Purpose, Finally!

One of the forum participants made a statement last night about how people communicate for a reason, that there is a reason why a person communicates something to another person. There is something that we want, or something that we need. And I awoke this morning with a clarity that runs much deeper than even this truth.

Every relationship is formed to serve a very specific purpose.

I have struggled for a while to define my purpose, but what I realize is that there is no single, central purpose to my life. My purpose is defined relationally, and specifically unique to each person, group, or community to which I belong. My purpose with each friend is different from my purpose as a sister, or my purpose as an employee, or my purpose with members of a group or organization to which I belong.

Every purpose defines the boundaries needed to carry out that purpose, informational boundaries, emotional information, physical boundaries, intimacy boundaries.

Like how I have many friends, but each friendship is uniquely defined around a specific purpose. That purpose may be mutually supportive processing, or sharing time together doing something we mutually enjoy, or talking about life philosophies for the mutual joy of philosophising. But each friendship has its own uinque purpose. It's the same with each and every relationship I have. . . .they are ALL created to serve a unique purpose.

And the unique purpose defines everything about that specific and unique relationship.

Businesses and corporations are formed and created based on a very clear purpose. It's called a mission statement. We generally don't formalize a mission statement with each relationship,but the relationship is still formed around its purpose. But I also think that much of the trouble that arises is because we haven't formalized the purpose of most of our relationships. . . .lol.

Wouldn't it be lovely if all relationships had their mission statements clearly defined?!

All relationshps have a "contract" of sorts that is either explicit (as is the case with business relationships) or implicit. The trouble with implicit relationship contracts that form the purpose of the relationship is that people end up participating in things they never agreed to! Or people change the purpose without even asking if you agree. Or people have a hidden agenda weaving its way around the purpose. . . .lol. It's all so clear!

I think a lot of people (not all, but a lot) are very uncomfortable with talking openly and directly about what they want or need from a relationship, which is probably why it happens so rarely on the surface, and mostly as this vague process that just seems to "happen" somehow....lol.

Or maybe this is something that other people naturally do already, and I've just now figured this out. But understanding what I want/need/expect from/of other people feels like I am understanding the nature of my relationships for the first time in my life. It helps to understand why I feel so uncomfortable and panicked when I am asked/forced against my will to have my purpose changed in relationship with someone (as is the case around certain trauma events).

So that's where I am today. . . .seeing and understanding for the first time how my life purpose is actually defined. And looking at the relationships that actually define my purpose by asking the simple and fundamental question of what purpose the relationship serves for me, and what is my purpose in the relationship itself. I really want to understand what I am needing/wanting/expecting of/from the people in my life, and also what I think is needed/wanted/expected of/from me. This last question will be what I think, but it's a starting point for me, for certain.

So this process of clarifying the purpose that defines me within significant relationships may take some time, but it will be well worth the effort, indeed!

The PTSD Tree

[This post is a repost from my "private" blog where I am documenting the "exposure therapy" process. . . .it emerged on the other side of writing a point list of trauma that I have experienced in my life. . . .trauma in the strictest sense, as an event that caused real or perceived threat to my life or being.]

If PTSD were a tree, this list would be the roots, the parts of the tree that grow in darkness, deep and underground. The trauma roots absorb the water and minerals from the earth, nutrients that form the physical strength and structuring of the tree, just as trees are supposed to do.

If PTSD were a tree, the symptoms would be the leaves that flitter in the wind, drawing the attention of the cruel and insensitive looky-loos passing by, leaves that convert sunlight into food that feeds the tree, just as trees are supposed to do.

The problem is that PTSD isn't the tree. The tree is me. I am the tree. These roots of trauma are MY roots. These leaves of symptoms are MY leaves. The PTSD is like an acrid poison that's been absorbed from the dark soil because the tree didn't know any better, and is now fed by a sun that doesn't even know that her radiant, beautiful energy has been used to kill the tree. . . slowly. . . .invisibly. Not because the tree wants to die, but because the roots of the tree and the leaves of the tree are only doing what a tree is supposed to do.

So the tree learns to despise and mistrust the harshly judgmental looky-loos, because they don't understand the tree. They don't understand why the tree looks the way she does. They don't understand why she behaves the way she does. And they don't even try to understand. So they rain on the tree with harsh judgment that seeps through the dark soil to mix and mingle with the acrid poison absorbed by the roots of trauma.

Over time, the tree begins to hate her roots and loathe her leaves. She tries to cut the roots out from beneath her, but they only grow back, deeper, stronger. And the leaves that she sloughs off, they grow back too, only they're bigger and stronger than the leaves she has tried to destroy. But she doesn't understand why, so she feels ugly and alone, wondering why God would create a tree with roots that absorb poison and leaves that convert radiant beauty into food that only feeds the dark poison's purpose. So she turns her face away from the sun, waiting for the death she hopes will release her quickly from this life of endless pain and suffering.

Then one day the tree happens upon other trees that look just like her. Trees that also have roots of trauma and leaves of symptoms that flutter in the wind. Trees that are misshapen, too, just like her. And not just a few trees, but an entire grove of trees, all with their faces turned toward the sun, dancing and singing stories of hope. The trees tell stories of how the roots and the leaves are what make the tree strong and vibrant and were never the problem in the first place (because the roots and leaves really were only doing what they are supposed to do), that the PTSD poison was the problem all along.

They also tell stories of how they're all learning from each other, learning how to absorb the nutrients they need from the dark soil, even from soil that is saturated with the PTSD poison, because they're learning how to transform the poison into less toxic poisons and develop immunity to the poisons they can't transform. And they tell stories of how they are now free to receive the radiant beauty from the sun without fear of feeding the PTSD poison that they may never be able to completely stop from being absorbed from the dark soil.

The hopeless, despondent tree is shocked and stunned by these stories that seem surreal and impossible. Yet she sees with her own eyes how beautiful these trees are while they're dancing in the sun and singing stories of hope. So she sits with the trees in the sun-filled grove, and she listens to the stories these trees have to share. And while she can't yet imagine that she, too, will one day be dancing in the sun and singing stories of hope and freedom to other hopeless, despondent trees yet to find their way to the grove, she slowly starts to feel the warmth of hope wrapping itself gently around her weary roots and leaves.

Two Worlds

This week has been a blur for me. It's hard to imagine that just a week ago, I was in such a different place. Making these connections has changed so much, and finding the PTSD Forum, well, there are no words for what this has done for me. But it's also making something else very clear for me.

There is great liberation in speaking my truth without having to even think twice about it. I can talk openly about PTSD with NO fear or shame. And I also don't have to worry about the other person getting uncomfortable, because everyone in the forum is dealing with PTSD. We're all in there because we're dealing with PTSD either directly or indirectly, so there's no skirting around it.

With PTSD, it is what it is.

But now what I'm finding is that when I switch back and forth between the PTSD Forum and Facebook, I am all too aware of how I am now living in two completely different worlds. One world accepts me absolutely unconditionally, and I can speak a dark truth without fear or offending or overwhelming anyone. And the other world is a world where I tuck myself down into a box of silence, fear, and shame of who I essentially have become, and I don't like it.

I don't want to live in two different worlds, but I don't know how to be who I am outside of the unconditional paradigm created by the PTSD forum world.

