Israel and Sebastian Joes

I just went to get sorbet by myself because I was feeling lonely. Sebastian Joes is down the street, I was hoping I'd walk in and it would be hoppin, and I could sit down and people watch or something. But it was just me. I ate half of each of my scoops and then went to the liquor store to buy sprite. 

When I walk that direction I pass by a fancy restaurant with big windows that I always stare in, and sometimes the people stare back. 

I am walking with a slight limp because I pulled something in my leg. It was feeling better again today and then i walked around isles, and half way through it began to hurt. Then I got home and felt kind of lightheaded like the pain had gotten to me worse than it had. I am not sure what's up with me today... and yesterday... and the day before. 

Maybe its the whole retrograde thing, or the moon, or having a job beginning. 

Some folks have pointed out that I might be grieving the loss of time on my own, but its pretty transparent what I am grieving. I miss being in a relationship. I miss loving someone and hoping they love me back. Its a weird sort of melancholy that just drowns out other things. I feel stuck again. I feel like crying and can't. I crave deepness, but don't want it with friends and family, I want to be chosen and choose someone to love. 

Its been hard because I was doing really well, then suddenly I got a job and I am back to feeling alone. I was doing a lot of spiritual stuff that made me feel connected, but I don't really right now. I guess that was always my definition of hell. I am less intrigued, less excited, just want to sleep, even though the sun is out and I "should be" happy. Maybe that's what it is, I feel like I should be happy, but I am not. 

Vic sent me a really nice text, that was probably the highlight of the day. 

I am apparently on parent-care duty this week, helping my parents recover from surgeries...

fragile white people

Before we broke up, M traumatized me into feeling bad about not being a good enough anti-racist. 
The difficulty is that I was going to her (my partner) to discuss a situation that had happened at work that wasn't sitting well with me, and my idea was that I would talk it through with her and then go back and do the real work of making change. 
But all she heard was "I didn't act (in the moment)"  and threw it in my face basically implying I was a coward and not good enough for her, rather than seeing it as a serious opportunity for change.
Thats her shit. I know that now. 

But I have and will continue to work on my shit:
Recently I joined this white fragility book club at my progressive social/racial justice church. But from the moment I walked in, I felt like they were making us too comfortable and not really jumping in. We have to get grounded in the rules, and the shared definitions, and the blah blah blah. Which means we have three meetings left (spaced out a month apart), to delve deeper. 

I took a moment to point out some commonalities and the inherent contradictions coming up in our attempts to discuss one aspect of being white and wanting to become anti-racist...which is that we are told not to burden people of color with our ignorance/naïveté/racism while also not ever being educated on how to grow out of that socialized behavior/world view -EG don't ask your black coworker to give you feedback because it puts the burden on them, however you are surrounded by other white people who don't have the answer either -leading to avoidance of the issue rather than understanding or discussion. I said its like growing up only knowing English, and asking someone else who also grew up knowing english to teach you about other languages that neither of you know.  A bunch of people responded trying to say that it was "good" to not "harm" people of color with our own ignorance, and I thought that went without saying, however, I was trying to point to the author's reflection that one aspect of white supremacy that reinforces itself is the good/bad binary, - so by trying to not be racist (don't ask the person of color), you are staying racist (because the white people don't know), and that even as we talk about it, the tone and word choices imply that a person is bad for not knowing or being wise to the water that we are swimming in...
apparently it went over their heads. 

I guess I was just frustrated with the idea that we were all there having sought out a book/discussion on white fragility, but we are still too fragile, and unwilling to think critically about it. I would basically say this is white liberal guilt about taking the wrong steps, and reinforces the same old power dynamic. 

Progress is a not measured in clarity of mind.

Spent the afternoon hanging with Vic. Talking through a bunch of shit, but not necessarily feeling cogent. We walked around the lake. We took in the sun. We ate at caravelle. 

It was a good day. 

Yesterday I got a job. Though I suppose I still haven’t signed a letter. Seems like I will start work in early March. 

I was excited. I felt more stable and grounded, and comfy. Then almost immediately I felt lonely, and lost, and not sure what the next steps of my life would be outside of this pillar. Part of it was that I told all the people who I thought might be interested, and then I went home and was by myself all night and all morning. Like… yay me! Oh ALL me.  

 I know, first we get the jobs, then we get the khakis… but there is some significance to the idea of moving into a new position in which I will be serving others, for who knows how long, and what will my life be besides that?  How will I get all the other things met?

The other reason is that my tarot lady said I would find out that molly was dating someone on Friday. I didn’t find that out. I think there are a lot of times where I hear the tarot/horoscope message and get grounded in it, and then assume the shoe will drop or whatever… but it doesn’t always. I am pretty sure she is dating someone, but I didn’t find that out yet, and maybe I never will. Ir maybe it will be today and not yesterday. I need to stop assuming everything is literal when some cards predict it. Could be talking about a million other people. 

But generally the cards, the horoscopes, etc have been pretty accurate lately. 

After accepting the job yesterday my fortune cookie told me I woud be successful in business. Signs from the universe?

Balance. 

Or rather, “order, balance, harmony, flow” as the Sourcepoint book would say. 

I didn’t go to the event today obviously. I will probably go home and read or play computer games. 

Tomorrow is white fragility book club and church.

Monday I run errands with my Dad. 

Tuesday?

Wednesday I have neurofeedback.

Thursday I get my car fixed. 

dreams, preparation, challenges

It's colder in my apartment than I want it to be. Supposed to be warm today, but its early still, and I am huddled around my computer, kind of wanting to crawl back into bed.

I woke up with a strange dream. But I will come back to that.

I went to bed in a fairly good place. I had done some meditation and some praying. I was trying to remind myself to be my true self, and that in doing so I can be a better vessel for G-d -that I can do the work I am meant to do. That maybe my ego isn't what's important here, and that if I am called to do challenging work, then I should go do the work because that is what I am meant to do.

More and more I am aware that there was some attachment to the position that is now being challenged, there was this idea that I would fall back into something that felt good, a place of confidence, a warm golden light. And maybe I will continue to have that at the new place, but suddenly I am off balance again, questioning whether I am being valued, and what does that say about the work I will be doing? Will I feel at a lack?

Surprisingly, I am responding with some outer confidence, normally these types of situations make me feel like I have to take what is given, but part of me wants to say something about it today. I don't think they had poor intentions, but maybe the air needs to be cleared.
Part of it though, is that it is triggering the same spot for me that I had with M. That idea of a promise, not fulfilled for lack of truly investing in me. Is that what I want in a job? Does a job like that exist?  If I take this one, does it mean I won't have the one that is abundant OR does it simply delay, does it mean I am not creating my abundance and making the most of opportunities. I don't know. But its hard to have the same set of feelings triggered when I am considering committing to something. Maybe what I am looking for just doesn't exist when you are working in this field. Front lines work, regardless of where the front is.
It seems my perspective has shifted again, but we shall see how the meeting goes today. Does it feel like a positive environment? What is the vibe?


