working in the relationship with my self. And the "hard place" is, of course, what to do with that invisible, intangible, yet inescapable feeling of being surrounded by battle with no place for comfort...knowing that I can no longer "ingest" the comfort that I seek.

No Comfort

It is such a painful feeling, to have no place for comfort. I am surrounded by battle in all directions, but there is no comfort to be found, not even here in my peace sanctuary. Yes, I have peace. I have quiet. I have solitude. But I find no comfort, no respite from the angst and outrage, even here.

It is like Winston's world, where Big Brother's presence follows everywhere. The telescreen is always on. The recording ever present. No place to hide from the inescapable gaze of the oppressor. Not even utter darkness and silence, because the Thought Police invade like invisible spies.

There is no place for comfort.

Am I a Bigot?

The question of whether I am a bigot has started to itch just beneath the surface of my self reflection; because I have become increasingly aware of just how obstanately intolerant I am of certain kinds of people:

• Liars & Deceivers.

• People who promote fake news (even in the face of FACTS that refute the fake news).

• People who support racism, sexism, xenophobism, homophobism.

• People who do not have a firm grasp on what defines racism, sexism, xeonophobism, homophobism.

• People who cry "Fake news!" to anything that doesn't fit their paradigm...even if it is factual information.

• People who don't care that Donald Trump is constantly lying.

• People who don't even seem to care about what the truth is, anymore.

I can't even engage in any level of conversation with these people, so intollerant of this impossibly bizarre world I see them live in. I have started to hate them, even. Does this make me a bigot?

The Road Less Traveled

I love that well-worn Robert Frost poem about two roads diverging in a yellow wood, and how he, as a traveler, had to make a choice as to which road he would take. In the end, he "took the one less traveled by," which, of course, "made all the difference."

Poets are such great painters of life's poignant truth.

I think we all have roads that are more and less traveled within our lives. The well-worn roads become the easy, comfortable, safe choices, or routine habits that create the primary structure of our lives. They're not bad or wrong...they just function differently than the roads that we travel less upon...the scarier roads with harder choices, higher prices, deeper pains, or higher risks for one reason or another....which is precisely why they are the roads we travel less upon.

But I also believe that these less traveled roads are unique to each person, and help to create the beautiful landscape of individual personal growth by challenging each person to step outside of their comfort zone, to trust the journey, and to take risks that they might not otherwise choose in their every day travels.

Yesterday I had to make a seemingly innocuous choice about tune selection for my first piping competition. My instructor recommended the much more difficult tune, even though it was not the tune that I played the best. Or, I could have chosen the well-worn comfortable set of tunes that I could essentially play in my sleep...the decision was ultimately left up to me.

The choice was painfully difficult.

What I learned about my own divergent roads is that the well-worn road that weaves itself so effortlessly through my world is called The Road Less Stressful. This is the road that my PTSD brain has helped to create as the go-to road for managing & controlling the panic and anxiety that wreaks so much havoc in my life. I didn't even realize how much that I choose this road, until I came face to face with how difficult it was to choose my own road less traveled.

The hallmarks of PTSD are avoidance & isolation...oh, and control. And I've spent the last 30 years reordering my world to avoid people, places, and things that generate stress, because the more stress there is, the more anxiety & panic there is. So, I have come to choose The Road Less Stressful as my default was of managing my PTSD symptoms.

The Road Less Stressful is also affectionately known as My Personal Comfort Zone.

But this is precisely why the journey of piping has been so therapeutic for me, because everything I do pushes the envelope of my internal zone of comfort that has become so dysfunctionally small, it threatens to suffocate the life that binds me. Yesterday was not an easy or pleasant day, but I caught a glimpse of how I am actually expanding my comfort zone (and helping to heal my brain) every single time I choose The Road More Stressful.

Yes, that's right...The Road MORE Stressful.

It seems illogical to me how a MORE stressful path could help to heal my brain, but that's what it's been doing...slowly, over time. The choices don't always have to be monumental choices, but understanding the relationship between these two roads...and the wonderful health benefits that are evident when I retrace this crazy piping journey...is helping me to become a better piper (and person). Good grief, I couldn't play my practice chanter for more than 10-15 seconds without having a panic attack (when I first started)...and yesterday I chose to compete with the much more difficult tune to...in public...with a stranger as judge...in a highly chaotic environment...for my very first competition...and I didn't die?

Definitely a better person.

Yep, two roads diverged in a green piping field...I chose the road more stressful...and it has made all the difference...

Ace of Spades

Week 1, card 1; the Ace of Spades. I decided to just work through a suit at a time, rathet than trying to decide symbolic meaning for each. But the funny thing about this card is that when I engraved the card with the it's meaning, it wasn't until many hours later that I realized that the word I had intended to engrave on the card wasn't the word that got engraved.

I intended to engrave "Choice," but the word "Change" was engraved, instead.

At first I was upset, because it felt like the cards were already "ruined." But as I processed the unintended engraving faux pas, it forced me to process the relationship between change and happiness in my life.

Change is such a loaded word, but this card is really all about the Serenity prayer...Grant me the Serenity (one of the many faces of Happiness)...to accept the things I cannot CHANGE...the courage to CHANGE the things I can...and the wisdom to know the difference. It's all about change! And the obstacles that I can't accept absolutely create a block to experiencing Happiness.

Change happens.

Change is choice...but it's also very much about the parts of our lives that get changed whether we choose them, or not. But the degree to which I fight the change I can't control absolutely affects my ability to experience true happiness in my daily life...and there is much I can't accept.

I know it's sappy to have this card be all about the completely over used cliché Serenity Prayer, but it works...and it's the perfect first card in my Happiness Deck.

But the hardest part about this card is accepting what I cannot change when an important relationship is involved. I remember another quippy cliché that said something like, "If you don't like something change it...if you can't change it, leave it...and if you can't leave it, accept it." I've never figured out what to do if something is unacceptable...I guess that's what this process is all about with this deck of Happiness Cards...to answer the question of how to live a meaningful life in spite of the unacceptable thorns that embed themselves too deeply within our soul to remove them on our own.

So...Change it is...whether that change happens by intentional choice, invisibly beneath the surface, or by circumstances we may not ever choose or be able to control.

Serenity, Now!!

Well, if I want the Serenity, I guess I have to do the courage and acceptance parts, too...who knew that Happiness was so much work!

Playing The Cards I've Been Dealt

I turned 52 last week, which officially makes this my "deck of cards" birthday. So I bought a deck of cards as a process tool for this coming year...52 cards...52 weeks. It's a lovely deck of cards, with an M medallion, symbolic of my last name, and I am very excited about what this next year holds for me.

So what am I going to process?

I've been thinking about the four basic emotions: Mad, Sad, Glad, and Fear. Every single other emotion can be classed into one of these four categories. But the interesting part of this fact is how there are three basic "negative" emotional states, but there's only one "positive" emotional state.

There's only one positive emotional state!

There are many ways for this fact to be considered, but I believe that happiness is the core emotional state that we are born to experience. Stating this in a different way, in the absence of fear, anger, and sadness, the emotion that exists is happiness in one form or another. I believe that we are created with happiness as the primary emotional state that drives our entire life journey.

But, if we are inherently happiness-driven beings, why are there so many unhappy people?