I have created a new blog. It's a blog of the journal that contains the Exposure Therapy process guided by the PTSD Forum. On the PTSD Forum they're called "trauma diaries," and they are openly posted. . . .the good, the bad, and (especially) the ugly! They're not intended to be "diaries" in the way that we normally think of diaries, but they are a diary of sorts. So I am posting my journey of this exposure therapy process in the forum, and secretly in my new blog. But I am feeling like there is a complete division between my two worlds that keeps me boxed up within myself in one of them.

For all of my life I have felt like I am less than everyone around me, because I have intuitively known that I wasn't "supposed" to share the stories of my life. But now that I have found a world where it's not only OK to share these stories, I am learning that the NOT sharing of the stories is, in part, what continues to fuel and feed the PTSD!

My silence is your comfort!

It's funny how I remember this phrase from a feminist artist's work, but I can't even remember her name. . . .oh, well. The point is that I remember it because it's absolutely relevant to my life! And I am having to look at my life and the real world I live in from a whole new perspective, and I am going to have to make some very hard decisions about the people who are within my world. Because I'm not willing to die a slow and painful death in order to modulate other people's emotional responses anymore.

I have honestly reached a place of critical mass with this issue, so either people are going to love and accept me as I am, or they can no longer be a part of my life.

Every day I interact with people (face to face and online) who share all about their life. . . their new jobs, the wonderful stories about their children, the new cars, or whatever their life is about, (and I love hearing these stories). But what's in my life every single day is a struggle for personal integrity and a fight for the will to survive. That's what's real for me. So the things that I find exciting are about whatever new I'm learning about PTSD. . . .what new therapies I'm trying. . . .what new books I've discovered. . . .what wonderful insights I've made. These are the facts about MY life that are relevant to me! But I don't feel like I can share these truths without causing other people discomfort (or worse!).

"Just because YOU don't understand PTSD, doesn't mean there's something wrong with me."

My new mantra. . . .and I mean it, because I'm going to die, literally, if I have to hold all of this crap inside. And now that I really understand what I'm dealing with, I'm just not willing to shield and protect the people around me. If my world is ever going to be secure and stable, it will only happen if I am secure and stable, not by trying to control my external world to indirectly create that security and stability for me.

Why could I not see this before?!

Filling in the Gaps

I think the Japanese have the right idea. When something gets broken, they don't throw it away. . . .they repair it. . . .and not only just repair it, but they fill in the gap with gold because they believe that the crack makes it more intesting.

It's not flawed, it becomes more valuable!

This isn't the way we Americans deal with broken things. . . .and it certainly isn't they way we conceptualize "broken" people, either. And I don't know how to describe what it feels like to have people fill in the gaps with misinformed judgment condescending ignorance about PTSD and all the ways that it can affect the life of a human being.

I am just begining to understand myself. My PTSD went undiagnosed for 27 years! So everything even I've been doing has been following the wrong trail of bread crumbs. But I have found a forum of people who are JUST LIKE ME, so I've been filling in the gaps with a completely different understanding of what's happening in a body and my mind that was created by God to do exactly what it's doing, so there is actually nothing "wrong" with me at all.

I'm done apologizing for the way God made me.

I have PTSD. That's not who I am, it's what makes me uniquely me. There is a difference. I'm not broken and damaged, either. My brain may have been scarred by past trauma, but it is healing itself exactly the way that God intended for the brain to heal itself. Yes, there are problems with the way that my brain is trying to heal itself, because that's what scar tissue can sometimes do. And I am doing absolutely everything I can to help my brain to release the trauma stuck points so that it can heal in more productive ways. . . .

. . . .BUT. . . .

I am NOT where I am because I don't know how to relax. . . or because I'm thinking negative thoughts. . . .or because I just don't want to move on. . . .or because I enjoy living a life filled with panic attacks, nightmares, and chronic insomnia. . . .No! And what I really want to say to people right now is, "Just because YOU don't understand PTSD doesn't mean that there's something wrong with ME!"

Wasted Time

An interesting day. . . .not feeling well, so I'm all huddled up at home. But I've also been feeling like my life could have turned out so very differently had I been diagnosed correctly back when the panic attacks first began. . . .which seems like past 27 years have been wasted years. . . .

They haven't been, of course. . . .because I needed to experience everything else, even if it was painful and difficult. I'm getting the information I need now, and the resources I need to do the kind of work I need to do, so that's all that really matters.

The PTSD forum that I found is so much more than just information and support. And the Trauma Diaries are not online journals, either. I'm not familiar with Exposure Therapy, but I am about to become well immersed in it. Right now it's all about me. . . .what I need . . . .what I want. . . .and what I'm willing to do to get there :)

So tonight I feel grateful and hopeful from a completely different place. . . .so we'll see what this new year brings!

Brainspotting

Over the summer, a friend of mine asked me why I was still having panic attacks after all of these (long) years. I reminded her of the trauma I experienced in basic training just before the panic attacks began. She said, "No, I understand that. . . . but why do you still keep having them?"

Why do I still keep having panic attacks?

It's such a brilliant question, but I didn't have an answer for her when she asked me, because I don't really know why I still keep having them. . . .or why I can't sleep. . . .or why I continue to have nightmares. . . and on goes the list of PTSD symptoms. But PTSD is a diagnostic label that provides a clinical description of symptoms. . . .it's not an explanation of why I still suffer with them.

PTSD does not explain why I still suffer with the panic attacks.

The most important turning point for me continues to be the biofeedback session earlier this year when I was sitting in front of this machine measuring physiological parameters with 97% coherence (near perfect degree of relaxation), yet I was experiencing a series of panic attacks during the biofeedback session. This scientific evidence that my panic attacks are NOT caused by me simply not knowing how to relax changed everything for me. . . .changed the way I contextualized the panic attacks. . . .changed the questions that I ask. . . .but, more importantly, it changed the way that I feel about myself for having the panic attacks in the first place.

The evidence changes everything.

And because I'm asking different questions now (no longer looking for ways to learn how to relax), I am finding different answers and pieces of information that shape very different perspectives. I have been extensively researching insights about the brain from neuroscience journals. Dr. Amen's work clearly shows brain scans of a person having a panic attack is identical to a person having a seizure. There is also very clear evidence that PTSD (especially when left untreated) can cause micro trauma to some brains with residual scarring that creates "hot spots" in the brain leading to varying degrees of psychogenic non-epileptic seizure activity (which also supports the scans obtained by Dr. Amen).

PTSD can create scarring in the brain and cause seizure activity.

This is finally the first explanation that makes sense based on what I have actually experienced over the course of the past 27 years, and I do believe that the PTSD has evolved into low level seizure activity. They're not epileptic seizures, but they are seizure activity. . . .electrochemical misfirings in the brain. I am also convinced that all "mental disorders" will one day reveal that it's ALL about what's happening in the brain. . . .but that is not my journey. . . .my journey is about understanding and learning how to live functionaly with a brain that makes my life extremely difficult, to say the least.

And today my journey was introduced to information about Brainspotting.

Brainspotting is an offshoot of EMDR, so it's still relating to eye position, but the underlying issue with this theory is that brainspots develop around trauma. . . .and then the brain will unconsciously respond to similar emotional experiences the same way as whatever survival mechanism was employed in response to the traumatic event. This is actually the way the brain processes every experience, whether positive or trauma based, we tend to respond in similar ways to similar events. . . .but some trauma events get "stuck" in this survival mechanism, creating maladaptive problems with apparently invisible causes. But once a brainspot is located and the "stuck" part is processed, the emotional trauma is released, and the brain in that area begins to function in a much more productive way.

The root of an emotional response, otherwised known as "core issues" is what creates the brainspots.