This is all out of order, but there were basically 4 distinct interactions. (files, Jess V, Jodi, Grandma)

In the dream we were on a bus. I was surrounded by folks I knew, some more so than others. I can't remember who was sitting across from me, but they were an old friend, someone I would normally want to impress but also would feel comfortable being myself with. At different points I was paging through a portfolio of paper files (could be the book, could be curriculum), I was paging through it like it was important, but no one around me knew what was what, it was mine. At another point, Jess V was there. I don't really remember talking to her, but wanting her to approve and be present, acknowledge me, be on my side. And she was. There was also a video clip of Jodi and her daughter, and they were hilarious commercials in which she was super glamorous and singing a song or something. It was out of character, except not, because it was Jodi's energy. And the people around me who knew her (which made me feel good -that different worlds were actually the same) were all enjoying it with me. But suddenly she was talking directly to me, talking about when we would go on our date (we decided that we would go on a speed date with people, and that my mom would pay for both of us).  It was nice to be acknowledged amongst people who knew her, but didn't know the connection. Like a special wink. I was talking to someone on the bus, or rather, I was listening and asking questions, and giving them the attention they deserved. It was a serious thing, and I wanted to be fully present, but suddenly my Grandma was on the bus. And I stopped listening and hugged her. Turned my attention back towards the person, but then did it again. Three times, I stopped listening to hug her. And it felt far more warm and comforting, and secure than any time I ever hugged her in person. She had the presence of the love I have for my mom, but it was my Grandma instead. Each time, it was disturbing to me that I would turn away from this other person who mattered, to invest in my self, and each time it felt like I tuned them out completely to do so. By the end, they stopped talking, and asked -and I said that was my grandma sending love from my mom.

Associations:
The files -when I was looking at them felt like work, but it was something I was proud of, something I wanted to show off but didn't want to be shared, they were mine. It was my work. In the light of day, my first association is that this was my book, my second is that it was curriculum or materials gathered for working. Either thing is like that to me. Its a treasure that I want to share -but not necessarily share credit for, something that I personally feel proud of. The other person feels like Laurel in my head -someone who I would have exactly this type of relationship with. Who would absolutely appreciate the work, but would also know exactly how it feels to have it come from within.

Jess V. Someone who I have always admired, wanted their approval and attention. And who triggers that feeling in me that I am not good enough, not deserving, will be rejected. (karmic shit)

Jodi. Passion and excitement, joy, fun and positivity wrapped in the personhood of someone who is struggling more than they should be. If the world were a fair place, she'd be on top. But instead she struggles. In the dream though, she is seen for who she is, and getting all that she deserves.

Grandma/listening. I was never particularly close with my grandma. She was not a warm person even though she attended to us with warmth -it was an effort on everyones part. In this dream she did not present that way. She was not herself -she was more archetypal, the warm, affectionate, caring, robust, appreciative grandma, reaching out for a hug not words, not advice... sadly, the security is the part that resonates most with me. My Grandma's money (or that side of the family) is and has been my security the entirety of my adult life. I have taken jobs knowing that I didn't need the money as much as others because of her. I have no substantial debts because of her. When I consider the salary that they offered, the thing that reminds me it is ok is because of stocks and blah blah blah. My grandma reaching out to hug me with security and warmth, drowning out the voice of the person I am listening to (the therapy work)... and me being ok with it. What does that mean?





Its funny.

On one hand I could interpret all of this as...

Mike, stop trying to do the right thing, and do the things that bring you personal joy and pride. You have the security. You have the blessing. Do it.

Or

Mike, you are good at what you do, and you can continue to celebrate and be good at it, because you have the security. You are in a unique position to do good, be your whole self there, and you will be proud of the work.

Sticking and Bouncing

I've been back and forth all afternoon, thinking about this job. Trying to meditate and lean into my intuition. 
The truth is that I don't think its a very nice way to set someone up.

But I am also able to understand why things like this would make sense from there end, perhaps even consider it as a recognition that I could do well. 

There is an assumption I am making that the other program is less well established, and maybe struggling which I don't know to be true. But there is a feeling none the less, that it will be more challenging. 

And I am aware that some part of me wanted to feel comfortable. To fit in. To slide right into a made bed, and thank the heavens for a fit in the world, rather than jostle my way into one and be part of the transformation. Maybe I am reeling because I don't yet feel ready for the challenge. 
Maybe I am supposed to say no. 
Maybe I am supposed to jump on board and take up the new path, make it my own, carve my niche. Or maybe to take a few turns on the spinning wheel, and then dismount more gently into the next thing. 

I don't know. 

In the source point book they talk about the help of guardians. A brief meditation on the "golden egg" -the surrounding sphere of energy that you exist in/as. I have been feeling the familiar low vibrations of grief and insecurity, or being lied to/ taken advantage of, and I am unsure what is real and what is just my fear.

The world doesn't seem as hopeful as just hours ago. Nicola promises ascendence, is this that? or do I choose that by walking away?    I guess I find out tomorrow. 

Jobs

Just got offered the job, but there is a catch.  A different site, a different team, different supervisors. They need a guy therapist. Seems like about half the staff have been there for 1 year and the program has been open for 4 or 5.
The location is basically the same distance from me but in a different direction.
Would be making 45k (which is the minimum I would ask for at this point). Benefits seem fine. 3% match on a 401k. About 3 weeks of PTO, so could potentially take a week vacation.

Something about it feels a little less enticing and I don't know if that's because I haven't been there to consider the space -picture myself there, or if I am just feeling a little bait and switched.
Like, these are the kinds of things that make people less interested in jobs -corporate overlords shuffle  you depending on their need, pay you the minimum, and you end up moving on before there is a cohesive culture built. This is not the job I applied for, and not the space or team I interviewed.

If I think of it as a year or two, its fine, regardless.* But some part of me wanted to buy into a longer term path... I don't know if this is it because I haven't seen it. But maybe I am just projecting. I don't need the money in the same way others might. But I have already been offered 'potential things' that were higher. I would have most evenings and weekends open, and could take on clients or do workshops or volunteer or have a life if I wanted. But I want my day job to be something I am passionate about. A place that I feel excited to go to.

Some part of me wonders if there is some personal racism/classism involved here. Different area of town than I grew up in, unfamiliar with the building. Presumably different background for some of these kids. I enjoyed all the clients I had up in that area, but it often felt like the needs of the clients were very different. Anxiety and depression in the context of lacking basics, is very different than being flush and not knowing how to fit in. What would that mean for the client population and the kind of work I'd be doing with them? Potentially this is a great change, potentially not. I don't really know.

My Dad's old boss basically offered him a position in Rochester, and he was trying to get me to take it. I don't think I want a whole new life. If I wanted that, I would move out of state. You'd have to throw me a 100k to move to Rochester, and even then, it would only be for a year or two. Not worth it.

The pay is such a funny thing. I know that 45k is enough for me to live on. I know I am newish to the particular field, but I have been working with kids and teens basically since I was one. So what does 15 years of experience get ya?  A friend of mine recently told me she switched fields to computer programming and made $70k upon entering the field with no prior experience. 15 years experience gets me $15,000 less than she makes? Seems weird right?

A year or two until I am fully licensed. Then a whole new set of opportunities to prove myself. I have entered every job I have ever taken saying 1-2 years tops, and some lasted longer and were life changing and wonderful. Some weren't. Maybe this is a great opportunity. Maybe this is a year or two. I have no idea where I will be by this time next year. If I had predicted that a year ago, I would have been very wrong. This time next year, maybe I am headed off to Mongolia. Maybe I have died of the corona virus. Maybe I am engaged to be married and have triplets on the way. Maybe I am ready to start a private practice, go to the UU seminary, go on pilgrimage to Mecca, or take up baby sitting duties for my niece and nephew. Maybe I decide I want to be a writer and an artist, and never want to work with teens again. Maybe I am super satisfied and excited to start year two?

We never really know do we.

((((After a touch of emailing.  I am going to visit the location tomorrow. We shall see. Don't let desperation make decisions for you Mike.))))

Days go by

There is a democratic primary debate happening. I turned it off. I don't really care about politics right now, because generally I assume we will choose poorly, and I know the extent to which I will participate this time around is voting, and maybe posting something on facebook. And that's about it.