I don't know the answer to this question, but there is a metaphor that people use to explain their unhappy lives, the metaphor of the crappy hand that they've been dealt, as if the cards themselves are crappy, which means that they must learn how to play their hand with the crappy cards they've been dealt.

What if crappy cards don't really exist?

I'm not defining how anyone else plays their life cards, but I no longer believe in crappy cards OR crappy hands. I believe that we are created inherently and essentially with a full deck of 52 happiness cards, and it's up to each person to decide for themselves how their happiness cards are defined and created.

But what about them pesky jokers?

Yep, the jokers are the problem...lol. There are two of them, and every problem in life is created by one of the two jokers...lol. I call my jokers "Nature" and "Nurture." Every obstacle in my life has been created by one of these two tricksters...lol...and they sure can create a lot of chaos.

I'm done playing with the Jokers.

I no longer want to focus on the Jokers that create roadblocks to playing with and enjoying my deck of Happiness cards. This year is going to be all about the discovery of how my 52 happiness cards are defined...by me...and I don't care what the Jokers think about all of this...lol.

This year is going to be all about the Happiness.

52 cards...52 weeks...52 positive emotional states of happiness that even the Jokers can't destroy.

I think I'm going to very much enjoy playing with this deck of cards...deal me in!

New Address

I've changed my address many times, but today I changed my address in an unexpected way. The property was initially set up backwards, so the front is actually the back and vice versa. Today I turned things right side up and corrected the topsyturvy error by having the address of the property changed to reflect the reality of what is happening with the property (rather than what is "supposed" to be, but isn't). And it's a wonderfully fantastic feeling to know that no one else has ever lived at the property's address...that I will be the very first person who has ever lived at this brand new address.

Now I'm really feeling fancy.

I think what's so lovely about this journey is the parallel process of my life. It isn't just about building my own home, it's about creating my own vision, rather than renting space in someone else's vision.

It's also about forging new pathways, rather than being shuttled from point A to point B in the ruts of out-dated thinking. Everything about my life right now is about creating something that didn't previously exist, and it's scary, but it's liberating in a way that I've never experienced.

I have felt turned upside down, unable to get my bearings for a very long time, so having my property bearings corrected feels pretty great. And where I live may not be the most glamorous part of the world, but it's beautiful in its own way. 

Yep...I am very much falling in love with this weed infested canvas upon which my brave new world is being created and turned right side up.

Feeling Fancy

Something wonderful has happened this week...something that has never happened to me before...something that is so deliciously luxurious it is making me feel fabulously fancy.

I've never felt this fancy in my life.

Last night I sat at a crowded kitchen table with the man who is drafting the plans to my dream home. I sat there saying things like, "I want this..." and "No, I don't want that..." until MY dream was completely jotted down onto what had previously been the unfanciest piece of white paper ever. Yet, there it was, in multi-colored chicken scratch and engineering codes I don't understand, the vision of my very own dream home in its full two dimensional glory.

So, yeah...I'm feeling pretty fancy, today.

I've never owned my own home...ever. So, this is the first time I've ever done anything at all like this. I've created many homes, but always by adapting what already existed from someone else's rented vision, never my own.

I've finally stopped renting other people's vision!

What I'm doing right now is what I imagine all the fancy people get to do with their fancy lives every day. I, myself, have never lived the fancy life, so it doesn't even matter that it's just a tiny little home, because the square footage doesn't change this essentially brilliant and beautiful process of transforming the vision of my mind's eye into the home of my heart's creative dream.

This whole process is just deliciously fancy, and I'm going to enjoy every fancy bit and morsel along the way.

I'm glad I didn't settle for the quick-fix crapped out mobile home, or even the brand new (all boxed up) tiny mobile, because after 52 years of believing that fancy women wear swanky red dresses, it's partucularly lovely to discover that a person can still feel fancy even wearing comfy blue jean cutoffs and a tanky t.

Life After Death

One of the other trees on my property has the same kind of sproutlings as the dead tree stump I wrote about yesterday. But the sproutings are just that...tiny outcroppings that are nothing more than tiny clusters of branches that will never become a whole tree again.

The tree is dead...yet, tiny sprigs of life remain.

That's just the way life is. There are some life events that irretrievably change who we fundamentally are...life events that turn a part of our life progression into a hacked off tree stump. And while that part of our life essentially dies, the life force within remains in tact, allowing tiny sprigs to spring forth from time to time, reminding us that there is still a desire within for the tree to exist, even when the tree, itself, has died.

My mom's death is just like the dead tree stump, but the relationship itself still grows out of that irretrievable loss, just like that cluster of tiny warrior sprigs that refuse to let the essential truth of the tree cease to exist.

I love the beauty in this dichotomy between life and death...and the paradox of how life can still grow out of death and decay.

The tree stump stays...and I will create something lovely and amazing in that space to remind me that life after death does, indeed, exist.

New Growth

Escrow has closed, the deed has been recorded, and I am officially a property owner for the first time in my life. I have been pulling weeds for more than a week while I try wrapping my mind around what I've done...and also how I am going to do what I've set out to do.

The property itself is peaceful and quiet, which is helping a lot, but I still feel like I'm going to explode. I want this to all come together quickly, but that isn't an option for me, so I need to just settle in to the long haul and learn how to breathe through the anxiety.

Just breathe, and trust this process.

This isn't the first time I've had to trust the process when I couldn't see how it would all turn out, (nor is it the most expensive endeavour), but it's definitely the most challenging thing I've ever undertaken.

So I pull weeds while I wrap my mind around what I am doing.

There are a lot of weeds, but there is also a lot of dead stuff that needs to be removed...a couple of small trees that didn't make it through the Arizona heat...the rotting corpse of some poor hapless cat...and a tree stump on the far side of the property. The biggest problem is the tree stump, of course...because there are some fresh sprouts that have miraculously begun their own journey to treehood.

Now what do I do?

What do I do with this new growth fighting to survive?

When I found these warrior sprouts I cried...because I understand these sprouts as if it were my own fight for survival. And I want to encourage their survival, but can these sprouts yield a viable tree? Am I giving them false hope by letting their journey continue unimpeded?

The Opposite Direction

Well, this week has proven to be more than just a bit stressful. I learned that the polyps removed were adenoma tissue, the type of tissue that tends to develop into colon cancer. It's not the worst case scenario, but it's what we hope will not be the case every time we find these highly dangerous sessile polyps. I don't yet know what stage of development these three were, but I'll get a copy of the path report myself when I get back to Arizona.

Time to raise the stakes.

I also had more polyps removed, only these were removed from my small intestine, so I will be holding my breath for the path findings on these jewels of my inner Nile. A person may live fairly well without a colon, but loss of the small intestine ups the ante quickly and quite profoundly.

I can't change my genetic coding...it is what it is...and it predisposes me to the many forms of a cancer I've been outrunning for most of my life. I won't outrun it forever, of course, but there are other battles I am fighting along the way...like keeping my body parts in tact, for one.

I'm not ready to stop outrunning the cancer, but the funny thing is that my response to this is the exact opposite of what I might expect it to be. I would think this would kick my traveling gypsy into high gear, but movement is the last thing I want or need right now.

What I need is to be still.