I recently came to understand that I do not process fear directly, but rather I experience a range of deflective responses that all fit  into a box called "Anger." I think this is a "brainspot" for me, the root of which creates a "brainspot" because any thing that emotionally feels like I am threatened elicits this same highly maladaptive response. . . .which now provides a tangible link between my body and mind.

So I am finally starting to find some peace with the panic attacks. . . .but there is much more work to be done. . . .much more work to be done, indeed. Finding someone who can do the MEG brain scans required to identify the micro scar tissue will not be easy (or inexpensive), but for now I will continue on with the interventions that help to release the trauma and heal the brain. But at least I finally have an answer (for myself) that makes sense about why I continue to have panic attacks. . . . even if it doesn't fix them or make them go away. . . . at least now I can understand why they don't easily go away. . . .

Ripples of Anger

I've been thinking a lot about the role that anger has been playing in my life. Several weeks ago I became aware that I was being sarcastic with a friend because I was angry...but the deeper (and much more important) awareness was that I was angry because I was actually scared.

I get angry when I'm scared.

I shared this awareness with a friend who commented back that she would rather feel angry than scared because anger motivates her to action, whereas she feels immobilized when she's afraid. I could see that growing up I didn't have the luxury of feeling afraid, so I learned very early in life to "step over" the fear and quickly move into the anger that empowered me to take care of situations, no matter how scary they might have actually been for me at the time.

But there is much more to this anger than meets the eye.

Looking back across my life I see my anger outbursts in a whole new light. I remember one particular art class, a drawing class when I was at UCR. We had a model who sat in the middle of the room, but I couldn't get past drawing what my left brain kept telling me the way that I "should" be drawing it, and I became so frustrated that I had to leave class because I had a small melt down in the hallway, a burst of anger that resulted in a torrent of tears, but when that passed, I was able to sit down and draw the still life perfectly. When the instructor looked at my amazing drawing and asked what happened, I told her that I got angry, and she said, "Well, that must be your process."

Who knew how deep that truth actually ran.

So I've been observing my anger these past few weeks, and I am greatly disturbed by what I see.  There are so many different ways that my anger manifests. And I'm not talking about being angry when there's something that "should" make me angry....I'm talking specifically about this protective layer of anger when I'm actually feeling scared or threatened in some way, because I don't just get angry when I'm scared, I also get very sarcastic...or arrogant....or avoidant....and all of this diversion only serves to keep whatever else I'm really feeling safely tucked away, down deep beneath the surface, ever and always outside of my awareness.

My panic attacks are like volcanoes violently erupting from the depths of all of the fear that lies buried far beneath the surface anger!

That's exactly what they are. And I find it very interesting this paradoxical dichotomy of my intrepid self and this person whose life is immobilized by the panic attacks. I think that's exactly what can happen when there is no direct voice for the fear. .  . .the fear will find a way out, even when the mind and mouth can not acknowledge that truth.

Fear will  find a way to speak its truth, even if it has to move mountains of denial.

I also find it interesting to think about the "volcano" genre of dreams that I've had off and on for many years. I used to think that the volcanic lava represented the repressed anger. . . . .lol. But now I understand that the volcano dreams are about all of the FEAR that doesn't ever get acknowledged or expressed, because it gets masked by the anger trying to empower the immobilized self that's really feeling scared and afraid. . . .and so it's forced to erupt in a flow of panic that doesn't just immobilize me, it pushes me to the brink of sanity and complete exhaustion.

I want to know what I'm feeling beneath my anger so that it doesn't have to erupt in an uncontrolled flow of panic.

This isn't going to be easy, because right now I only have the ripples of anger on the surface to serve as a guide to what is really going on. But I'm very glad that I am at least aware of this deflection process that takes place so invisibly, even it's taken nearly 50 years to see it for what it is.

Amazing.

So this isn't going to fix itself quickly or overnight, but I will continue to observe my anger and search for the deeper layers of what I am experiencing beneath the anger, which will at least open up space for me to be more authentic and honest about what's going on, rather than snipping and snapping sarcastically at the people I also care very much about :)

What If

There are many things that cause a person's life to change course and direction, and I don't mean the little twists and turns, I mean the events that cause a radical and life altering change. Today I had a conversation that causes me to think long and hard about how my life would be different, if I haven't had to deal with the dreaded panic attacks all of these long years.

What if I'd never had a panic attack? How would my life be different?

The funny thing about asking deep questions is that very often the answer is not at all what you think it's going to be when asked up at the surface. And when I doodled out a mini life inventory of each life altering point along my journey, the truth is that my life has been much more altered by the cancer, than ever by the panic attacks.

Then why am I so topsy-turveyed by the panic attacks?

Looking at this life map, it's shocking to see that three of the major life jolts in course and cause were motivated by the three different cause-and-effects of each round with cancer. But, once the path was diverged, then life mellows out. The difference with the panic attacks has been that no matter what I do, or where I live, the constant threat of a panic attack affects my quality of life in an every single day way that leaves me feeling jaded, bitter, and exhausted.

The unexpected truth is that it has been much easier to make peace with cancer than with these dreaded panic attacks.

Asking "What if?" can very often cause nothing but grief and heart ache, but there are those rare occasions when the act of asking the question opens up awareness into a whole new way of thinking. And this is one of those times, because there are some really wonderful insights that came from this dive down into my soul today. Like how I have not let the panic attacks stop me from ultimately doing what I want to do. They have clearly made my journey much more difficult and challenging, but I would pretty much have ended up in the same place. . . .doing the same thing. . . .and that (for me) is encouraging news!

I love when my assumptions about my self get turned upside down on their heads.

So I will continue on with this journey of making peace with the panic attacks. I may never love them, but I definitely want to have a different relationship to them. . . . .to coexist in peace with them. . . .even if I can't ever fix them or make them go away. . . . .one day at a time. . . .one day at a time.

Under God

I subbed for a Social Studies class today, and I came across a little blurb about Francis Bellamy, the person who wrote the original Pledge of Allegiance. I have been thinking a LOT about the Pledge of Allegience lately because there is so much controversy flying around Facebook about the two little words, "under God."

Who knew that there could be so much controversy found in just two little words.

When I got home tonight I searched the history of this powerful pledge, and wikipedia has some really great history on the evolution (oh, there's another powerful word) of the Pledge of Allegiance. I think most ironic is the fact that Francis Bellamy was a Christian Socialist. . . .which seems like an oxymoron based on today's standards. . . .but that is for another day's blog.

The two words in question were signed into law by President Eisenhower on Flag Day, June 14, 1954, something that most likely would not happen given the present administration, but that is also a conversation for another day's blog. For today's blog, what I am thinking about is how important it is that these two words never be removed from the Pledge of Allegiance because it is the clearest truth about the order of things. . . .the essential truth that we really should never forget.

One nation, under God. . . . .

I think for some people they interpret this to mean that God somehow blesses our nation, but that's not what it means to me. Our nation IS under God, because God is always above our nation (or any other, for that matter). I've seen other people phrase this as "God's in charge," and that's exactly what it means for our nation to be under God.

Jesus saw the truth of this long before our nation enacted these words into law when he told the people to "Give unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's, and to God what is God's." God does not create money, not then, and not now. God also does not create nations or global economies, as these are things of men, not of God. We "civilized" humans have created nations and the governments that run them, we have created money and the economies upon which they are dependent. But these are not the concerns of God. . . .these are the concerns of mankind, the creator of such trivial things.