I was walking through the toy aisle at Target and though I thought of the kids, I didn't have the same pull it used to. It was this moment of realizing how much has changed since last fall. It felt good, and bad at the same time. Lately I have been feeling more distant, less argumentative, more grateful. Like "Thank god you broke up with me, because I would have thrown my life away trying to please you and failed forever."   but of course it isn't that simple is it. I have been wondering how I would respond if I saw her, would I want to run? would I think of her as a hurt child? would I want to fight? Would I want to compliment her and ask her for coffee? Would I want to say goodbye? My chest hurts still.  Maybe I will just whisper "Thankyou for stopping by."   https://youtu.be/cPG6nJRJeWQ 


The tarot reader and the horoscope and the fortune cookies, all keep proclaiming that I am about to have a golden time. That I will be set, and new experiences and opportunities that are in high vibration are all just around the corner. I had a good day. I have been having good days. But nothing major has changed logistically. I went for a long walk with Rachel through a nature reserve. Had Pho 79 with Katie. Has coffee with Angela. Will probably have dinner with Illy tomorrow. KT reached out again. People are asking and I am enjoying the time. Shultz and Courtney texting. All good vibrations. But I might need more structure than this to move forward in life.


Still waiting to hear back on the job. I don't know what I will do with out it. Still wondering if some recent new people in my life will stay part of my life, or whether they were just a blink.


I have been posting to instagram more, I guess I need more outside validation?  I think it keeps me feeling more productive and a touch more creative.


I spent the afternoon with Angela, we always have more than enough to talk about. Different backgrounds and experiences, very similar mindset and interests. We discussed therapy and relationships, and the field, and books.


I read a little of the source point book today, and I feel like I got it pretty quickly. If the world is full of energy, each lifeform (and maybe non living things also) have a "blueprint" of their ideal form. I didn't get too far into it, but began wondering if later chapters will talk about the impact of other blueprints influencing us, or whether health issues simply derive from not being in tune with our own blueprint. Either way, I feel like I will get it, will enjoy the book but see it as just another framework humans have imposed on the same old structures -so the question will be how is this lens helpful? How does it obscure?  How does it hinder?   For instance, natural death and disease could be blamed on a person for not being within their blueprint (and that seems wrong).


I read the first dozen poems of another book and thought it sounded a lot like someone had taken any number of the books I have on my shelf and just simplified them down to a handful of lines, then published it.  This is a pet peeve I am not always sure how to express. Quit rebranding something and calling it yours without giving credit to those who came before you.


I am basically reading 6 books and paging through a few more. The Lies of Locke Lamorra is the fun read at night. Divine Names is for prayer and meditation. White Fragility for the book club. The poetry book, the source point book, A Good Time for the Truth when I want something hard. A few books on chakras and energy healing. And maybe start the book Courtney recommended which came from amazon today.  Amazon is dangerous is what I am trying to say. I have something like 50-60 books to read and new ones keep getting added to the list.


Listening to lots of Jesca Hoop, Dessa and Anais Mitchell. The last few years its become all female musicians. Maybe something about hearing at this age.


My Dad is recovering from his surgery, but struggling with the imposition of having to stay still. He doesn't do well without moving. We played chess. He kicked my ass. I wondered if he was pulling punches. I should tell him about some of the stuff I am doing in therapy around my relationship with him. We could be adults about things.


"I learned my lesson the hard way once..."
I always thought that was a great opening line.


Can't think.  Light some incense. Chant some arabic. Fill up the humidifier. Brush my teeth. Read some fiction. Try to sleep. Roll over a million times. Dream all the weird things. Wake up hoping for a call. Watch some tarot videos with a fruit smoothie and some triscuits (which is a great combo btw). Do some laundry. Play comp games or read a book. Write? See illy? Life is simple. Days go by.

MIKE!!!!!

Queer spaces

I always feel a little less on edge in queer spaces. There is something about being in a place, where everyone is ok with you checking them out, and just adoring their cute face, appreciating their voice, their movement, their fashion sense, just saying or not saying, I like your freaky self, I am glad you exist.


That being said, I was wearing too many layers and quickly became embarrassed/sweaty/awkward when Vic was talking me up and her friend seemed too interested in reassuring me. It was lovely. It was also funny to have such a complete unknown, but obviously someone vouched for, someone who would enjoy this kind of event.


And the event.  You never know what you're walking into when it comes to queer performances, this one had laughs, tears, awkwardness, audience interaction, awe, grossed out... all the things really.

There were three performances that stood out.
The first was about grief. A woman read a reflection ending with an allusion to Lot's wife turning back and becoming a pillar of salt and comparing it to the salty sting of her own skin after the death of her mom. Grief is salty.  The dancers performed their grief in a variety of ways, but it didn't hit me until the man began pouring salt all over the deceased woman's body. At times it was tender, other times anger, such hurt. He began pouring a second canister of it, and offered another dancer a third, and suddenly the candles placed around her body were recognizable. They were not candles, but a dozen more cans of salt, the grief was enormous, it was unending, it came on in waves, in a million different feelings and movements. They seemed to have to physically remove it from themselves, and then return to put more salt on her.   It was beautiful.

Another performance was a mock tv show of a mating ritual between two bugs -the performers became wrestlers, became a sort of gross mating scene, and then the voice over came back and announced that the tv show had done its job and transformed the audience members in the same way the bugs had mated disgustingly and transformed on stage, suddenly audience members (including a girl next to me) stood up and began to dance violently, jerking in all sorts of ways and spit up blue goo.  One of the directors had to clarify that they were not aware of the audience participation and were totally taken off guard as they made announcements for the intermission.

The last performance was about a queer latina woman (played by two people) as she is struggling with her identity as a latina in the US (where as a child she first had to split herself into two people), and later as a gay woman. The performance literally had us all crying as the girl prepares to have her hair shaved off by her male friend. He tries to talk her out of it, but she asks him if he knows she is gay, he jokes that chicago turned her that way, but ultimately says he loves her regardless. She tells him about her abuse. And he is there for her. We are all crying our eyes out, and he jokes that it won't be the first time she had a bald head because when she was born her hair grew into a mohawk and her grandma shaved it off, but it grew back the same way, and suddenly we are all laughing as the two women hold each other and her guy best friend who loves her starts to shave her head (not really). One part of her gets up and completes the ritual and she sings to the audience in spanish. ---my spanish is not great, but I think she is singing about how in loving herself she is able to go away (meaning go back to being one person). It was just a beautiful performance throughout, and honestly being with Vic and considering the kinds of things people have to do to integrate or detach themselves is just a powerful thing that doesn't really get discussed in white/hetero circles.



It's really meaningful to be exposed to things. Today I went to an indigenous march, tonight I went to a queer POC performance. As a white dude, I often feel like I am supposed to know and be responsible for everything... but I can't even guess without people being willing to teach me.
Makes me really grateful to the folks who have been so vulnerable with my stupid ass over the years.

India (abundance)

I had this dream, it was kind of funny. 

So in the dream I really need to make this train (which doesn't make sense). It is a train to India I guess, and I am supposed to be going on a trip with a group of people. But I made a pitstop home to repack my bags. I am going through my bags (I have 4 small ones), and I am trying to decide what is unnecessary so that I can move forward less burdened. I am aware that time is running out, that I really need to go, but it is taking me a lot of time. I can't figure out what is important, and what is just for kicks, and I know that I will be able to buy anything I need there, but I am also struggling to let go (hints?). People are standing around and some are pressuring me to hurry up, but there are little toys and things that I keep thinking I might need in order to entertain the group. I don't know what to keep, what to share, what to assume will be there in the future.

Eventually I realize I only have 20 minutes till the train leaves, and I know that isn't even enough time to get to the station. I have delayed. I have failed. 
My mom is there, and rather than scolding me, or reassuring me, she just says, maybe you didn't actually want to go?  (or something like that). 