These past ten years of chaos and constant movement have been all about the loss of my sanctuary of peace...my home. I've tried to create this many different ways, but I've been going about it in the wrong way. I can see that so clearly now.

Cancer has a funny way of clarifying one's vision.

So, home it is. Even if it's found in an imperfect place in imperfect ways, Yes, Tumbleweed is my home, but I need to have a sanctuary of peace where Tumbleweed and I can sit in healing stillness for an indefinite period of now.

Me, Myself, and I

Tomorrow is the official "Day 1" of my water fast, although technically I've already started (since I haven't eaten since lunch). And as I lie here trying to get to sleep...and can't (of course)...I realize that I will need to get used to not being able to sleep while I am fasting...and that's when a very difficult truth made itself known: The only reprieve I get from this seemingly never ending miserable feeling that I endure each day is when I can manage to catch some sleep. And in the absence of any substantial prospect of sleep anytime soon, I don't think I can stand to be with myself for that amount of time.

The beauty of Truth is that it opens up a potential path to Freedom...walking that path always remains a choice.

This is not a sad and pathetic feeling that I just experienced. I actually feel empowered to have finally shed the heavy, dense layers of congested distraction from around me and my life, bit by bit, this past year. Tumbleweed, and all of the sorting and downsizing are just transitory layers of this greater journey to Freedom & Independence.

How can I ever experience true Freedom, if l can't even stand to be around myself?

So, I would say that my spiritual goal for this fast has just been cast...to sit with myself through the long dark nights when sleep evades because I'm suffering at worst, and uncomfortable at best. It won't be easy, of course...but it's OK, because I won't be alone...God is always awake, too.

Freedom & Independence

A friend posted an article about "purpose" that has continued to generate some deep introspection. The article discussed a simple, straight forward way to shed some light onto what our true life purpose is. Three questions...not difficult to answer, but the answer itself may be surprising for some.

Freedom & Independence.

My three answers nuggeted my life purpose down to Freedom & Independence. And it's true. I can look across the span of my entire life through this lens, and it makes perfect sense. Every person has their own purpose, of course...but sometimes our lfe purpose intersects with another's, which is the case with my friend, whose purpose was uncovered to also be Freedom.

Common journeys.

I probably already knew that Freedom was the common thread of spirit that linked us, but it still surprised me that I hadn't figured that out, before. I then wondered how our collective lives could be different if we as a humanity knew what each other' life purpose was, and proactively supported them more intently. But, like most important life lessons, t's not that simple.

Common journey...uncommon path.

It's also nothing new that there are an infinite number of ways to achieve the same goal, and that is most surely true of my friend and me. Freedom may be a common journey, but the path that we each take to manifest this purpose couldn't be more different. Her path inspires me, but aspects of it terrify me, as well. And I am certain that the way that I walk my Freedom path would never be a path of choice for her.

Common journey...divergent paths.

There is another person in my life whose life purpose is also Freedom & Independence. But the problem (for me) is that watching him walk his path doesn't just terrify me, it hyperventilates me. As a diabetic, he flirts with death every single day by eating anything and everything he wants, and I can't watch it any longer. I can accept that he may have the right to die from "death by diet," but that doesn't mean that I am bound by any code of duty or obligation that forces me to participate even as a passive bystander.

This layer of acceptance is not easy, and has not come without great personal struggle. But I just can't watch this man I have loved for nearly all of my life eat himself into a diabetic coma.

I can't. And I won't!

The difference between my friend's path and my dad's is that I can very clearly see how much personal joy her path brings to her world, even though parts of it terrify me. I can't see that with my dad's path...I only see addiction and self ruin. That is his choice, of course...but it is also my choice to be around it (or not). 

Knowing something doesn't make the hard choices any easier.

Freedom is a fickle friend. The price can be high, sometimes with an unbearable loss. Perhaps there are some with a greater sense of compassion than I, who could walk this journey to a dark and dangerous personal freedom with someone they love dearly...but I just can't.

That doesn't mean that I will abandon him, or the relationship I've worked so long and hard to get to a good place....because I can't do that, either. But I will find the path that intersects our common thread in a way that allows me walk with ALL of my heart...because I also want nothing less than this for my dad, too.

For anyone interested in reading the article mentioned in this blog, it can be found at the link below. But, proceed with caution, as the truth may set you free...whether you are prepared for it, or not.

http://m.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.huffingtonpost.com%2F2015%2F01%2F23%2Fdiscover-your-life-purpose_n_6481866.html%3Fir%3DHealthy%2BLiving%26ncid%3Dfcbklnkushpmg00000030&h=FAQG-Zg1e&enc=AZN48nMtbkKlOKwFjOrWR4HWOwWa5UaM4CjG1txZ4mNV5yd0YcxdRHhl28HRux13mCwMy9kZSzgtT0pWJmGMcHaX   

Legacy

It's either very late, or very early (depending on which day I want to consider as "today," on this yet another sleepless night). Either way, I have been up thinking about my legacy.

What do I want my legacy to be?

I did not have children of my own. But, my bother's oldest boy has a son (the first great grandchild of my mom) born just a few short months ago, and my very pregnant niece has only 10 weeks left in her own pregnancy before her miracle little girl is born. I also have a niece with three delightful children on the east coast that I hope to one day meet. And I have other nieces and nephews who do not yet have children...or, perhaps never will. And, I want very much to be a part of ALL of their their lives (because I love them very much!), but I may have passed from this earth before these little ones are old enough to get to know me for themselves.

What are the stories that my nieces and nephews are going to tell about me when they share the part of our family history that I am writing with my life?

There are moments of clarity...glimpses of deeper truths or some divine inspiration that sparks awareness...and in this moment, I am just so very clear that I absolutely want them to talk about their crazy aunt who played the bagpipes as she traveled around with her crazy cat like a real life gypsy with her Tumbleweed trailer that she built herself ...lol!

What a glorious piece of family history I am going to leave behind!

I want them to know that it's OK to create their life anyway they want to! That it's OK to live outside the box. Or to live inside the traveling box they build for themselves...lol. I want to make it clear that adversity doesn't have to destroy who they are, even if it feels that way every day until it doesn't...and even panic attacks (or a reactive brains) aren't enough to stop them from living the life of their dreams.

I think my life is about to get even more outrageous than it is, already!

Footloose & Pipefancy Free

Well, it looks like my dad's house is going to sell, which is going to change a lot of things for me. And, it looks like I am going to need to make a choice...

Faith, or Fear?

I have found this amazing piping program that is absolutely going to rock my piping world. But, the program is in Riverside...my dad will be in Kingman...and the OT program that has been very helpful for my brain is in Prescott. Clearly, I can't live in all three places...but I could travel, quite easily, between the three.

Is Tortle up for the challenge?

There is a clear loop that would be easily driveable between these three locations, a loop of less than 800 miles each week. I was driving more than this when I was commuting to and from OT from Kingman every week. The other added benefit to southern California is that I have a lot of friends and family who live here, so I could stay better connected, too. Plus, my home VA is here in Socal, the one I have travelled back and forth to each year for my physicals and GI stuff.

I would very much enjoy this migratory loop, but it will quickly add up the miles onto Tortle's tally. So, I will have to get the engine rebuilt when that times comes...and it will.