What I see is the very dangerous trend  of looking to the President of this nation as a savior of sorts, looking to this one person (man or woman) to fix all of the problems that lay before us and also calm the worry and anxiety, instead of looking to God who is above the nation. So the reminder that our nation is under God helps me to keep things in perspective. . . .with this administration, or any other that might be in temporary charge and control, because God's power really is the only power that's ever in control of anything. . . .

One nation, under God. . . . .what a lovely reminder of what's really important :)

Chanty's Charm

Today was a lovely day. . . .off exploring some of the hiking trails right here around where I live. I brought Chanty with me. . . .my new best friend. . . .and as I was walking the trail, I was thinking about how we humans are very much like a chanter.

Every chanter, even though it is drilled the same way, still has its own unique sound, tone, and timber. . . .just like people.

I am learning how to play the chanter, and it's not easy. There are holes to navigate and air flow, but the part that was fascinating me today was how the chanter is just the structure. . . .and what makes the chanter play is ultimately the air that blows through. . . . .just like a human body is just the structure for the spirit that God blows through to make each of us come alive with our own music of the soul.

But what if my Chanty had a mind of her own?

If Chanty had a mind of her own, she would also have a will of her own. So, what if she wanted to play different notes than what I wanted to play? What if she played a long, slow, sad durge when I wanted to play a jig? And what if she refused to let the air flow through the holes out of spite? Or what if she believed that she was damaged and broken, unworthy of music to be played through her at all?

I think this is the dance we all dance with God. . . .that battle between who's in control, and whose will we follow. . . .and it makes me think of my life in completely different ways. So as silly as this sounds, I want Chanty to love what she sounds like, even if I make her squak and squeek. I also want her to love what she looks like, even when she gets dinged up from the accidental drops and falls that have already (unfortunately) happened, because she's perfect, just as she is. I can see that about her. . .but I also want her to see that in herself.

If I were a chanter, and God were the Piper, I also know that He would want me to love myself just as I am, too. . . .with all of the dings and dents that I've collected along my nearly fifty year long journey. . . .just like I want for Chanty. So I'm letting go of the need to change who I am so that I can live the life I want, simply by living the life I want. . . .even if nothing ever changes.

No one ever said that letting God be the Piper was going to be easy. . . .

And it's not always easy for me to love what I sound like, or love what I look like with all of the scars that pinch painfully from time to time, but if Chanty can do it, then so can I. . . . so, play on, little chanter girl. . . .play on :)

Too Much Information

I'm on information overload tonight. I've been unpacking some of the boxes of books, and I am overwhelmed by all of this information. But more than that, I am overwhelmed by the fact of how much I do not accept myself as I am, because the vast majority of these books are one form of self-help or personal growth book intended to change some part of me or my life.

Why can't I accept myself as I am?

The answer to this question floods my mind with endless self-hatred. I hate my life. I hate what the panic attacks have done to me and my life. I hate that I can't control them. And I feel stuck in a nightmare from which I can't force myself to wake.

Well...that may be true, but I am going to sort through these books, one by one until I have purged my library and my life of any program intended to change who I am. If I haven't fixed what's wrong by now, it's either not broken, or it's unrepairable. And I don't want to waste any more of my life trying to fix what other people have broken. . . .it's like the trees that have grown around something that was never intented to be a part of the tree, but is now embedded from years of growth around it. . . .and there's no real way to remove the object without killing the tree (or doing serious damage to it).

So acceptance is the answer. . . .even if it's acceptance of a crappy set of life circumstances.

Positive Mental Attitude

I am having a moment of clarity today, clarity that is already helping to bring about some peace and serenity to my life. And that clarity is simply the awareness that Positive Thoughts do not necessarily mean Happy Thoughts!

Positive thoughts are nothing more than thoughts that start with "I can" (rather than "I can't").

It's such a simple awareness, yet separating out the requisite need for a positive thought to be a happy thought frees up all kinds of possibility. Because it means that I may feel unbearably sad/anxious/panicked, but I can still maintain a positive mental attitude. If I find myself in the middle of a dark storm, saying the words I can endure this storm IS creating a positive mental attitude! I may not ever be able to stop or change the storm itself, but thinking I can thoughts is absolutely maintaining a positive mental attitude. . . .it's the I can't thoughts that create the negativity that undermines and sabotages.

Why have I allowed myself to be duped into believing that Positive = Happy?

Last week I had my initial session with a new/different trauma therapist, and we talked a lot about acceptance. It is absolutely unfathomable for me to "accept" the reality of the panic attacks, and this fact seems to be a stuck point. But we also talked about the possibility that the panic attacks (as unproductive as they may be) are nothing more than my brain's way of trying to heal itself. So we reframed the panic attacks as a "healing crisis" rather than a broken and dysfunctional brain, and she suggested that by accepting the panic as something that may never change, I can still change my relationship to it, change the way that I think about the panic attacks.

I can change the relationship I have with the panic attacks, even if I never accept the panic attacks themselves.

Another mantra I have integrated into my daily life is something from the Alanon literature (the "Just for Today..." pamphlet). So when I meld these two ideas, what I end up with is a whole list of positive thoughts that shape and form a positive mental attitude, thoughts that have absolutely NOTHING to do with happy thoughts, or even "feeling" happy at all!

Just for today, I CAN handle/endure the panic and anxiety, even if I can't stop or change it!

What I realize is that there are definitely imbalances and disturbances in the way that my physical world interacts with my mental/emotional world, but this chaotic interaction is not the end all and be all of the equation, because there is a third world that also collides with the other two. . . .the world of my spirit self. . . .and this is the deepest and most enduring truth of who I am.

My physical self is going to one day cease functioning and decay back into earth that has created and nourished my body for all of these long years. And while I may not know what will happen to my mental/emotional self once the physical self has died, I absolutely know that my spirit self will live on with God.

And I'm not saying that everything is fixed by this awareness, but at least I feel that I really can do this. . . .I can get through this day, even in the presence of anxiety and panic. . . .because the panic is all about a positive and life affirming healing crisis in my physical self. And I can choose the thoughts and beliefs that create a positive mental attitude, even if the thoughts themselves are not "happy" thoughts. . . .which then frees up my spirit to find and appreciate the beauty of God that surrounds and embraces me. . . .which is what the purpose of life is all about anyway. . . .

Two Worlds

There are many reasons why people remain silent about the truth of what's real in their lives, but tonight I am grateful for those rare and courageous souls who are brave enough to share their personal truth, in whatever form that may be.

We never know who needs to hear exactly what we need to say. . . .

One of my friends shared a blog of another person, actually, a man who is learning how to deal with a person with Alzheimer's disease. He has come to understand that the person lives in what he calls "Alzheimer's world," while he lives in a world with a completely different reality. He actually takes a step to the left before he responds to the skewed reality so as to remind and reinforce within himself that he is stepping into a different world with a completely different reality than his own.

This is exactly how I feel about the way the PTSD world collides with my own world, a collision that skews and screws with my reality. Only these two worlds exist within myself. . . .so how do I step to the left within my own mind?

I am still trying to integrate how as I sat connected with the biofeedback machine, my physiological parameters were reading "relaxed," all the while I was having a panic attack. And if I hadn't been sitting in front of that machine watching the data myself, I might not even believe it, but it was what it was. My body was having one experience of reality while my mind was experiencing another.