I am considering this, when I wake up. I am still groggy, still in the dream, I am distinctly aware of looking at my bags, now packed... and realizing that I am already in India. That the train leaving the station didn't actually mean anything. I could catch up later if I wanted to. I could move forward and live without the group. I already have what I need. There is nothing to worry about, stop being scared. Life is abundant and it is only your perceptions holding you back.


****As a side note, my perception of India when I was there and since, has always been that it is abundant and thriving in a way that western (mike's) can't truly understand. That you could spend life times there and that it would still be awe inducing.

I don't really know what I want to write yet. The day has been pretty good. Mostly chill, nothing going on. I have some slight anxiety about tomorrow (protest and performance with Vic). The weekend promises to be busy (therapy, a movie w/ Illy?, church parents, niece and nephew?). I finished the first book of the Expanse, and a few more chapters of the Tara Brach book. Not sure what to read next, but my White Fragility club will start soon, so maybe that. Watched some YOU last night and played some computer games. I think I have been lonely, and yet I am not necessarily wanting to reach out to a million folks. I have been chatting more with people who are far away than those nearby. Comfortable in my isolation?

I guess that processing yesterday really opened me up. I feel so much more hopeful and excited about the future, about possibilities. I am still tempted to fall back into old patterns, but I am also thinking about good futures that aren't filled with conflict and drama. That seem promising in a way that is rewarding for my spirit. I noticed last night that I didn't want to go to sleep at 7:30 pm and that felt like a good sign that maybe life was on the up and up. It kind of surprised me to realize how often I have felt like giving up the day early lately. 

I keep reading the energy worker's blog. Her way of seeing the world is so similar to mine. I read a few posts at a time and then feel inspired. I like that she is human, positive oriented, but aware that she is keeping herself from sinking. If I had met her instead of M, would have been a very different experience of dating an adoptee. I guess, this woman's writing is more similar to how I wish M could have been reflective and honest with herself. I can't say that I am regretful of the past few years, I am actually feeling very grateful for the gifts, and looking forward to the next cycle, because this one is complete, and I think I have learned the lesson (or at least got the taste I needed, to learn it again in a more meaningful way next time). Karma is a fun one. 

But I am still in a holding pattern. Waiting for the next job. Next partner. Next opportunity.
I was thinking that I might need to add something soon. My book club is going to be on Sundays. I don't really have anything on the weeknights, or at least nothing of a routine. 

Maybe I will start going to a meditation group, or join a gym or something. I was supposed to do a community ed class with Vic, but I forgot to sign us up on time. I should probably buy 25 lbs of clay and just show up at her house with some tools.  Today I saw two people watercoloring at this coffeeshop and I was quite envious. I am pretty sure they were a couple. I would love a partner that just wanted to sit with me, and watercolor. Or a partner that wanted to sit and write a song with me. Or for that matter a partner that wanted to write with me. Something creative, something inspiring. We could go back and forth editing, and adding, and loving. 

I wish I felt more inspired to write my book during this time of waiting. There are plenty of nights where I am thinking about it for hours, adding little things to the chapters, fleshing out the story. The daydreaming is a necessary part of the process (I did that for two years before I even started writing) but so is sitting down and typing, at least editing, and adding details.  I still haven't really figured out my process, but I know it takes multiple revisions for me to be satisfied with a chapter. So its like writing a chapter 3-5 times, and a book where there are something like 50-60 x 4 chapters... I need help staying on track. Someone to be excited when I am not feeling it. There is also this realization that not every paragraph is going to be exceptional. That at times the story needs to move without getting bogged down in the writing, but I don't know when those moments are. Sometimes when I read a scene I have read a millions times already -once the newness has worn off, I am super dissatisfied, feeling as if maybe I skipped over the heart of the scene just to get it on the page. I hate that. But would the reader even notice? I mean they didn't read it a million times. There are plenty of books that I have loved that have parts that drag. It's ok to drag a little - I guess I just hope that those details become important later. 

Today is another day when I don't know what I am doing later. No plans to see anyone. Probably need to get groceries. But other than that. Maybe its netflix and computer games. Seems like a waste of time. I get frustrated because I really like being home, but it is basically a certifiable truth that nothing new will occur if I am at home. I mean, I will be me, and do all the me things. But I won't be impacted by the outside world... so if I go home I have to resign myself to no exciting possibilities that night. Soon enough though, I will be working my ass off again. Better be grateful for this time off.  


What could I do tonight? 

Dissipate

I dedicate this to you,

            but first, 

                        fire

            -scorch the earth collected 

            blow out the flame, 

                  watch,     inhale,   let go

the whispers reach heavenward,       

the scent broadens through the space,

-and with it,

the taste of

            the first painful bite

            an outline traced

            as plumes of smoke

            recreate your face

a memory, 

            twirls, salutes

                    twists into nothingness

                                                let go

snakes across my collar bone, 

            knotting into my chest, 

branching across the bridge of my nose

to aggravate my eyelashes

                                                let go

cascades, 

            diving, colliding this;

                        sorrow swirls,

            taut and flaring,

                        a maelstrom uprooting

                                                let go

                        watch them narrow, eddy

            watch them divide,

forked fingers,            fearful

            bent knuckles, twisting,

                        tapping the vaporous

            scratching 

                        until dissolution 

                  watch,     inhale,   let go.

PS

PS on that last post,

Left between protecting my concept of you, and my concept of myself, I throw myself out the window to protect my heart (and concept of you). 

How many times have I expressed that in a million ways.

And still... even though it causes me to act out, to hurt, to hate, to be bitter, I keep doing it.

Some part of me has tied this idea to the larger self... its a values thing. 

I am only forgivable for my actions, if I can forgive you, believe in you, love you. 

Is this a christian thing? (my child version of christianity was extremely black and white)

Is this an empath, middle child, child of divorce, caretaker thing?

I am an optimistic cynic. I will acknowledge my hatred and pain, but I will always fight my own anger and bitterness to protect this underlying value, otherwise I don't really see any point in living. 

If there isn't hope that people can change and be their true selves, then what is the point?

crying... And something else

The last few days I have had headaches, stomach aches, the energy depleted. It's been ugly, cold and wintery. Even when the sun has been out, it's felt lacking. I thought I had a migraine. But ultimately I just felt disconnected from my self and the world, the sensory all tremendously irritating. I felt like I needed to cry, but couldn't. It kept getting stuck. Today I did some meditation, but it wasn't very conscious, I didn't have the brain power for making it conscious, so I just sat with it, and suddenly began to cry. And it felt good. Embarrassing to use a half dozen napkins at this coffee shop but ultimately good.

I have been watching YOU, because Shultz (sad this isn't her name anymore...) recommended it, and as I texted her at 12:30 am (1:30 am her time) I find it to be "obnoxiously relatable." Not the killing part. But the rest. The human mind is funny.

"This belongs"
((Radical Compassion by Tara Brach))
Part of the book I am reading and using to meditate, asks the person to seek out the feeling (get out of the thoughts) and then attend to the feeling, saying things like "this belongs" so that you aren't judging yourself and distracting from the healing. Typical mix of buddhism, body work and western psychology. The type of shit I read all the time. But it's important to make a practice of it... and so I did and began to cry, "this belongs," and suddenly so much more capacity to feel.


