Month: April 2017

The sound of my cell phone chimes at 5:45 Monday through Friday. During the summer months it goes off at 5. Today, as the object of my morning reckoning goes off it still looks dark outside. I shuffle a bit in my king size bed and turn off the alarm while taking in 3 deep breathes to engage my mind and body. My body is resistant; yet, my mind wins the fight against  those  aging, sagging anatomical parts which make up my body. Will today be an indoor workout or outside. Ah, let’s live life wild and make it an outside exercise day,  I think. I begin to be hopeful that I will be able to watch the sunrise.

I take the steps downward  to the entry level of my building and exit  out of the  right hand side. And off I go,  “running.”  I run past the homes with TV’s on and catch glimpses of shadows in the house.  My first mile is the most difficult, however, once I find a rhythm, running doesn’t seem so laborious. I reach the boathouse on the waterfront and decide to go left toward the pier. As I run past the water I notice the  glistening river and hear the melody of the birds. The wind blows gently. I seem to be running faster.  I am quickly approaching my happy place. The place , the sounds, the smells I have embedded in my mind so that at  any time I can return to this state and picture these scenes through my mind’s eye. Later in the day, I can look back on this state of bliss and the calming memory helps me to regulate my emotions if they begin to become unstable at any time.  Shortly, I arrive to my destination on my morning jaunt.  I stop to overlook the Potomac River toward the National Harbor. The lights of the Ferris wheel are on along with the lights of the MGM hotel and casino. Cars are traveling across the Wilson bridge; their sounds can be heard faintly in the distance. Mindfully, I accept and sweep out all of my lingering thoughts, closing my eyes to focus only on my breath using my diaphragm to inhale and exhale slowly, steadily. I slowly become aware of the interactions taking place in my body. I practice a few mudras, hand positions that help tune one to his or her inner strengths,  starting with  “gian mudra” which is said to generate knowledge, wisdom, receptivity, and calmness.  Next, I practice the prayer mudra in order to center and balance my body’s energies.  I place my palms in front of my chest, bend my fingers slightly to allow air to flow through my fingers and hands. I feel a sense of tranquility. My desire is to linger; however, I have to force myself to push on and finish my run.  I give into the rational side of my brain and mindfully capture the moment before beginning my return journey towards home.

I jog through the city with the sun rise welcoming each of panting breaths. The few runners and walkers greet me with a head nod. I’m on my endorphin high. My mind is clear..  I feel.

I arrive home. My mindful moments are hidden in the recesses of my cerebral. I prepare my day while listening to NPR. Having only 30 minutes, I liven up the environment by changing the radio station to a Spanish one. The broadcasters are so energetic along with being funny.  I find comfort in hearing the Spanish voices as it reminds me of growing up, constantly hearing my family members speak. Time to leave and catch the Metro. While on the metro I challenge myself to finish the Sudoku in the newspaper before my stop. I arrive at my stop and walk to the office observing the many faces hustling throughout Nation’s capital.

At many points during the day I return to my mindfulness reservoir, allowing for self compassion laced with empathy. Funny, the reservoir never seems to run dry.  Correction, when I don’t access the reservoir it does seem to dry up. I realize that practice renews the well.

Morning, once again will arrive.  This time I plan to actually wake up before the alarm on my phone so I can spend a few more minutes at my happy place.

Salus Vita

My Miracle

The story Teller came into my life at a point where I had stop believing. I had stop believing in miracles. I had been living for years suppressing my fears of abandonment; I was looked at as confident and strong women. Inside my being I struggled with a ego dystonic sense of self. That inconsistency within my own person cultivated a loss curiosity, hope, and belief in miracles. I could play the part demanded. As I write, I recognize that my entire life was not totally out of line. One area of which exemplifies an ego syntonic sense of self was in being a mother.