And it's hard enough to try to explain what happens within my own experience, let alone to someone who is outside of the experience completely. The doctors tell me I just need to learn how to relax, but the biofeedback machine actually tells me very clearly that I DO know how to relax, so it's so not a relaxation problem. And a well intentioned friend recently suggested that I focus on positive images when I meditate, as if that were something that I have never done or even thought of doing before.

PTSD is just sooo not about learning how to relax. . . .and it's certainly not about focusing on happy thoughts.

I have seen images of PET scans and SPECT scans from a person having a seizure, a person having a panic attack, and a person having an orgasm. And when these images are laid out side by side, it is virtually impossible to distinguish one from the other (which is just incredibly amazing. . . .and terrifying for me, personally, because I may not have Alzheimer's, but I absolutely feel the frustration of the people around me who don't understand anything about my incredibly high maintenance process as I try to create a functional life with these two different worlds colliding inside of my mind).

I think at this point it's just so much easier to isolate myself off from the rest of the world.

I have actually started to feel like death is no longer the worst thing that could happen to me. . . .and I don't mean that in a suicidal kind of way. . . .just the dark truth spoken out of hopelessness that there will never be life beyond the panic and chronic sleep disturbance that leaves me so completely exhausted and exasperated.

Oh, how I really do wish that I could just step to the left within myself. . . .when the PTSD world collides with my own. . . .

Routine

One of my favorite films is Groundhog Day with Bill Murray and Andy McDowell. I love how he keeps repeating the same events of the day until he finally gets it right. . . .which is such a great metaphor for the lessons we need to learn in life. But something has been bothering me for a few days. . . .and that's because my life has started to feel like it's turning into Groundhog Day for real. . . .and I'm not quite sure what to do with that.

The problem is routine.

It's been almost a month since I quit my job and moved down here to Prescott Valley, so I have a lot of "extra" time on my hands, and I've been working hard to create a daily living routine that I can live with, one that's going to best support my health. But I have quickly moved beyond the excitement of this new life, and have started to feel the rattlings of boredom. But it's not really that I am bored with my life, but I'm definitely getting bored with the daily routine of my life.

The problem's not the routine. . . .the problem is that you are bored with the routine.

Changing my life from the ground up means that I am shaping the life I want starting from when I wake up. So that means that when my alarm goes off at 5, I should be out and running by 5:30, and then the rest of the day follows from there. But I am already dreading going to sleep because I know that I will have to wake up and go running! And it's not so much about not wanting to go run, because I do. . . .it's a deeper and more sinister feeling at work.

The problem is that you are dreading the fact that when you wake up you will have to run.

All I've done is add the running to my day, but already I am feeling like my life is no longer my own. . . .because there is this expectation that a certain amount of my day is dedicated to running, and the part of me that wants to be free to do whatever she wants is scruffing and protesting this new change! I am still free to do whatever I want for the rest of my day, but this roughly 30 minutes of time dedicated to the running is really upsetting the way my life has been balanced, and I am absolutely fascinated by that fact.

The problem is that your daily routine is out of balance.

I don't scruff if I have to go to work for 8 hours. . . .because that expectation she has already accepted and integrated, but I am honestly feeling resentful of the fact that tomorrow morning I have to take 30 minutes of my time to go run. . . .lol. And what would I be doing if I weren't running? Probably sleeping in or just laying there thinking (which is a total love fest for me). . . .but I am resentful right now that when I wake up I have to go run!

Ahhh. . . . the problem is that you are resentful of the new routine and resentful that you have to give up something that you also want to do.

I think this is what makes changing a life routine so difficult, because what I'm feeling is perfectly normal and natural when we try to change something in our life, because even if the daily routine is bad for us, it's still what we have accepted as our routine, so there is going to be a part of us that has to give up something.

The problem is that there's only 24 hours in a day.

There is no "adding" something to a daily routine . .there is only ever an exchange that must take place if the routine is going to be changed. I can't add 30 minutes of running to my day, because I only have 24 hours to work with. . . .so if I am going to run for 30 minutes, then I have to give up something else that I would normally do for those 30 minutes, and that's what I'm dealing with. . . .the feelings that I have about giving up something that I enjoy, even if the running is good for me.

The problem is that you don't enjoy the running part yet.

And that is a big part of these feelings, because I enjoy sleeping in. . . .and I enjoy laying there in the morning just thinking about things. . . .but I do not (yet) enjoy the running part, so there's not a lot of motivation to give up something I directly enjoy in exchange for something that delivers no direct joy, only indirect (and greatly delayed) health benefits.

So, the problem is routine. . . .and the fact that you're trying to change it :)

But no worries. . . .I'm not ready to give up on the new running program, as there are many wonderful benefits for me that are well worth the exhange in time units. And I'll deal with all of the problems this change in my daily routine has dropped into my life, but it would be nice if the endorphin part would start to kick in. . . .lol. . . .because it might make the resentment part  lessen. . . .lol.

Of Weeds and Wilderness

Living in a national park for three years has changed the way that I think about a lot of things, but this morning as I was pulling weeds, I realized that even my concept of "weed" has been changed.

In a national park, there are no "weeds," only wilderness land populated by "native" and "non-native" species of plants. And there are very particular ways that non-native plants are dealt with, as the using of pesticides is only used as an intervention of absolute last resort, and only after all pros and cons are assessed by the National Park Service--not an easy decision to be made, one way or the other.

So this morning as I was pulling weedlings up and out of the ground, I was all too keenly aware of what a powerful act that was. Before living at the Grand Canyon I never thought twice about yanking out those pesky weeds that infiltrated my sacred garden. But this morning I knew that each plant yanked out was an unnatural act. . . .an act of violence against nature, as each and every plant that I pulled this morning had a right to life in its natural habitat. . . .its home. . .and I yanked that life right out of the ground because it was labeled and identified as an "invasive" plant species.

But that's the human way. . . .or at least the "civilized" human way. We "tame" and "control" the natural world as we carve away landscapes and reshape them to fit our personal whims and desires. We live so far out of balance with the natural world that it's amazing how anything survives at all. And the creation of national parks is a wonderful thing, but it's not enough to protect the natural world. . . .it's just not enough.

Yet even so, even with the changed awareness, I still pulled those weeds this morning. . . .those native plants that were invading the space I want to create. . . .but the guilt lingers on. . . .yes. the guilt most definitely lingers on. . . .

[Photo credit: My friend Jennifer Tenney's personal garden]

The In-Between

I think I was a truck driver in a previous life. . . .lol. . . . .because I love the way my mind processes when I drive. . . .it's a relaxed state of mind that I don't experience in any other way. . . .not sure why. . . .but I had a lovely drive to Prescott this morning in the wee hours of the day.

I was thinking about how peaceful this move has been, and wondering what made the difference. One of the biggest differences was the built-in "in-between" spaces. . . .that time that was scheduled in-between the long list of things to do. . . .that time where nothing else was scheduled. . . . that time where I was able to sit down, catch my breath, refocus, and then move on the next major event.

My last day of work was Wednesday, and instead of running to Prescott to pick up the trailer to get the move done on Thursday afternnon, I scheduled the pick up day for Saturday. For a person whose list of strengths does not readily include patience, this was a new way for me. So I rested, as much as possible, from Thursday through Saturday. . . .and felt both rejeuvenated and refreshed by the time Saturday afternoon rolled around.

I also deferred the cleaning of the apartment until after my job interview on Monday. I could have scrubbed and rubbed from Thursday through Saturday, but that was my "in-between" rest time, so the apartment cleaning was going to just have to wait one more day.