My intentions were good. They were loving. They were oriented in trying to meet a need I saw in you, and one in me. I heard your heart song, and knew it, and knew you knew mine. "...oh..." that subtle attunement that suddenly feels like a hammer blow. I had hoped by attending to yours, you'd have the capacity to attend to mine. Maybe it doesn't work that way. Maybe, the secret is that we all have to attend to our own, remind ourselves we are lovable, belong, have a place, are worthy, are acceptable in our full selves.  I couldn't be what you NEEDED me to be, and you couldn't be what I NEEDED you to be. The desperation was palpable. I saw the little ways you were holding yourself back and judged. You saw mine. We rejected each other and by doing so, ourselves. We pulled back. Acted out. The cycle repeats. This is karmic attachment after all. 
Underneath though, or rather, more directly on the surface of life, I fell in love, experienced more than I have in a long time, found places of myself I hadn't known, depths I'd not encountered, shallows I'd been afraid to admit. I spent so much time just loving the feeling of your presence that the world felt bitter without it. I watched myself bypass my own boundaries, talk myself off the ledge of safety and fear, choose the flame of life, get burned, and all in the desire for growth, for healing, or maybe just for the longed for feeling of comfort. It was real, but I let it become the only reality, compromise the rest of me for it, addictive. And then it was gone. And I have been fiending ever since. 

What was it I wanted and could not express?  Oh isn't that the melody?
Love me, accept me, understand me without me having to ask, wrap me up in your hugs, cherish my accomplishments and my mistakes, challenge me to grow by seeing the next step, offer the boost, so that I don't have to be afraid anymore, don't have to second guess my every move, word, thought. Assure me I am not wrong for my desires, and that you trust my choices, and can forgive me easily when I stumble. See me for my whole self, encourage me to expand, to express, to speak through the megaphone again and again. To dance. To laugh. To leap across the gaps and discomforts. Hold my hand when I am in it. Pull me back when I am lost. Inspire me to move forward. Not just the good stuff either, see me for my wrongs and hold me accountable with loving embrace. Love me fully. Be present with me, and by doing so, allow me to open up and be... to just be everything I am. 

Voiceless. We were both left voiceless, acting out, wishing the other would attend to us, fulfill us, inspire us, know us so completely and meet our needs without us having to ask. 


And when I did ask? Defensiveness. Rejection. Projection. 
I need to remind myself it's projection, a defense mechanism, not a judgment. Throwing it back in my face. Treating me the exact way you've been feeling, ashamed, alone, guilty, too hurt to open up. Leave me with the feeling of abandonment. Blame me for stonewalling, because the truth is that as much as I was talking, I still wasn't meeting your need, so it didn't matter. Accuse me of using you. Because you wanted me to be enough, but I couldn't be, so it felt like you were using me. I wasn't enough to fill the hole, so you were reminded just how big the hole was, and rather than face it, blame me for not trying hard enough... just like you feel all the time. Not enough. Not acceptable. Not understood. Not loved. Not comforted. Not connected. Not enough. 

What does that little one need? Inside you're afraid it won't come. And it's true, it always has been, it must always be... So then why try? Reject them all before they reject you. They'll never understand. Never be what you need them to be.

This is what I understood to be true about you, and about me. But no matter what I did to try to connect and show you, and no matter what you did to try to connect and show me, it wasn't enough to assure either of us. 
Our song is a lonely song. I know it is shared by all of humanity, but our desperation... ohhh. 

and it's ok. It's real. It is as it is. It's just....



I was talking about my dad, and my Therapist stopped me, he said what is that "...oh..." asked me to write about the feeling that is the most. 

STOP in the moment, that moment that it hits you, that you need the other person to reassure, but they are unavailable. So you stop breathing, try to disarm the reflex to tighten, to hide, to shrink, try to swallow all your hopes with the sticky saliva, and extend your heart to them instead. Your stomach is knotted, your heart is aching, your voice caught in your throat, but you force through it, try to reassure them its ok that they are disappointing you, even disemboweling you - though they haven't guessed it yet. You know you would feel guilty, so you assuage their guilt preemptively, try to assure them they are still worthy of your love, and why? 
Because the "...oh" is the moment before heartbreak, a half second to save yourself, armor up, before you collapse. It's a half second before the impending doom, a recognition so real, that there isn't a choice. It's not rejection though it feels like it is, its not abandonment though it feels like it is, its the recognition that the other person will not choose you, no matter how easy you make it, maybe they can't (but of course you can't reconcile that in the moment). All you know is that you're not enough to be attended to, so take all the remaining energy you have and give it to them. It's a different type of projection, the same defense mechanism to avoid heartbreak, only disguised as caring. And you tell yourself its just this one time... but it becomes every time (or it feels that way). It becomes a pattern, of stopping the moment at the "oh" and instead of feeling the pain, turning it around and saying "You must be hurting quite a lot to do that to me, so let me extend my love back, even as it tears me into two, because you are worthy, and I need you to recognize that so that you'll assure me I am..." 

Disguised as caring, because there isn't enough left. Not really. I can't hold on to who I thought I was, and who I thought you were, so I'd rather pretend (this is a child's defense mechanism after all). Pretend like I am good and lovable by giving to you, reminding you of who I believe you are(assuming you must need the reminder), so that I don't have to feel what must be true if...

because the moment is deafening. Steals all the magic from the space. No longer a universe of infinite abundance, the bomb has gone off, there is no safety left, and it has sucked all the oxygen away and left me dizzy struggling to stand in place. There is only fear. Scarcity. Limits. Starvation. Here, you have it. The fact that you didn't offer it to me must mean I don't deserve it as much. Let my eyes and silenced voice ask the question, am I at least deserving of your crumbs?

Living and creating without an audience

...is difficult.

I was always impressed with M's ability to tell a story, to make even the mundane interactions into something worth hearing. I envied that ability, and didn't share my own stories.  I am reading a blog by the energy worker lady, she is discussing her process of creating or rather reflecting -a sort of documentation of the self -during the writing process. I had a blog like that for a while.

I have a desire to be good at something. My confidence isn't very high right now. I wish I had an audience to impress, but I fear I would let them down, as I have let myself down.

I really want to write a poem about being a rebound, giving some substance to the impact of it. I am struggling because the reality is a thing falling, cracking apart and revealing less substance than was previously believed, a sinkhole that devours and not much more. So the poem is a lament. An ode to a thing that was not. A blueprint never truly constructed. A construction site... is it worth excavating?
And yet, I dwell.  I dwell on no one acknowledging it. I dwell on the lack of audience. This was a period of my life, and the only proof I have is an ache. I used to worry that something would happen to her and I would show up at the funeral a mess, and no one would know (so many signs that something was off). I want to make it a story. Something complete. Something that compels, something that makes sense and names the wound. Something that causes the audience to say, I see now, there was something there, and it fell away without warning, so you aren't sure in your steps anymore...

It was nice to have the aura reader ask if someone had pulled away suddenly.
It was nice to have my parents say that they saw it was genuine (if temporary).

Idols and relationships

Struggled to sleep. Sometimes I think it has to do with the weather, maybe the full moon. Who knows. I had a million interesting dreams and wanted to stay part of them, but woke up in time for church.
In the shower I was arguing with her about love, painting her further and further into something she is not. This is my own way of trying to argue myself into boundaries and asserting my feelings, it likely has nothing to do with who she is. I want to send her a birthday text in a month, wishing her well. I want it to be real, genuine, and not a snide remark. I want to celebrate her, and also myself.
At church I realized I'd been harboring this grudge and that it wasn't what I really wanted, it was a distraction. I relaxed into the pew, but felt aches in my neck, shoulders and chest.
I want something genuine, something true, and I let myself be distracted by this relationship. The self deception and desire forced me into a corner. I continued to try to be what she needed, hiding my truth. It was a distraction, a drama, a karmic showdown, and it wasn't what either of us needed.
And then the preacher talked about idols, and I realized how easy it is to turn a relationship or a person into an idol. To want to constrict and control, to limit our self, and the other person, rather than be curious and open to the universe. It is easy to see how quickly something can go off kilter, one small deception, one small grievance, suddenly the world falls down all around us, and we point fingers and blame ourself or the other person. Both of us were caught up in an idol. Afraid of the truth because it was too big to comprehend.