I have the emergency money in savings to take care of the engine rebuild, but I won't be able to do that AND buy the lot in Kingman...but, that's not the worst outcome possible, I suppose.

Roots are made in more than one way.

Yes, buying the lot and creating a stable home base is one way to create roots. But, being a part of my niece's and nephew's lives (and the lives of the amazing babies they're growing) is also a way to cultivate roots...it's just different. Roots are grown with every relationship we flourish with, so I would still have roots, even while traveling on the road.

Bottom line: Family is very important to me...and, so are my friendships.

So, it looks like Tumbleweed and I are about to get very mobile...for as long as Tortle can hold out. And, when her little engine wears out, then we'll either fix it, or upgrade to a heavier duty and warmer 4 season driving option.

You can do it!

My life is about to explode with amazing bliss...so, let's get this party started!

New Year's Resolutions

Yep, it's that time of the year, again. The season of making inventories of our year to see what worked, what didn't, and what changes we want to make. But even more important than this, it's also the season for every single doomsdayer to crawl out from beneath whatever methodology of crystal ball they use to make predictions about the days (and year) to come.

Why are we so obsessed with knowing what the future holds?

I think it boils down to three inter-related words: Trust, Hope, and Faith. We want to be able to Trust that our future is secure...but we will Hope for the best (perhaps, even preparing for the worst). Yet, in the absence of Trust or even Hope, we continue to move forward based on whatever or wherever we place our Faith...and, yes, every single person has Faith.

Are we hardwired for Faith?

Faith is a word that seems inextricably linked with religion or spiritualism. But I think Faith is much deeper and more prevalent than this. Faith is the unconditional Trust (and Hope) in something. The athiest may have no Faith in any diety, but they are still motivated by Faith. For some, it is Faith in themselves...for others, it is Faith in humanity. But, no matter what the source, every single person's life choices are motivated by their Faith.

And, New Year's Resolutions are absolutely about the renewal of one's Faith.

I think my Faith is changing. I have been living my life having Faith in my "cat-like" qualities of nine lives and always landing on my feet. But I also think that I have (long ago) reached the edge of this Faith's very limited ability to comfort and guide me through a dangerous and rocky terrain.

Let go, and let God...

I don't let go very easily...I never have. But, this inability to let go leaves my spirit cold and damp, ever heavy and exhausted. And I absolutely want to trust in something greater than myself, because I, alone, am incompetent when it comes to reconciling the painful thorns that remain deeply embedded within my spirit.

Transitions in Faith aren't easy...or quick to achieve...or, are they?

Maybe I'm making this harder than it need be...perhaps. Hope is much easier for me, thouh, than Trust.

Faith versus faith.

I have been living life with lower cased faith...that trust and hope in myself and my skills & abilities. But, what I'm looking for now is that Faith with a capital F...that larger than life Trust and Hope that keeps me warm, even when I am unable to light the spirit fires from within.

Yes, that's it...my personal new year's resolution is the search for Faith with a capital F...a Faith that transforms the rest of my life to its perfect plan and purpose for my life.

Dare I Hope to find or achieve this elusive goal? I shall try...I most certainly shall try...

At The Crossroads

I have continued to process this invisible "betting" process, and I realized this morning that I bet differently against other people than I do myself. My bets against others are from a place of certainty, of knowing (based on experience and expectation) what the outcome is going to be, so they tend to be a singlen specific outcome. (e.g., He's going to end up in a diabetic coma out in some random parking lot!

A single, specific outcome....bet made...sure and certain.

But the bets that I make against myself aren't so clean and clear, because they're made based on multiple probable/possible outcomes that roughly fall into three general categories.

P/PO #1: Plan succeeds without a hitch or glitch....i.e., everything works out just fine.

With respect to my trip to Nova Scotia, this equates to the car runs fine, and we have "clear sailing" all the way to Nova Scotia (and back). It's possible. It could happen. And if I focus all of my attention on just this outcome, I am filled with an exuberant sense of adventure that thrills my spirit. This is the best possible outcome, the one that I want, of course...but this isn't the only possible outcome I could bet on.

P/PO #2: Plan succeeds, but minor obstacle needs to be overcome along the way...i.e., Everything eventually works out, but there will be some minor problems along the way.

OK, so the car has minor issues along the way that are easily repairable, but we would still make it to Nova Scotia and back in spite of the minor setbacks. This would be an acceptable outcome, as well...I still succeed, even if it costs me some extra money. But this isn't a big problem, because I've prepared for this contingency.

Ah, yes...always be prepared.

I have learned that I have better chances to succeed when I have planned & prepared for many contingent problems. So, I upgraded the trailer with brakes. I replaced the car's ceramic brake pads with metallic. I've repaired or replaced old car parts as much as possible. I pack the trailer in the most weight efficient way possible. I have AAA roadside assistance. I have insurance on everything. I have prepared for this trip with as much preparation for contingencies as possible, so I am prepared for P/PO #1 and/or #2. But there is always that dreaded third outcome to bet on...

P/PO #3: Plan fails.

Worst case scenario is definitely that the car completely craps out on me, leaving me stranded someplace where I can't get back home....or even worse, someplace dangerous or life threatening. Yep, this is definitely the third outcome to bet on.

Windows close in 1 minute, make your final bets.

I want some kind of insurance policy that guarantees my safety. I want to know ahead of time that I will make it. I want every positive force in the universe to be betting on me to succeed right along with me! I'm not betting against my self, at all.

I want to succeed!

But here's what's so fascinating to me: I may want to place my bet on P/PO #2 (because this is the most likely outcome), but my fear of outcome #3 is what stops me from betting at all. Not because I am betting against my success. No, it's the fear of #3's possibility that stops me from turning the key and heading east.

I guess thoughts aren't the only currency used to place bets against myself.

So, here's the crux of the whole betting issue: Even though I am consciously wanting to place my bet on option #2, this Fear Factor is like a deadly snake whispering in my ear, scaring the spirit of adventure right out of the equation. And a sorrowful journey of anxiety and panic are just way too stressful to consider...and, so, I don't place my bet on ANY of the options.

But, by avoiding the possibility of option #3, I have stopped betting on myself.

I can't stop here. I can't let this be the way this chapter ends. Am I ready to give up and walk away from this part of my journey?

Am I really going to stop betting on my self, at all?

Not Knowing

Something interesting has happened on the otherside of no longer making unconscious bets about people. Well, two things: the first is the awareness that once I have placed my invisible bet on a specific probable outcome, my entire frame of mind aligns itself to support that probability. Since the majority of my "bets" are cynical and jaded in nature, my attitude automatically necessitates the negative synergistic alignment, which generally leaves me feeling surly and sarcastic....which, also does not readily lend itself for a positive mood or happy thoughts about self, or other.

Thoughts are the currency I use to place my bets about people.

The second unexpected finding is that when I intervene in my own thought process to challenge these bets, all of a sudden I am in a place of no longer knowing (or expecting) what the outcome will be, so there is no longer an investment of my frame of mind into the betting outcome. Which, surprisingly, frees up my emotions to be what they are in the moment...which opens up the whole realm of curiosity, which (for me) has the effect of lightening my spirit significantly.

Not knowing helps me to live more fully in the moment that is now.