My inability to feel safe. My fear of Abandonment

The sense of abandonment had rendered me emotionally dis-regulated. I don’t “have” memories of my childhood. Memories begin for me around the age of 12, just in time to remember the molestation. My father left, I am told when I was nine. I would not see him for another 30 years. He left and did not turn back. He had no contact with me or my siblings, his children. He never reached out, he seemed he never cared. My parents divorced when I was 11, again, as it is told. My mother was emotionally unavailable as she was busy surviving. My siblings, one by one, left me alone to care for my mother. I felt so utterly forsaken.

Emotional wellness demands physical and emotional care. When this care goes unmet, insecurities begin to creep in. For me, abandonment took on the form in being (gave the appearance of) a confident secure person. I could do it alone. I didn’t need anyone. Borderline personality tendencies began to take root and become my status quo of life. I love you, I hate you, I don’t trust, I can’t trust you, Please don’t leave me I’ll do anything. Won’t you just love me? I’m tough I don’t need anyone….Thanks to a former male companion, I was challenged to live beyond the staus quo.

Living the Abandonment

Showing emotion was a sign of vulnerability and I was not going to make myself vulnerable to get hurt. The first time my daughters saw me cry was right after their father and I had separated. I was visiting my oldest daughter in North Carolina with her sisters. My front headlight had gone out on my Volvo. It was Sunday and I took it a shop to get the light fixed and they told me they would have to order that part. The part would arrive Monday. I went back to my daughter’s home I recall sitting with my girls in the living room and feeling so overwhelmed I started to cry. I My oldest daughter looked at me and said, “I have never seen you cry.” She was 22 years old at the time.

For so long, I put the needs of others before my own; wasn’t that what any good Christian would do? Though in doing so, I lost a greater sense of self. Caring for others is noble charge; for me it servers two purposes. First, it protected me from thinking or dealing with my own stuff and made me feel good. After all, if you knew me and my stuff why would you love me or like me. I played a part, acted out a role.

Success? I could never measure up. I had to work hard just to gain the approval and acceptance of others. Mistakes, I thought reflected upon my person. A professor, Dr Perry, at A & M University in Normal, Alabama first introduced me to the concept of mistakes being growth opportunities. I still doubted; but, a seed was planted.

The Story Teller

I have been on the healing journey. I was asked, by The Story Teller, what has been instrumental in my healing. My God (not religion) and learning to sit. The Story Teller has only been in life a short while; in that brief time frame he has awaken my curiosity as never before. He dares me to trust in myself. He challenges me to tell my story. To have the courage to trust, to love. To be alive. I add to my list of “things” that have been instrumental in my healing, The Story Teller.

Syntonic Self

My strength and confidence today are not masks to hide pain or fear. I recognize that perhaps other’s may not be so appreciate of the change. I however, with all respect, am living Egosyntonic sense of self. My behaviors, values, and feelings are in harmony with my needs and goals while in being consistent with my ideal self-image.

Miracles are laced with hope and curiosity. I am thankful for my journey. I am thankful for My Story Teller who appeared at the right time.

“I Am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become.”
Carl Jung

 

That feeling of utter despair, disappointment, or disillusionment.  The reasons vary to why  such utter sorrow is birthed; yet, the pain  feels like it will never cease. Breathe. Breathe. It doesn’t seem to work. Breathe, Breathe. Why doesn’t it work? With each breathe taken I attempt the conceal the pain instead of embracing the awareness of the moment. I cannot imagine the emotional pain ceasing, it is truly too profound. Breathe now with acceptance. Breathe now with acceptance. Perhaps,  forgiveness is the issue. Can I forgive my stupidity? Can I forgive my ignorance? Can I forgive my impulsiveness? Can I forgive desire?  Breathe now with acceptance and without judgement. Breathe now with acceptance and without judgement. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. Despite the uncertainty, each breathe gives me hope. Hope at this moment in time to  embrace my despair, disappointment, and or my disillusionment. I am not my stupidity, or my ignorance, my impulsiveness, or my desire. I am person with dreams and passions who is willing to take the chance on myself. When that dept of sadness arrives, not if,  I will offer myself compassion and breathe. When I can no longer cry and my heart dies, it is only for a moment. After that moment my life begins anew. Salus Vita