And yet, all day I have been stunned by beautiful (attractive) people. I am so easily swayed to those limiting forms. So shallow, so awed by the impermanent. Three of four people smiled at me today, and any one of them could take me for the next spin down the wrong strand of karma. And I'd enjoy it immensely. Falling in love is a beautiful idol, G-d's image, breath, creation, but a finite piece is not G-d.

Sunshine, Energy, Bodies, Loneliness

Sunshine:
It was gray today, but for the last week its been sunny most days and the change in energy, motivation and feeling is absurd. It's hard to explain how big of a difference it makes. I've felt up for going for walks, seeing people, exploring. I've been singing and dancing and enjoying life, and then when the sun sets, I want to retreat into the covers of my bed.
It had been over a week before the sun shone, and I was getting nearly as dismal as the sky. The sun came out and I crawled up the water spout. 


Energy Healing (She would say she isn't the healer, but that she helps guide the source):
I went and saw an energy healer last week. Ever since my aura reader person I have been wanting to do this, and I saw it advertised and looked the lady up and decided in a split second to go. She asked why I chose her, and I mentioned her name sounded like an actress, but there was something else too. I am pretty sure she is a Korean adoptee, and there was something about the transference that made me want to go to her specifically. They don't look alike at all. Personality wise, she couldn't have been farther, but if I looked out of the corner of my eye at the right angle, with my glasses off, it felt like M was giving me back some of the energy she drained me of... and that was a weird helpful thing. The experience made me feel light headed, and goofy. I stumbled out of there with a grin on my face. Later I felt a little off, but the next few days, with the sunshine... I just felt more whole. More myself.  The actual experience was similar to reiki, but not reiki. The lady was really good at explaining with just enough detail, but not too much. She was reassuring and her voice reminded me of Lune Innate from youtube, word choice, phrasing, maybe all energy healers sound like that. I was really happy with the experience. At times I felt like I got a little more in touch with the larger picture of myself and my memories. That things were not good/bad, pain & anger or nostalgia and clinging... they just were what they were. And it was true I loved. And it is true I hurt. And none of this will keep me from a future that's better for me.


Bodies:
In the shower this morning, I realized I have had a mark on my leg for months. I thought it was a cut that I didn't noticed, that scabbed over and would heal. Its in the area where I got burned. I worried that maybe I have had skin cancer and didn't pay attention. I don't know. Could just be a scar that I shouldn't worry about. 

I went to an Embodied Antiracist Culture community workshop today, a space where white people deal with what it means to be white and antiracist, knowing that their bodies are capable of hurting people, but hoping to do the right thing too. Knowing it takes healing, and practice, and community. It was honestly a great experience and made me very comfortable with acknowledging that there are spaces in my body/history where I have been uncomfortable and will continue to be, and that is good. I processed an experience I had at work that lead to the fight, that M blamed on our breaking up.  She was so triggered and so intent on using it to make her point that she never even followed up... but I did, I will continue to, because regardless of her, this is one of the things that makes me me. 
I wish I could go to the group every month, but it will be during work hours. It will also be at M's work from now on, which is weird. I texted shultz one day to ask what the ethics around that were, and whether I should give her a heads up or just stroll in because its a public space. The politics of an unhealthy relationship. It didn't have to be this way. I didn't make it this way, even though I keep worrying I did. This was not my plan or choice. 

My Dad had surgery on his shoulder. They realized it was worse off than they expected, and did a bit of reconstruction. The recovery will be longer. There may need to be more surgeries. My Dad is on pain pills and slightly more irritable. He is worried they fucked him up more than he would like to be, worried that he won't get his mobility back, worried that it will lead down hill.  I am too. I have to "babysit" him on monday and tuesday, which doesn't mean much. Watch a movie or two. His hearing has deteriorated so much that it is difficult to talk with him sometimes. I really worry more about that than his arm, but he prides himself on being able to work/being active. Our egos are so fragile. 

Loneliness:
I keep seeing beautiful (mostly younger) folks at the coffee shops. I crave attention, possibility, someone who desires me. There are 8 billion people out there and I am wondering why I don't have anyone who wants to hold me at night. Today at the workshop, a person stopped me on the way out to introduce themselves. I should have taken that as a sign, that they kept talking even as I was bundled up and moving away. But I wasn't interested. As easy as swiping left. I was on my way out and already on to the next thing in my head. I was polite to her, but I don't remember her name and probably won't remember her face if I ever make it back there. I don't think I am even ready for a relationship, what would that be like for the person? Hey I was in love with my ex, probably still am, she went silent on me which drove me more crazy, now I am way more insecure than I was when I met her... how are you? How can I prove that I am lovable? How can I do that without care taking you until you throw me out an airlock?

I am hoping that I get a call about having a new job next week. Otherwise, I don't know. 
I have the money to stay unemployed. To travel. To make mistakes. But I want a career that is meaningful and supports me. I don't have the partner or kids to ground me. I don't have enough friends who can pressure me into doing myself good. I have to do it by myself, or maybe I might float away. Do something ridiculous. 

Session 1 of Neurofeedback: Rollercoaster

I want to write about the last few days, but before I get, I really want to document my first experience with neurofeedback:

So today I got lots of sleep, felt really good. Chatted with Courtney this morning, and generally felt confident and happy. I was laughing at things. The sun was out. I didn't eat that much, but didn't care.

Before the session I drank some coffee (might have been a bad choice?)

When I got there I was still feeling good. Started feeling a little nervous when we were scaling things, then felt my normal anxiety/embarrassment when she asked me to choose something on netflix or youtube and I couldn't decide. This was the normal level I would experience, and after picking Parks and Rec, I calmed down just fine.
I am going to amplify some of the word choices here to express the feeling of it, even though it was much more subtle when I was actually experiencing it, yet afterwards I was really creeped out and needed to put words to the experience (thus amplifying to really understand). This experience felt kind of similar to taking drugs. For someone like myself that is so used to being able to recognize, name and process feelings, it was completely unsettling.

The show began and I felt enthused, laughed a lot, felt like I should be multitasking a bit more, and started to watch and think about related things. I was intrigued by the process and wanted to know how it was working. It felt really good, and then suddenly I noticed feeling less enthused, less energized and a little bit uncomfortable in my stomach. This came on slowly enough that when she started asking me questions, and I couldn't think clearly, I didn't know what to say. Suddenly I realized my body felt weighted down internally, as if I was completely lacking energy, I wasn't excited or motivated, I could barely form words or pay attention to anything. Multitasking felt impossible at this moment, the show, her voice, the room, my body, there wasn't enough energy to deal with all of it. I would say an amplification of this was almost like being catatonic, and it had occurred so without my awareness that I felt I must be tricking myself into it. I had thoughts like "I'm fooling myself." "I feel crazy." "I feel stupid"  as this continued, I feel like the closest feeling for what I was experiencing was shame. She asked if I felt nauseous and I said yes, and then felt a little better because I truly wondered if I was just being stupid.
This feeling of nausea and weighted down internally gradually shifted into feeling low energy, but weighted both internally and externally (like a weighted blanket mixed with a heavy uncomfortable meal, thoughts were there, but only in short spurts, and though i could watch the show, it wasn't as funny, and everything was making me sad. I realized this felt different than a few minutes before, it felt like grief, like that moment when you are about to cry and don't even know why, or have any ability to stop yourself, or maybe don't want to.

After a few minutes of this, I felt tension in my stomach, but it wasn't the same nausea. It was more like having an ache. I could think clearly again, and didn't feel like crying but I was unsettled.