These insights are quite significant, actually. And, I hope to continue amplifying the positive feelings that are emerging as I become curious about the outcome, rather than already "knowing" what that outcome will be.

There is a therapeutic intervention that is within the list of paradoxical interventions that has been used by Strategic Family Therapists to help break the habit of family members to make negative statements snd predictions. This involves the use of positive predictions, instead....such as, I predict I'm going to be happy all day long...lol.

I meant it when I said, All bets are off!

I have considered using this strategic technique with my current bets on people, but I am finding an odd enjoyment in this place of not knowing, instead...so, I think I will continue with the breaking of my betting habit....because it's working.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

As the fear of my dad's diabetes management fills my mind, I really have been able to stop the internal bets about his health, because the truth is I am not on control of how his body is going to respond to his lifestyle choices. People defy the odds every single day. So, I am learning how to live each day with the not knowing what is going to happen to him. The truth is that every day could be anyone's last day, so I am choosing to support my dad's success, instead.

I already know what's going to happen.

This is a HUGE bet that I make about people all of the time...and it usually involves the requisite accompaniment of rolling eyes. I caught myself today, and stopped the bet before I could cash in my thought currency...lol. And now I am back to feeling enthusiastic about the plans, letting them unfold in whatever way they are going to all on their own.

So...lots of positive change today.

And a last thought about this layer of my life journey. I didn't get here on my own. I really didn't wake up one day with the jaded and cynical colored eyes that shape and inform my interpretation of my life experience. It happened slowly and cumulatively as my brain was laying down it's neural circuitry during those early years of my life.

Understanding one's history isn't blame...it's self awareness.

I ran across a meme today that reminded me of an important truth, because this work that I'm doing is absolutely necessary, even if other people don't understand why I process so much of my journey.

It really is sooo much easier to build up a child, than it is to repair a broken adult.

And, while I understand the sentiment of this statement, I also don't think of myself as broken, because I'm not. My brain did exactly what God programmed my beautiful brain to do...it hardwired what it learned from the landscape of my very chaotic early life and the unfortunate traumatic events that I experienced along the way

My brain responded appropriately to inappropriate circumstances.

So, if the resultant circuitry requires much more effort than what other people need to do in their own lives (or what they think I should do in mine), then I am more than willing to do the hard work of fixing the way my brain is wired..

...because I believe that God thinks I'm worth it...and so do I.

May the Odds...

One side effect of not being able to sleep is the inability to stop the incessant mind chatter. But last night's chatter was a continuation of the question about "who is betting on me to succeed?"

This is not a "small" question. Meaning, I'm not asking a "woe is me, nobody is betting on me to succeed" kind of question. The question, itself, is rhetorical, of course. Because the "big" question is really about who are the collective we betting on to succeed?

Whose reality is it, anyway?

As I drove across town this morning my mind quickly created a list of Reality TV shows that are nothing more than a watered down version of the Hunger Games: American Idol, The Voice, Big Brother, America's Next Top Model, Project Runway, Survivor...the list could go on and on and on. And, the only real difference between any of these Reality shows and the Hunger Games is the degree of the elimination...that's it.

We are living the Hunger Games, with entire industries created to promote it.

And we all bet for or against the people in our lives every single day!

Statistics. Odds. Potential. Call it what you want, but this is the betting system our culture uses to make real-life wagers on or about the people in our lives.

I do it, too.

It makes me feel sick to my stomach to own this truth, but I do it too...I bet on people without ever realizing that I've done it! I bet against my dad every time I get scared about the way he manages his diabetes...and this list of all of the ways that I bet against the people in my own world could go on and on, too.

No more predictions of gloom and doom.

From this moment forward, I want to start betting on the success of the people that I love and care about...and that includes my self! I am the WORST offender in the "betting against me" camp. I undermine myself...I minimize my own strengths...and I pathologize my process to such a degree of painful shame that I stop my forward momentum before I ever get started.

I do this...to my self!

I am the one who has internalized the voices betting against me...I have done this to my self!

Well, no longer, because all bets are off!

The Real Hunger Games

I just finished my first reread of  Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games, and I can't stop thinking about this story (or the powerful characters that drive the plot). There are so many layers to it, that I am certain that I will be processing this book for many months to come.

Tonight's layer is about the role of the mentors.

As I am playing my practice chanter tonight, the all too familiar critical voices start to replay their toxic litany in my brain. Then it hits me how these internalized voices are exactly the same as the way Katniss has integrated Haymitch's character so much into her one psyche, she knew exactly what he was trying to tell her in the arena, even with no direct form of communication.

The voice of Katniss's mentor becomes inseparably synchronized with her own thought process.

Haymitch's voice was inside of Katniss...very much the same way these critical voices are inside of mine. And, more importantly, these critical voices are shaping my actions and responses in the real-life arena in very much the same way that Haymitch's internalized voice shapes Katniss's actions and reactions in the Capitol's Arena.

Why are my mentors so critical of me in my personal Hunger Games?

Katniss believes Haymitch hates her, but she also comes to respect his role (in spite of his critical gruffness). Yet, Haymitch isn't the only internalized voice that influences Katniss, of course...there's also Cinna. However, Cinna's internalized voice serves a completely different role than Haymitch's surly antagonistic voice. Cinna supports Katniss in a positive way, because (if he could) he would bet on her.

Cinna was betting on Katniss to succeed!

I can see very clearly how important it is to have positive and supportive mentors in my life...people who are betting on me to succeed. Do I have these people already and I've simply been overlooking their positive influence? Or do I need to figure out a way to find them?

Who are the people in my life who are betting on me?

It is an eye-opening realization to see just how many people in my life are actually betting on me to fail. Not intentionally...not maliciously...not even with any conscious knowlwdge that they are doing so. But their thoughts and opinions about me are, in effect, a bet against me...a bet that I will fail, a bet that I will disappoint in some way, a bet that I not live up to their expectations of what they think I should be.

The Hunger Games are real...and people are betting against me...not everyone...but they are. I feel it. I feel the truth of this deep and hard, because it is the truth. I'm not just imagining these critical thoughts. I have internalized them and let them shape my actions and reactions, yes, this is true. But these are the very real voices that are betting on me to fail, not to succeed.

Where are the people who are betting on me to succed?

Pacing

A dear friend posted a picture of her nursing school shoes, and a wonderful conversation emerged. Most notable (for me) was the symbolic relationship between the shoes and a person's pace. The shoes themselves have no pace, of course...it's the person inside of the shoes that creates the pace.

My shoes...my pace.

This may be a profound statement, but in reality (for me) this is not always the case, because I feel ever in battle with invisible forces that serve only to make me feel never good enough for failing to keep up with the expected pace.

You should be there, already.

It's me, of course. I am the one who has internalized this long list of shoulds. However, awareness alone is not enough to make this undermining stop.

Number 1 on my list is about my bagpipe progress. You should already be up on your pipes! This shaming force has undermined me so much, I have stopped practicing on the bagpipes themselves. I don't understand this, of course...when I so dearly want to learn to play them....and the not practicing only fuels the undermining even further.

Number 2 has to do with this trip to Nova Scotia, of course. Enough said.

When computer programming goes bad, all we generally have to do is reboot. If that doesn't clear out the glitch, we can erase everything and upload from the beginning. Brains don't work this way, of course...once a glitch is introduced, it takes great effort to rewire the connections to yield more positive outcomes.