I think there is an important lesson that I've somehow learned, about the importance of sitting on the edge of whatever I am moving on from before I leap on to the next ledge of opportunity. Maybe it's another lesson that the canyon has invisibly taught my spirit, because there is no quick leaping from edge to edge here at the canyon. . . .you sort of have to stop and regroup before you move on to where ever you're going. . . . .it's just what you do.

But there is such a wonderful gift that's overlooked and missed by just leaping from one thing to another. . . .the gift of reflecting on the blessings. . . .the gift of expressing the appreciation and gratitude. . . .and the gift of feeling fully the truth of what it means to be sitting on the edge of what was in anticipation of the inevitable leap to what will be . . .a leap that will change a person's life forever.

I'm going to miss the canyon so very much, but I need to remember that my relocation to Prescott is far from good-bye, because my spirit is bonded to that place in a way that I could never move on from anyway.

And so it is. . . .in the writing of this blog. . . . as I sip my ice cold tea. . . .I am once again embracing this in-between moment and allowing it to help me to catch my breath and refocus before I start unpacking the seemingle endless pile of boxes into this new life upon which I have taken this amazing leap of faith. . . .

. . . .oh, waitress. . . .another glass of tea, please.

Knock, Knock

I found this image of Matisse's painting Open Window today. . . .I just love the way the artist sees the world. And I've been thinking a lot about the windows that have started to open up my world, after nearly two years of nothing but closed doors.

I had a conversation with a friend last week, and part of what we talked about was the tenacious way that I fight for what I want. I may move on quickly (once that choice is finally made), but I don't make that choice easily. . . .because I keep trying to figure out how to make something work. . . .when it's something that I really want to work. . . .and so I stay when I should leave. . . . and I fight when I should yield. . . . and I continue to knock when I should simply walk away. . . .

I don't look for open windows. . . .I keep knocking on doors that keep closing on my face. . . .

It's a funny thing. . . .the way we knock on closed doors. It's the way the world works, actually. We want something on the other side of a closed door, and so we knock. . . .nicely, at first. . . .knock on the closed door hoping that we will be let in on the other side. Some times we are, and that can be a lovely thing. But there are always conditions asked of the door to let us in, of course. . . .always conditions that require pieces of who we are to be tucked away. . . .or worse, surrendered completely before entry is granted.

Why do I keep knocking on the doors that keep closing on me?

Some doors should never be knocked upon. . . . and, yet I knock, over and over I knock upon the doors that serve no earthly good for the betterment of my spirit. I am the worst offender of this, because I don't give up. . . I keep on fighting for what I want. . . .even with open windows blowing clean fresh air all around me, I will stand at that door and knock until my spirit is bloody and raw if there is any hope at all that I might get what I want on the other side of that door.

Tenacity is a good thing. . . .but there is a thin line between tenacity and insanity. . . doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results?

These past few weeks have been about the windows of opportunity that have opened up for me. . . . .and my willingness to find out what's on the other side of the open windows, rather than continuing to knock on the doors that keep closing on me. They're not arbitrary windows, of course. . . .they are windows that offer what I need on the other side of a leap of faith that appears to be landing me softly and quickly, and for that I am most grateful.

And so it begins. . . .a new round of knocking on doors that offer something that I want on the other side. . . .with a new opportunity to see what I have learned about walking away from the doors that remain closed.

Life on My Terms

Maybe it's because of how I grew up. . . .maybe it's because of the way other people's stories have been imposed upon my own. . . .or maybe it's just the way God made me. . . .I may never know. But what I do know is that from this point forward, I am only capable of living life on my terms.

I don't want to work for someone else. . . . .I don't want to spend my life energy supporting a persoal agenda that I can never get on board with. . . . .and I don't want to tuck my values underneath my trench coat just to fit in to whatever corporate micro-climate happens to be funding my pay check.

I want to live my life on my terms, and my terms only.

This means that I may be unemployed for a while, and that's going to have to be ok. It also means that some people may not ever like me, and that's ok, too. It may also mean that friends or family members who think I live my life irresponsibily may no longer make time for me or the relationship we once shared, and that, too, is just going to have to be ok, because I am going to create the life that's meaningful for me and live my life on my terms. . . .no matter what I may have to give up along the way.

The funny thing is that what I want hasn't changed. . . .I've always been clear on what I want and how I want to create my life. . . .I've just had some trouble translating that vision into my daily life. So I'm about to find out how much I have learned about myself and what I need to create the life of my dreams, and this is an exciting adventure I am about to dive myself into, because even with the paralegal piece added to the mix, I still envision life as an independent contractor, rather than working in a hard-core fast-pace corporate environment. . . .I want to work for myself. . . .I want to structure my time in a way that best suits my biorhythms. . . .and I want to take time off for travel on my schedule, rather than what is demanded by case load or seasonal needs.

I am less than an hour away from working my last shift here at the canyon, so on this particular day I all too well understand that there are trade-offs for this kind of flexibility and freedom. But it's absolutely what I want. . . .because if I want purple flowers, I can't use brown paint. . . .and the only way I will ever create it is if every single decision that I make aligns with and supports the way of life I want to create. . . .so that's exactly what I'm going to do. . . .even if it kills me. . . .lol

IFR

I have continued to process this world-view changing information revealed at the biofeedback session earlier this week. . . .still trying to wrap my mind around the scientific fact that my body was in a state of physiological relaxation as I sat there feeling like I couldn't catch my breath. . . .feeling like I was choking. . . .feeling like I couldn't swallow. . . .feeling like I was on the verge of a full-on panic attack.

How do I trust what I'm feeling when it's been irrefutably proven to be wrong?

Back when I was in junior high I helped my step-dad prepare for his IFR license. Pilots first learn to fly using VFR (visual flight rule), which licenses a pilot to fly only in conditions where an ongoing visual is maintained with the terrain so that the pilot can see where he/she is flying. But the IFR (instrument flight rule) certification allows a pilot to fly during conditions that prohibit access to visual information about the environment (such as fog or storm clouds).

Denny told me that the most difficult part of the training is learning to trust the instruments, rather than what the body is feeling. The body is constantly trying to orient itself in three-dimensional space, but when the visual field is eliminated, the body doesn't always orient itself appropriately. So the body feels like the plane is flying level, but in reality the plane could actually be in a spiral nose dive. So the pilot has to disengage from every single feeling he or she has about what feels level. . . .and place that trust in the instruments. He said it's very funny to fly with a pilot who is training in a hood, because the pilot's anxiously telling the unhooded pilot, "There's no way that I'm flying level!" Yet when he's instructed to remove the hood, the plane is very clearly flying as it should, even though every internal sense or perception tells the brain something else.

That's what this feels like right now. . . so I don't know what to trust because my body is clearly relaxed, but my mind is telling me that I am anything but relaxed. . . .

So I'm still in progress with this, researching relaxation and what it means to be relaxed. I'm also very clear that this move to Prescott is exactly what I need right now, because all of the pieces of my next moves are going to be found down in Prescott (or nearby lying healing-centered communities). I may not know what to trust about the relaxation stuff (just yet). . . .but I absolutely trust my instincts that are motivating this move.

Relaxation Response

I am now obsessed with understanding the relaxation response, because I don't understand how my body can achieve a physiological state that correlates with relaxation at the same time that my mind is panicking out of control. It's as if I have a nuclear reactor sitting in the middle of a landscape of serenity. . . .but how can they coexist?

And all I can say right now, is what the hell is wrong with this picture?!!