A little while later (I may get the order of this mixed up) I started to feel a range of nervousness anxiety excitement fear, this began with a little nervousness in my stomach, then in my diaphragm, then later in my chest, I would say at times it felt like the nervousness of stage fright, while at other times anxiety/emotional dysregulation, and other times like adrenaline, or even fear, at a certain point I had the thought "if this continues I will have a panic attack" and kind of found it intriguing. At one point, I recognized my right palm was sweating a lot. This period was such a subtle range that it is hard to describe thoughts or feelings. I was able to concentrate and laugh again at the show. I did not feel agitation or anger externally, but did feel it in my limbs, stomach, and chest, at different times. I also started to have to pee really bad. I did feel annoyed that she kept asking about the tension/ and my headache which had come on suddenly at some point and stayed but ranged in degree, it was almost entirely centered in the back of my head on the right, and through my neck and shoulder. It was not strong enough that it bothered me, but being continually reminded of it made me a little annoyed, when my attention was much more fixated on the rest of my body.
-at a certain point during this phase, I started feeling fine again, and she stopped it to adjust one of the sensors, and the moment she stopped it I had a spike of anxiety that ran through my whole body, and made feel really uncomfortable, plus more racing thoughts than I'd been experiencing all day. When it started again, I don't think that remained very long but I have forgotten the order. It was after the adjustment that I realized my left palm was sweating a lot and my right no longer was.

Near the end I started to feel more like I had at the beginning, only much less settled. At this point my stomach was still sort of nervous, and I felt like my legs NEEDED to be on the ground. Like I did not have control over this, and every moment that they were not on the ground I was losing focus (very similar to when I need to wash my hands). The closest I can describe to the last part of this is the end of a roller coaster when you are pulling in and know that it is done, but you're still feeling the adrenaline. My mind, body and emotions felt fine again except I felt creeped out. I felt a very strong need to be grounded, and was put off by the lack of control I had.
She briefly reminded me this was all normal and ok.

I went to the bathroom and felt a little better but on the ride home, I felt really unsettled still. One of the thoughts that was going through my head was that I shouldn't go on days when I am already feeling good, because I will leave feeling worse. I took a shower and felt much more calm. Decided to eat a salad, but after eating I was suddenly nauseous again. Ate some chocolate, felt a little better. Then went and walked around the lake (and tried to think through the experience). I really wanted to talk through it more, and also I have been craving sweets since being there.

Its unfortunate that I can't remember the order of the nervous/anxious part better. I had the distinct feeling of it being in my stomach, diaphragm and chest, and that they felt very different from each other, but that my body responded similarly like my limbs, or different parts of my limbs felt activated, and the headache stayed similar.

It really makes me want to learn more about the frequencies and compare to chakras and emotion/thought processes, because it felt soooooo out of my personal control.

Songs and Dreams

First of all, a side note. Really enjoying the Hadestown album by Anais Mitchell and presumably the cast. Is it a soundtrack? I dunno, but it's fun and a couple of the songs really get at some of those deep human things, and a couple others are just kind of beautiful poetics like the opening track "Wedding Song."

I was first introduced to Hadestown through Live From Here (Which is where I get all my music these days),  Anais sang "Why We Build the Wall" which is not about US politics, but she sang the songs by herself in interviews and performances at the time, and it took awhile to adjust to the cast. I'd like to see the performance, I imagine some visuals would make the other sounds make more sense. 

I read somewhere that some folks consider music a separate language of love. A way of sharing thoughts and feelings that can't be expressed through words or actions. It reminds me a lot that at the beginning of relationships I've had a lot of people try to share their favorite music with me. I wonder if this were acknowledged, whether some communication issues between folks could be worked out. Like "Hey, I know you can't explain right now, what's a song that comes to mind?"

I keep struggling to sleep. Stomach issues, and the air in my apartment. The way it gets dry before it snows. The way my humidifier doesn't seem to be doing enough. The thrashing. The Dreams. The cold and heat. I know I slept a lot last night and the night before, but I woke up continuously feeling like I hadn't. 

The other night I had a dream. I don't remember all the plot. I remember holding a heavy book, leather bound, precious. The book was clearly important, but it had been soaked. And I was holding it, not wanting to let it go, the promise of magic, or maybe I'd already attached to the story, but I was unable to open it again for fear that opening would cause the ink to run and smudge. The story would never get to be read, it would remain a mystery, or incomplete. I kept carrying it around wherever I went, asking people for help or hoping they would acknowledge it. 

My mom was in the dream, and she said something. I don't know if it was directly related or if it were  something that I applied to the book. But suddenly I was looking down and realizing that the damp book in my hands would have to be let go. Telling myself I could pick it up later, find a different addition, find something else to read. But in its current state, it would never do me any good. It was just an anchor in my hands holding me down, and it wasn't my burden to bear. 

Last night I had a number of strange dreams. I am not sure which are related or even what the order was anymore (maybe the first is actually the second one?) But they seemed significant.  

1) I was on the bus. The bus driver spoke another language and it seemed that everyone else did too. There was a major party happening in a park to our right. A festival really. I knew I was supposed to be chaperoning, and that my shift would begin soon, but the bus driver would not let me off the bus. Other people waited patiently, but I did not. I wasn't sure if they were going to drive ahead or just keep letting us off one at a time very slowly. The bus driver gave me no indication of anything, but would not allow me off. I kept looking out the window to the festival below, knowing that I was both responsible and missing a good time. I wondered how many buses were waiting in this queue. If there was some sort of capacity of the festival that they couldn't exceed, I wanted to shout at them that I had my place there, I was supposed to be there, I had a job to do! but they didn't care at all. And every moment that passed I felt like my life was being wasted. 

2) I was walking away from something. If I had to say, it was Cedar Manor my elementary school, and I was headed toward the sledding hill by myself. I know I hoped to join others there, the sort of trickling end of the festival?  I was determined to have my own fun regardless. 

On the way, I passed my older brother and another man. He was dressed as a security guard and somehow I knew he was working as a guard for the school (dressed more like a british police man). Two young african american boys were fighting. James and the other guard were trying to settle the manner, but focused on one of the boys while the other stomped off in a huff. I passed the boy who was stomping around, and could read on his face a desire to be attended to, but I was too busy going to my sledding hill, and wanted to trust that the others could handle it (not do their jobs for them). I turned to see the boy stomp back and kick my brother in the butt. I laughed. But when I looked back again, I saw my brother with a stick beating the boy mercilessly. And called out for him to stop. He stopped but did not look guilty.

I carried on to the sledding hill angrily. Determined to live my life and have a good time, but internally feeling betrayed and furious that he would do something like this. 

I continued to sled, going off jumps and generally being amazing (I was a star at sledding!) but was distracted the whole time. Eventually I went to the top of the hill and realized I'd have to play my part. 

3) I was searching through the rooms at the party, trying to have a good time, but also find something I had lost. A credit card? I kept bumping into people who I know vaguely (they were all from high school) and they wanted brief awkward updates on life, or rather, they wanted to be acknowledged, but quickly realized I was preoccupied with something else. Most would walk away with a look like they knew I was fooling myself, and they knew the joke, but I didn't.  

I continued to search and ran into my Brother. I was still furious, he said something along the lines of "You should see the bruise the kid left." but I asked where the kid was now, and he didn't know. I asked if it was possible the kid was still in the hospital, and he agreed that it might be so, but was still not feeling bad. I told him he was a monster (I am sure in different words), and walked away. He didn't seem to care, but I desperately hoped that he would have a change of heart. 

I continued to search the party, as the people disappeared and eventually the rooms were empty but I still couldn't find my credit card. 