Am I even wearing my own shoes?

There is another wise saying about not judging people until after walking a mile in their shoes. This truth implies that the shoes, themselves, hold some kind of inherent truth about a person or their journey. So if I am so easily undermined, I am forced to ask myself, "Whose shoes, then, am I wearing?"

Whose journey is it?

Truth tears burn hard. It matters how our parents send us out to face the world on our own. For me, it feels like whenever I walked my own journey, something bad happened to the parts of my life that meant the most to me. I can logically sort this through a rational lens that clearly shows no causal connection, but that doesn't change the feeling. And, I wonder if I've ever really stopped trying to live my mom's life for her.

I miss her so much. As angry as I was with her when she was alive, I have never really recovered from her loss. The news of her death hit me like a shock wave. I remember sitting in the chair in my COs office wondering what that sound was off in the distance...crying, someone was crying....only to suddenly realize that it was me....I was the person who was crying. My mind had completely blacked out. For how long? I'm not sure. Had I been standing I would have certainly fallen.

Some shockwaves just never seem to pass.

My mom is not to blame for where I am, now, any more than I am to blame for where she is. It's delusional wishful thinking on my part to believe that had I been at home (rather than stationed halfway 'round the world living my own life) I would have been able to save hers.

Bad things do happen when we're off living our own lives.

The shoes I wear have always been my own shoes, of course...even if I allow the thoughts and opinions of others (about how I should walk in them) to influence the way that I feel about myself as I do.

Does it really matter (to ME) how long it takes me to get up onto my pipes? Or how long it takes me to work out all of the related details for my trip to Nova Scotia? If it were just about me, it wouldn't.

There are many days that I actually wish I were marooned alone on a deserted island...with no one else to worry about except for me. It's a telling fantasy about how affected I allow myself to be at the expense of the opinions and expectations of others about me and how I choose to live my life. 

The funny thing is that these opinions & expectations don't really affect the choices that I make...just the way that I feel about myself when I do....which is interesting in a helpful insightful sort of way.

My shoes...my pace...my feelings.

Callus

Sitting here looking at the bottom of my feet, I notice something interesting. Even with the thick callus that has formed, the footprint remains clearly visible. Now, perhaps this isn't a Nobel Prize winning awareness, but it's important, to me, nonetheless, because this tells me that the callus is built up from the inside (i.e., the strength of the callus grows from the inside out).

My strength comes from within.

The other really important part of this awareness is about how the footprint remains clearly visible, no matter how thick the callus is. So, the callus, itself, remains unique to me. 

That which makes me stronger is unique to me.

Also, the callus is unique not only because of the footprintn but, also because the callus, itself, is built according to the unique obstacles that cause pain to my foot's tender flesh.

That which makes me stronger is specifically unique to my journey.

It's always a lovely gift when these amazing insights remind me of a deep and essential truth about who I am. But, it's an even lovelier gift when I can find so much beauty in something as callous as a callus...lol.

We may be able to walk a mile in another's shoes...but, now I can feel the depth of truth that even this is not enough to understand how or why another person walks their journey as they do.

I think I will walk differently today...as I make my way through this part of my journey upon the heels of inner strength that are unique to me, and me alone.

Home

I am all over the place today...literally. One minute I'm buying property here in Kingman...the next I'm packing up car and trailer to hit the road...and the next I'm migrating to Nova Scotia on a live-in caregiver's work visa.

What a crazy making day!

This flipfloppy place is all about home...and I feel absolutely schizophrenic today in this back and forth search for a way to create home (within the constraints of my very meager budget). But the problem is, where? Do I travel around and let the world be my home? Do I buy a piece of property to create the home that I come back to from one travel adventure after another? Or do I choose an ideally suited place and create home there?

How does a gypsy put down roots?

I guess it's called a container garden...a way to both root and travel at the same time...a traveling garden. And I don't even need to ask how to create this, because I've spent the last year doing just that...creating my traveling home that liberates me from a life of dependency upon the temporary use of other people's homes. My traveling home is real and ready to explore the world, so why am I in such a flipfloppy schizophrenic place?

Am I really done with the traveling life before I fully have the chance to experience it?

No, not done...but, definitely still pining for the more traditional ways to create heart and home...like a grieving process for the deeply rooted cultural values that haven't quite caught up with the change that I've been creating this year.

No, definitely not done...just waiting for the right moment to kick start this amazing journey into action....feeling terrified and exhillerated at the same time...

12 Minute Mile

This time last year I was ordering my Thanksgiving meal at the restaurant within walking distance from my downtown apartment. But when the tiny sip of gingerale hit my already cranky stomach like a lead brick, I wasn't sure if I should add food to the pain...so I apologized, then quickly walked home. And within the hour I was admitted to the local VA for a week long stay that very nearly ended in surgery.

I've waited a whole year to finally get my Thanksgiving dinner. So, today I went back to the same restaurant, ordered the same drink, the same meal, and this time I got to eat and enjoy it.

It doesn't matter how long it takes to do the things we want...it only matters that we get them done.

Gratitude is a funny thing. It's easy to be grateful for fancy cars, adoring spouses, and lots of money in the bank. But finding gratitude amidst the struggle in life requires a whole different set of gratitude skills.

My cousin's son died quite unexpectedly yesterday. He woke up Monday morning with what he thought was just a bad cold, then three days later he's on life support for a flu virus that took his young twenty-something life.

What am I waiting for?

I have intentionally put my life on-hold since June...to repair an aging vehicle ..to make safety upgrades to car and trailer...to save money for this trip to Nova Scotia. But at this point, what, honestly, am I waiting for?

Aaron's tragic death has lit a fire underneath my ass to wrap up my preparations and just get on the road!

It may have taken a year to finally get my Thanksgiving meal, but I did. So, it doesn't matter how long it takes me to get to Nova Scotia, I will get there one mile at time...

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig...

I remember the morning I left for basic training like it was just today. The recruiter showed up at 3am to pick me up, and off we drove into the cold dark morning. My mom was with me at my aunt's in Napa, and we both cried as if I were never coming home again...because that's how it felt...for both of us.

That's the way life changing events feel...they feel like you are never going to come home again.

I will be leaving Arizona in exactly one month, the start of not just a long over-due trip to Nova Scotia, but the start of a whole new way of creating my life...which is precisely the point of all of the work I've been doing to shed the layers of other people's expectations about who they think I'm supposed to be...a set of out-dated expectations that I have never wanted to live up to, but didn't know how to excuse myself from the clutches of the imposed duty and responsibility.

Living a life I create for myself is going to be no easy thing to do, but I am about to learn how to do it. Everything up to now has been preparation only...soon enough the world is about to get very, very real.

And I am just so aware of how different my life is about to become, and it feels like a part of me is dying...yet this truth doesn't make me sad at all.  And just like that cold dark morning nearly 30 years ago, I have no idea how all of this is going to turn out...but I am absolutely certain and determined that it will be the exact opposite experience of basic training...the exact opposite.

I don't think it matters how long it takes for us to find the truth of who we are from the inside out...it's just important that we do.

And I may never return home again, but I will be at home where ever I may be along this crazy adventure that took a lifetime to find...so, home again, home again, jiggety jig...