What I am learning is that somatic measures of "relaxation" include things like pulse, blood pressure, heart rate, and slow rhythmic breathing associated with meditation and deep breathing exercises. All of these pieces of data can be measured by a machine (like the biofeedback program I experienced this morning), but the conclusion drawn by the machine that I have achieved a desired state of relaxation could not be further from the truth!

So I found another definition of relaxation on Wikipedia. . . .only this one is defined through the lens of psychology, which defines relaxation as "The emotional state of low tension, in which there is an absence of arousal that could come from sources such as anger, anxiety, or fear." So what's happening is that my body is able to achieve a state of physiological relaxation (as measured by the parameters of somatic vitals), but my mind is not experiencing a state of emotional relaxation, because I am constantly aroused by varying degrees of anger, anxiety, and fear (panic)!

It seems impossible to me that my body can be relaxed, yet my mind is in a state of emotional chaos at the same time, but that is precisely what that biofeedback session proved to be true this morning. Now I just need to figure out what to do with these bizarre facts.

Another piece of the Wiki definition further states that "[r]elaxation is a form of mild ecstasy coming from the frontal lobe of the brain in which the backward cortex sends signals to the frontal cortex via a mild sedative." So it seems absolutely clear that the key to total relaxation for ME is grounded in my neurochemistry. That doesn't mean that I am ready to jump onto the medication bandwagon, but it's absolutely clear evidence of where the problem lies, so at least now I know where to begin looking for solutions!

A Brave New World

This is why I'm a scientist. I was proven wrong today. . . .proven wrong with irrefutable, undeniable, scientific proof that what I believe to be true and real is, in fact, not true or real at all.

I love when my whole world gets turned upside down.

I had my first biofeedback session this morning. He hooked me up to the Heart Math program (gotta love that name :) and I watched it measure my pulse and heart rate as I sat in the chair doing nothing more than the rhythmic breathing I was instructed to do. And I watched as the coherence value slowly increased up to 97% which kept the squiggly blue line steadily increasing just below the max line in "the zone" (the target area where the coherence value was supposed to be).

The problem (for me) was that during the session, I kept feeling like I couldn't breathe, feeling like I was choking and having a difficult time swallowing. I would rub my throat and rub my sternum the way I always do to help myself feel like I can breathe better. I felt lightheaded and on the verge of panic the whole time I sat there breathing rhythmically watching the coherence value plateau out at 97%.

After twenty minutes of this biofeedback exercise, I learned that most people on their first try are barely able to get their squiggly blue line anywhere near "the zone," let alone have it ride along the maximum zone. I also learned that this man (who uses the program every day) doesn't even maintain a 97% coherence rate, so he was beyond amazed by how steady I was able to maintain my breathing and heart rate, especially given that it was my first time out. Yes, I am an over achiever. . . .but these aren't the pieces that turn my world upside down.

According to that machine, not only was I relaxed, but I was able to maintain a physiological state of relaxation that most people are unable to achieve. . . .ever! Yet I sat there feeling like I couldn't breathe and was going to choke! And when I made a statement about how my body doesn't relax when I do meditation and breathing exercises, he very clearly pointed out that the data from the biofeedback proves otherwise!

My body was relaxed, but that is not what I was experiencing!

So either the machine is incorrect, or my brain is somehow misinterpretting information about what's happening in my body, and I have absolutely no doubt that the machine was perfectly correct in what it was measuring! What a break through! My physiological reality is not congruent with the perception of reality in my brain! I don't really know what this all means just yet, but it changes everything about how I think about my body and relaxation. . . .

So I'm not even sure what my next step is going to be, but let the research begin!

Modular Life

I feel like I can't breathe. . . .I'm breaking down the life I've worked so hard to create here at the canyon. . . .packing up the pieces into arbitrary boxes. . . .and I feel like I can't breathe. I know I can't stay here, and I am moving into a new and possibility-filled chapter of my own choosing, but I still feel like I can't breathe.

I'm sad and grieving. . . .I want my forever home, but I haven't found it yet. And this new home is a nice home, but it's not even really my home. . . .it's just a room within the home of someone else. . . .even if she's not living there right now. . . .and I'm just so aware of how all of this packing up of my modular life exhausts me. . . .even when it is a move of my own choosing. . . .

. . . .so I feel like I can't breathe. . . .and I'm waiting for the grief to pass. . . .

My Forever Home

My friend Melinda is a wonderful advocate for animals, and she recently became a foster home for strays in waiting for adoption into their "forever home." I just love that idea. . . .the idea of having a forever home. . . . and I can't help but wonder if I will ever find mine.

I found this castle loft one night at work. THIS would have been the kind of bed I wished for when I was a little girl. Although we moved around so much, even if I had been fortunate enough to have a home where a bed like this was possible, it would have been short lived. My mom did the best she could, but stability was never her strong point. . . .but I sure fell in love with this princess loft :)

I've had a few forever homes in my life time. My first forever home died with my mom, because "going home" (for me) always meant going to wherever my mom was. I thought the life I created with my husband was going to be a forever home, but it turned out to be something far less than what was offered by the fairy tale gone awry. And my boat was supposed to be the forever home I created for myself, but that home has been long sunk by circumstances past.

So I'm not sure if a forever home is destined for my future. For the past three years I've been living in a national park, a place whose rules by their very nature would never even allow me to have a forever home. And I find myself once again packing and moving for yet another long-term temporary move while I complete this program down in Prescott, but I don't really know where I will end up once that journey has completed itself, so this move feels anything but moving into my forever home.

My friend once dated a man who had no home at all. He was a photographer who traveled the world, staying with friends and family wherever he journeyed, but he didn't maintain any type of "base camp" to call home. I don't think I could live quite that footloose and forever home free. I think the ideal life for me would be to have the freedom to travel around, but also to have a home base to return to, although a storage unit could create that, so who knows. . . .lol. And I have been fantasizing about buying a little place in Williams, but that's just a pipe dream (right now), because actually buying something entails either being indepedently wealthy or having a job that supports the process. . . .and right now, I have neither.

But I think that's what this next stage of my journey is about, because my master's degree is so desperately limiting with employment options, and the options it does present I no longer want. So I am opening doors of new possibilities. . . .new possibilities for a more marketable education. . . new possibilities for friends to share and enjoy the journey with. . . . new possibilities for finding or creating the forever home of my dreams, and that is an encouraging thought.

So, I'm not sure how I feel about resonating so deeply with abandoned stray animals who are waiting for their forever homes to adopt them, but I do. And in the meantime, I will enjoy this home and its surrounding beauty for however long I am blessed by its offer of sanctuary. . . .while I continue on in search of my own forever home. . . . .

The Illusion of Time

I've been thinking a lot about time. . . .mostly because I've been creating artificial boundaries of time for that psychological reassurance that I still have time left. . . .because the idea of just living with the ever present unknown feels like too much anxiety to bear. . . .when the threat of the next round with cancer lurks ever present and just around the bend.

The funny thing is that when we ask the question, What time is it? we are really referencing something either in the past or something in the future. Because when we ask about the time, we are really trying to find out how long we have been doing something, how much time we have left doing what we're doing, or how much time we have before we need to be doing something else.

Questions about time are about something in the past or in the future. . . .but never about what actually is.

Time (of course) does not really exist, because "time" is nothing more than a reference point in the now. . . and when we ask the question What time is it? we are really asking the question What time is it now?. . . .so time becomes nothing more than a reference point of where the now fits in to the totality of moments making up both future nows and past nows. But to ask the question What time is it now? without having some question of reference to a past or future event becomes an exercise in random pieces of irrelevant information. . . . .a meaningless factoid. . . a question whose answer becomes, "Who cares?" or "What's the point?"