The Sun Explodes

I had a dream when I was at my dad's last week. In the dream, I am in the desert with my 8 or 9 year old child, when I look to the west to see the setting sun start to rise very quickly. I know the sun is about to explode, so I move the child into a semi-protected shelter to shield her. I don't see the sun explode, but from where I am standing I watch the blast of yellow particles blow past us. I turn around to embrace the frightened child, and tell her that mommy will do everything she can to protect her, but we both intuitively know that will not be enough. I also try to convey to her young mind how the world may be an unsafe place, but I want her to experience as much love and joy that she can in her childhood, even though I know that her innocence has been shattered along with the sun.

There are many powerful layers to this dream for me, but the part that I am processing right now is about the exploding sun...and asking deep, hard questions about what I choose and allow my life to revolve around...

What has become the sun in my world?

This is not an easy question to answer. Not because I don't know the answer, but because bringing the truth of this answer into the full light of day forces me to acknowledge what I know that I know, but have been avoiding and denying its existence because it is so painful to acknowledge.

The sun in my world has exploded...and the only question that remains is, "What is the sun that will replace it?"

Today is the first day in a very long time that is unencumbered by anything external that needs to be done...a day where I am free to do anything that I want...but, therein lies the problem. I have allowed the needs of other people to serve as my sun around which the rest of my life has revolved, so having a day that's all about me leaves me feeling sort of numb and flaggelating psychologically.

My sun...my needs...my passions.

To write this truth makes me feel narcissistic and self-centered, but the simple fact is that if I continue to put my needs second, I will cease to exist...metaphorically AND literally. Yet, I also believe that a life of self-centered needs is not the answer, either.

My Sun. . .my spiritual needs. . .my spiritual passions.

THIS Sun puts God at the center of my world, rightfully so...but, it is so much easier (for me) to put other people's needs before my own, yet, I don't know why. And every single time I try to readjust the balance, the guilt from a painfully deep place rises up to push myself aside, again.

So today is a day in search of the Sun in my own world...the unconditional source of never ending warmth that nurtures and feeds my spirit. I hope I can find it...

Middle of the Road

My trauma counselor uses the term "middle of the road" a lot...reinforcing that finding the middle of the road is what keeps us from avoiding and isolating. OK, fine...but what the heck does that mean in tangible everyday terms?

I think I'm finally having a  breakthrough on this issue, and I also think this it's really going to help to make a huge difference.

How do I know if/when I'm in the middle of the road?

As I'm driving through the terrain of MY life, the two sides of the road are essentially Anxiety on one side, with Depression on the other. But, I am starting to understand that what I call anxiety is really just a state of excited energy. Whereas, what I call depression is essentially an extremely low energy state...a state of psychological entropy if you will...like energy put into a cold box where everything slows to a non-functional pace. Which makes my middle of the road the living of each day between the high energy state, and the low energy state.

Still sounds abstract, but it's not!

If I am to live with PTSD, then I may not ever be able to change the fact that my brain reacts to anything new and different in such a way that I am constantly managing my anxiety levels so that I'm not having panic attacks. I can accept that...because it is what it is. And, the same is true of the depression, because that is the other side of the PTSD Highway...lol. It also is what it is.

But I recently started to feel the connection between my anxiety levels and my depression....the more anxious I feel, the more depression becomes like background radiation...but when the anxiety is decreased, the the depression is free to take over.

Finding the middle of the road means that I fill my day with things that will "excite" me enough to keep me in enough motion to keep the depression from overtaking my life. ...but not too much excitement to overwhelm me or trigger off panic attacks.

Well, duh!

Looking at what I've written seems so basic and simple, but there is a huge difference between abstract information and truth that is learned through our own experience. And, I finally feel like I have control of the reins of this emotional dichotomy...at least in this minute...lol.

You can't see it until you see it!

It's taken me a looong time to get here. Mostly because I had no idea what I was dealing with, so the emotional extremes were controlling me  But, I have been methodically paring down my life this year to remove as much anxiety as possible...and this process has helped me to be able to feel the difference...like the fish that finally understands water when it leaps up from the river.

I think I'm going to finally learn how to start living in the middle of the road...the middle of MY road!

The Rock

There is a rock that sits along the shore of the lake where I frequently hike...a rock that calls to me in the wee dark hours of the night when sleep evades me. And when I feel the pull of this rock upon my spirit, I am standing tall and proud upon it, playing my bagpipes loud and strong across the misted lake for the silent forest embracing both lake and lone piper upon its shore.

As I wept my way around this lake yestarday afternoon, carrying the full weight of my frustration with how hard it is for me to play the bagpipes, feeling ready to give up and walk away, the rock called to me again, as a gentle reminder that my spirit is already standing upon the strength of its stone...so it's not really the bagpipes from which I am preparing to walk away.

Why am I so afraid to embrace the spirit that so powerfully calls to me?

To imagine myself playing my bagpipes upon this rock terrifies me to my core. And, if it were just the lake and its forest I would have no problem to stand tall and let my spirit play. But the perceived judgment of the people cayaking across the lake's surface and hiking through the trees, this perceived judgment is what stops me cold and silences my voice.

There is nothing gentle or delicate about the voice of the bagpipe.

I don't know when (or how) I became so afraid of how powerful my voice is, but I do know that it happened long before I ever picked up the pipes that are making clear just how afraid I am to be loud and strong when I play...to be bold and powerful when I speak.

I think this is why I am having such a hard time transitioning from the practice chanter to the pipes. It's not that I'm not strong enough to play them...it's because I am unconsciously holding back when I play...unconsciously trying to soften the sound and lessen the loudness. But there is no way to minimize the powerful voice that is so quintessentially bagpipe...and, so, I weep, instead.

No, there is nothing delicate about the voice of the bagpipe.

Why am I so afraid of my power? I stand back, and hesitate. I wait to be invited in, rather than ask for what I want. I sit on the sidelines of my life as a not-so-innocent bystander wondering why I feel so isolated and alone. And, I weep my way around the rock where my spirit stands tall and proud as it calls me to do nothing more than to step into my self.

I may have wept my way around the lake yesterday, but I absolutely heard the rock loud and clear.

And I may be terrified of how powerful my voice is, but I am no longer willing to let this fear come between me and my bagpipes. So, today I opened up the great big garage door as tall and wide as it could be, then squeezed as hard as my little arm possibly could as I played my heart out...even though I felt terribly vulnerable and self conscious of what all of the people who were in earshot were thinking...and, even though I could actually hear neighborhood dogs howling as I played...lol. Today I didn't let anything stop the voice of my bagpipes from speaking as loud and strong as my arm could possibly help them to do on this day.

" Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid."

Today,I am certain that I will one day be strong enough to step into my spirit that awaits my embrace from upon the rock that calls to me in the wee dark hours of the night when sleep evades me...and, when that day comes, my voice will play loud and strong...even with a forest full of critters howling as I play...lol.

The Free Lunch

When I am wrong, I admit it, And, oh, how I am wrong! I am absolutely shocked by how complacent I have become about what I am agreeing to!!! Specifically, I am referring to all of these Terms of Service (TOS) Agreements that I have authorized (both on my cell phone, as well as online social media, in general) without even once reading them!

WTF is wrong with me?!

Well, I am reading them now, and not just reading them, but understanding the deeper significance of what they mean. Nearly all of these apps I've authorized have been uninstalled, and now I am trying to figure out how to deactivate the ones that come as a packaged deal with my smartphone.

How do I stay connected to people without selling off my privacy?

That is the problem, of course...the free lunch. Everyone wants free apps, but development of apps isn't free, so that money's gotta come from somewhere...and that "somewhere" is the bank of my personal information. I, myself, would rather pay for these apps with my money, than with the pieces of my personal information...but this is not even an option, as they make a whole lot more from third parties than they cpuld ever make from any user fee.

I'm ready to toss my friggen smartphone into the trash!

I honestly don't know what to do...the invasiveness is just so pervasive! But, am I really prepared to live like a hermit in defense of my principles?

What Dreams May Come

The world is stunned and saddened by the loss of Robin Williams to suicide, but the cold, hard truth is that we live in a world obsessed with happiness and sunshine...and depression is definitely one of the many dark stories that get labeled as "negativity" to be avoided...which makes the person who can sit and listen to (or walk with) a person whose life is being suffocated by depression one of the rarest of all human beings.

FYI...Depression is not "negativity" to be avoided.

I think this is the underlying problem with depression...it gets labeled as "negativity," then avoided at all cost...which means that the people struggling with the depression also get avoided...or worse...they are told (directly, or through non-verbals) by very well-intended people to "get over themselves," or to "move on," or the endless list of condescending advice that serves no one....and, leaves the person utterly alone in their fight for their life.

"I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone."

I have seen this quote by Robin Williams before, but it's particularly poignant on the other side of his suicide. My heart aches to think about how alone he had to feel (in order to end the painful life he could no longer bear). Maybe it's the depression itself that makes us feel all alone on the world, I don't know...what I do know is that depression is a living hell.

Depression is a living hell.

There are many Robin Williams' films that I have enjoyed over the years, but one of my most favorites is What Dreams May Come. It's a wonderful story, but what I love most about this film is how Robin Williams' character was literally willing to walk through hell to find his wife (who had ended up in hell after she had killed herself after a long and unsucceasful battle with depression).

How many people would walk through hell for me? For anyone?

I remember a particular moment in the middle of my divorce when a family member called and I was told, "I don't even have to ask how YOU are...you're always fine!" The person wasn't trying to be mean or offending at all...and probably meant it as a compliment about how strong and capable I am. But, I will never forget the blow to the truth about my life, and how utterly alone and insignificant this comment made me feel, as my life was literally falling apart around me.

There is so much more to a person than what we see on the surface.

Just because someone can laugh (or make other people laugh) doesn't mean they're fine. And, people who are depressed learn very quickly not to talk about the truth of their life when people politely ask how they are. But, when this becomes the status quo in a world obsessed by the happy sunshine, I understand completely how it starts to feel like the only way to escape is to end the dark story yourself.

I didn't know Robin Williams outside of the films he made, but I am profoundly affected by the way he ended the story of his own life. And I completely agree with him that the "worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone." So I am feeling personally very grateful that I, myself, have people in my life who I can trust won't avoid the polite social convention, "How are you?" just because the truth on the other side of my response is far from warm, fuzzy, or filled with the happy sunshine with which this chaotic world seems to be completely obsessed.

We all need people in our life to bear witness to the truth of our story, even when that story is infused with depression...especially when the dark story is infused with depression.

The In-Between

I'm no longer where I was...but, I'm also not (yet) where I want to be...which leaves me in the in-between space of the journey. The in-between isn't a bad place...it's just the segue between what was and what will be.

The in-between is a choice.

I am here because I choose to be. I am in a good place, actually. Sarra and I are safe. My time is my own. I'm staying in a judgment-free environment. I'm close enough to VA  facilities to continue with PTSD treatment. The trailer has been upgraded with the brakes to make travel safer. And, most importantly, I am able to add money each month into the travel fund for the trip to Nova Scotia that commences in the Spring.

I choose to be here, because this is the best of all possible choices available...for now.

The problem is that I need to keep reminding myself that this is a choice...because I'm chomping at the bit to move onward and upward away from the emotional stagnation of sitting and waiting in this in-between place, because movement, even wrong movement seems a better option than the sitting and the waiting.

I don't do well with sitting and waiting.

This in-between is the path of greatest resistance (for me)...but, I'm very grateful for everything positive and wonderful that this slowed down part of the journey has to offer...which is a lot, actually. So, if there is so much positive, why is there so much resistance?

I should be.........

Yep, that's it...the long, painful list of self-judgments about everything some part of me thinks I should be doing...but I'm not.

Perhaps Sharon is right..."the thing" itself isn't the problem...it's my self-judgments about "the thing" that"s the root cause of the problem...and definitely what's causing the pain.

My profile pic today says the following: "Allow time to recharge when you need to, so you can walk on renewed in both body and mind." Well, this is exactly what this in-between time is all about, because it's exactly what I need. 

So, I'll deal with this long, painful list of "shoulds" and "should nots"...because there is nothing about it that helps to recharge and renew my body, mind, or spirit.

Bystanders

It's not easy being a bystander to someone else's difficult life journey...whatever that difficult life journey is. I get it. It's the same reason why I severely limit my contact with world news...it makes me feel helpless and powerless, which then triggers the whole cascade of invisible emotional habits in response to feeling helpless & powerless to change the negativity in the world...and who wants to feel powerless and helpless all of the time? No one.

What do you do with a whirling dervish?

This is one of the questions I was asked yesterday by my trauma counselor, and my answer was, "avoid it." Which is exactly the answer that a person who has adopted the habitual lifestyle of avoidance and isolation would say...lol.

Avoidance and isolation have become the emotional habits of the way that I live my life.

But, the deeper truth is that I have invisibly adopted this lifestyle, because I have not (yet) learned how to be in the presence of chaos without absorbing it like an emotional sponge, or getting caught up in it like a powerless and helpless doll.

So, what DO you do with a whirling dervish?

According to my trauma counselor, you observe it. You watch it, but don't personalize or absorb the chaos. You see what's happenening, but you don't respond to it or get sucked up into the vortex of chaos. You simply observe it...which has nothing at all to do with "simple" or "easy."

What do you do, then, when you have become the whirling dervish in someone else's world?

It's how I feel, of course...that people avoid me because of the unpleasant feelings their own powerlessness stirs up for them. It's human nature...and, is probably hard-wired into our primitive survival brain to do so.

I still remember the workshop with the artist whose husband was so severely depressed he could barely function. He attended the workshop, but she wasn't caught up in the whirling dervish his depression created. I was very aware of it (because I felt uncomfortable by how depressed he was), but I was also impressed by how she set him up in the corner with the day beds and then let him be...just as he was. He was free to participate (or not), but his whirling dervish had no (apparent) affect on her. I'm sure it didn't start out that way, but after all of the years of living with a man who struggled with severe depression, she had learned how to observe without feeling powerless and helpless...which made it possible for her to love her husband just as he was...whirling dervish, and all. It was beautiful.

So, I today I am practicing the art of observation...and, also feeling very grateful for those who love and accept me just as I am...whirling dervish, and all...