I want the answer to this question to be more than just an exercise in philosophical existentialism.

Cancer has shaped the way my mind focuses on the illusion of time, which has resulted in me living within micro modules of arbitrarily assigned time. But I have also been able to retrain my mind by asking one simple question: What time is it right now? And once I ask this simple question, only then am I able to let go of my fear about an uncontrollable future and refocus my thoughts on what's happening in the "right now" moment of time where I am alive and well, breathing in and out, with no impending gloom and doom about to pull my life out from underneath me.

So, yeah. . . .I'm living my life in a right now plan.

Grey's Anatomy is such a great source of life truth, and I'm thinking right now about Mark Sloan's "evil" approach to his run for chief of surgery when he stole Mirana Bailey's concept of a "right now" plan (rather than getting caught up in the ten year plan triggered off by the invading cardio god). It's not easy to have a right now plan, but right now it's the only plan that's worthy of my energy and focus, because any other life plan is wrought with too many unknowns and uncontrollable pieces.

And the living of my life with this right now plan is transforming my inner clock into an hourglass. . . .a reality I can live within where that moment that we call "time" becomes nothing more than a stricture point between the unchangeable past and the uncontrollable future. . . .that "right now" moment where past and future has no meaning. . . .no power. . . .that point of time where the right now moment just is what it is. . . .and that is enough. . .

Balance

Living in Balance is the key to life, right? At least, that's what we're led to believe, especially when we're told by all of the "experts" that if we want to live a "healthy" and "normal" life we're supposed to have balance between all of the important parts of our lives. . . . or eat a balanced variety of foods. . . . or whatever the mainstream ideal du jour might be about balancing out the pieces of our life.

I, for one, do not believe in the concept of balance.

I'm not a person who lives my life in balance. I'm an artist (from my spirit up), and so I immerse myself in whatever project (or personal passion) I am in love with at the time. I become obsessed.. . . .like the artist who can't put down the paint brush. . . .or the writer who writes through all hours of the night because there is something that needs to be said and there is no sleep to be found until its peace has been spoken.

Passion throws the whole idea of balace right out the window.

It's the things that we feel passionate about that force us to choose something (or someone) when all sense of logic and reason says to slow down. . . . or plan things out better. . . .or do it in a safer more financially secure way. It's also the things that we feel passionate about that bring the greatest joy (and pain, unfortunately).

But there is absolutely nothing balanced about living a life based on passion. . . .and falling in love is absolutely the key to passion.

I am not good with long-term plans. I have no patience for long term plans, because I immerse myself from head to toe in what I fall in love with. . . .and there is no patience to be found when the need to be immerse can not be silenced. And so I reorder my whole life around what I have fallen in love with. Like I did when I went into the Army. Or when I got married. Or when I bought my boat. Or when I fell in love with the idea of living in Nova Scotia. Or when I fell in love with the Grand Canyon. What I fall in love with, I become obsessed with, and reorder my whole life around in order to dance completely with it. And when I can't dance completely with it, I fight against whatever keeps me at a distance. . . .until I drop with exhaustion. . . .or until I fall in love with something else that infuses me again with the passion and purpose I have lost.

My way of living is not for everyone. . . .but other people's way of life is also not for me.

The wonderful part of flying solo is that I can live my passion without having to coordinate that dance with another person. . . .and so I am free to reorder my whole life again to pursue this next passion that I am about to immerse myself into and become obsessed with. I don't know why I am the way that I am. . . .I only know that I am. . . and that falling in love with a whole new possibility and potential for my life is absolutely enough for me.

Follow your bliss.

I remember one of my professors from when I was in grad school who tried to show me the error of my ways by relating my life to an onion. The way that he perceived the way I live my life was to live only in the outer layers, because to him I wasn't committing to anything long enough to understand its depth, or deeper layers. But what he didn't understand is that I am committed. . . .I'm just committed to the internal passions of my soul, rather than to the purpose assigned to more external worldly pursuits. So when I fall in love with something (and allow myself to follow my passion), I am absolutely making a commitment to the depth of my spirit. . . .and making a commitment to the purpose infused within the gift of God that creates me.

And what I find most incredibly curious about the world at large that surrounds me, is that the people who are inspired when they are reminded of the words carpe diem, are very often the exact same people who become harshly judgmental and obtrusive with their dream squashing negativity when they actually see someone seizing their own day. So the way I live my life may seem curious and strange to others who look upon my choices. . . .and I may actually be making the worst mistake of my life by quitting this minimum wage job without having another job already lined up. . . .but if I can live with these choices that I make, then that is enough for me. . .

Down Payment

Having the awareness of wanting to "own" my life (rather than live from "lease to lease") isn't an easy truth to live with. And this past week has been no easy walk through the national park either, because wanting to look beyond these artificial boundaries of time created by my check-ups is just so much easier than actually doing so. But I made a down payment on my life today. . . .which means that I am about to take a huge leap of faith. . . .

I am about to place my faith on the side of time.

Living with cancer challenges the notion of time. . . . .challenges the great lie of youth that we are invincible and live forever. . . .challenges the statistics of actuarial charts that outline life expectancies and potentialities for the "average" population. But there is nothing "average" about living with cancer, so it's been a long time since I put my faith in time, which is why I've been living from lease to lease, placing my faith into tiny pockets of "controllable" time, rather than the unbounded and out of control part of time that ultimately belongs to God alone.

So, perhaps I am placing my faith on the side of God's time, rather than needing to psychologically control time. . . .either way, my life is about to change.

I have been applying for jobs down in Prescott for nearly a year, with not even a single call for an interview. I have a place to live for next to nothing. The VA is right down the street from where I would be living. The community college where they have the paralegal studies program I want is also just around the corner. And there is a wonderfully rich support community that I began to create when I was on my leave of absence just waiting for me to make the move. . . .but I hesitate. . . .in limbo. . . .until I have the job piece in place before I make the choice to move.

And then there's the secret fear that I might only have a short time left on this earth, so why would I waste that gift on going back to school?

But the truth is that no one knows how much time we have left on earth. So August 15th is my last day of work. . . .and I'm moving down to Prescott into this wonderful gift of a living situation that has been offered to me. . . .and I'm diving head first and full-time into this Paralegal Studies program that is going to be such an amazing fit with who I really am. . . .and I'm going to live my life as if I am invincible and will live forever. . . .or at least to where I am statistically averaged and expected to live. . . .lol.

I'm going to go about the joy of living my life with cancer. . . . .even if it kills me :)

It's so funny. . . .the things we say without really thinking about the ramifications of what it means. How many times have we said that. . . I'm going to do this or that, even if it kills me. Well, sometimes it does, but that reality generally doesn't stop us from doing it. . . because we secretly believe that we really are invincible. . . . and because it's something that we really want to do. . . .something that will bring us great joy and excitement. . . . or something that would make a profoundly negative difference in who we are as human beings if we didn't do it.

Invincibility is the key to making choices that scare the crap out of us.

So I made a down payment on my life today. . . . I took a huge leap of faith and quit my job and made the decision to move to Prescott so that I can dive head first into this paralegal studies program. . . . even without having the job all lined up first. . . . even without "knowing" for certain that I will have all of the time I need to see this thing through to the end. . . .and yes, most importantly. . . .even if it kills me :)