The house was going to be raided by the police soon (drug deals), and the family that was hosting was getting nervous and wanted to be polite but also wanted everyone to leave (or at least fake it). I felt they should get in trouble, take responsibility for their own stuff, and each time I left a room I had that feeling that I knew the joke and they didn't.  Eventually we were all in a room, and someone had set up a video that played porn the moment you entered, but I knew there were children wandering around and turned it off (ruining their prank). I gathered a bunch of things, journals and stuff that seemed really helpful, but still couldn't find my credit card. People began asking me for the numbers (to steal from me), and I ignored them. Eventually I gave up, but also realized that it wasn't as big of a deal as I had thought, just disappointing to start over.

A desire to do my job, but forced into limbo, unable to communicate the importance of my moving forward. Caught in a line of others who seem to have patiently accepted their place, given some understanding that I don't seem to have. 

A desire to be care free, to have fun, to be a star, without the responsibility or distraction that always pulls me back.

The bully I was furious with that defended himself by hurting others, didn't seem to regret his actions, betraying his values.

A room full of people with a different agenda, none all that helpful, some directly opposed to my achieving what I am hoping to find. Most indifferent.

A credit card... a promised security that I have lost, collecting journals and my voice back, disappointment setting in, but a recognition that I can move forward without it? 

A friend reminded me the other day that one way of interpreting dreams is that each part is a part of yourself.  What part of me is waiting patiently, and what yearning to move forward?  Wants to have fun and be carefree, slide down the hill into stardom, but can't shake the internal, part of me that is a bully and another that stands up against it, part that is searching, another that is indifferent or holding me back.   

Dreams are fun. 

Throat Chakra Issues

I am watching Nicola talk about how fear keeps people trapped, and from speaking their truth, and I question, what fear is keeping me from speaking up?

I am aware of the messages I was told, that my words hurt, that they can't be trusted, that they weren't wanted.

During our relationship, the two songs that often played in my ear when things weren't going well were from Rent "I should tell you" the song between Mimi and Roger, and "Take me or leave me" the song between Maureen and Joanne, both songs talk about communication issues between the couples -being honest and open, appreciating/being appreciated and accepting a person as they are. Both are more about the characters own hang ups than the issue between them, but none of them can see that.

I am aware that I routinely subdued my own reactions because I understood her patterns, her relationships or lack of, understood why they were there and why they might be happening. I tried not to personalize these patterns, but inevitably by accommodating for her unhealthy patterns,  I wasn't listening to or speaking my own stuff.

After our relationship ended, I continued to do this, focusing on the patterns and intellectualizing the relationship rather than feeling the hurt/anger in my response. I felt abandoned, but said that it was for the better -which though true, was skipping over the difficult part where healing was needed.

I am aware that I felt my truth was dismissed, ignored, unheard. That my heart was not held. That when I asked for support or help, I was shamed for not being strong enough. That when I asked for what I needed, it was denied.

I am also aware that I decided that some things should be kept secret or private because they were safer. And that generally, I withheld talking about the difficult aspects of my relationship because I felt it would be disloyal.

Towards the end I withheld, didn't share, fell into my own secretive patterns, and in not being able to speak my truth, acted out.

I am aware that I often withheld judgments in the moment, because I was trying to appreciate all aspects of a situation.

Lately, the places I have been pained and hot, were not just in my heart, not just the nausea in my stomach, but a heat in my upper chest. Like I had something to get out, and instead it just fumed inside.

I have a need to say something, to assert myself honestly, but don't want to be hurtful. Don't want to recycle this pain back and forth. I want it to be healed.

I have found that writing, has been the best way of balancing myself, so even though it often feels negative, when I walk away from journaling, I feel less negative. My negative thinking and doubts, are so strong... and I need to consciously place them outside myself.

I feel better when I am living with integrity, and being honest with myself and others. But I don't want to act it out, I want to be able to express it.

Routinely during our relationship I saw her inability to speak, literal loss of words, repeating phrases and stories, not understanding, feeling too scared or angry to address things. She complained of pains, and pushed things away without addressing them. It became a reality of our relationship that we were avoiding her often unspoken fears.

This pattern is something I have felt numerous times, and I need to address it within my family, especially with my Dad, but then also my brothers and my mom. Then practice it in relationship.

Regain my voice and not be afraid of the rejection and loss, learn to not take it personally when it happens. Easier said than done.

Random Thoughts

Sometimes I get discouraged when I read a really good book, because I have so much work to do on mine. I am still struggling with point of view and accidentally dabbling in multiple POVS or going omniscient when I mean to be limited. It's difficult.


I just finished All the Light We Cannot See: which was recommended by a bunch of folks, and I liked it, but found it slow at first and felt it jumped between POV characters too quickly. I am not sure how I feel about the ending, it isn't hopeful, but it feels realistic. For a moment in the story, the stars align. But it does not end on that note, it goes back to being gritty and not magical at all. Even many of those moments when there could be an outpouring of emotion, are undermined with the reality of human subtlety, and our desire to escape anything that feels too real. We aren't characters in a movie with multiple heart-felt awakenings... just human. Afraid. Shy. Unaware how our behavior impacts others' stories.

The subtleties of "showing up" for people... what are we to do with that?  I wonder if I will ever feel I was enough, did the right thing, etc. It's funny how books like this remind me (referring to previous post) that to be human is to be flawed. The "good" die as easily as the "bad" and make the same mistakes along the way.

Sometimes I sit and wait. I wait for the next step in my life. I wait for the next thing to call me. I wait for an interruption. I wait for something fated. I feel like my life is getting back on track, but I keep expecting it to feel magical. Or hoping it will. But that isn't human. We are far more fragile,  more often met with tragedy than success, or at least just as often. My horoscope, fortune cookies and tarot readers love to share the good news, that my lucky star is just around the corner -You just have to believe, get out of the way, take the right step, notice the opportunity. I wonder if life is more about recognizing the blessings after the fact, and reminding yourself to say I love you, please, thank you at every opportunity so that you don't miss your chance. Victoria said she loved me (friendship) on the phone, and I said yeah, hit me up later.  My Dad called and said he couldn't hear me, and I said we'd talk later.  Maybe I am missing my lucky stars every single time. Not fully grasping the importance yet, and maybe the lesson will have to repeat until it strangles this lifetime and launches me into the next.

In a lot of the soul spiritual stuff, they say anything fated or karmic will offer itself again. You don't have to ask for their name and number, you're bound to bump into them again at some point if it is fated. But at some point, you do have to recognize that it is important. You don't have to make nice and heal if it is true, because you'll be give the opportunity again in this life or the next... but at some point you do.

People keep telling me I will have the opportunity:
I am no longer hopeful. That is what all the arguments are always about in my head... what do you do when you have the opportunity? Say I love you. Say thank you. Say You fucked up. Say I can't be with you. Acknowledge that my heart is still stirring and scarred. Simply say Hi? Say please come around again.

They say the cycle is complete. Stop holding on. It didn't mean what you thought it meant. And some part of me defends her still, lingers just a little longer in a familiar place. Stares a little longer in the crowds. Has difficulty not prying into the secret places.
It's always like this.

What does my mindfulness say?
What can feel to completion?
What can I observe with non-judgment?
What can I appreciate?

Better take care of yourself before your sugar drops too far. Thats the lesson.


Or as Nicola puts it "abundance or bare minimum?"

mindfulness? bodyfulness? feelingfulness?

One of the things I have been attempting to do is feel my feelings a little, experience them, be curious about them, where is it felt? how does it move?  It's a difficult practice to maintain, and more often than not, my mind takes over and fills in the gaps with arguments.

This morning I was reminded of a song/poem that calls me to appreciate the difficult, to acknowledge and accept the whirl of feelings without judgment.  I am angry, I am sad, I am enraged, I am loving, I am happy, I am content, I am hurt, I am confused, I am a mix of a million things that come in waves and leave the same way. 

It's interesting to me, because I have been struggling with guilt. Towards the end of our relationship I acted out, not in words, but in action, I acted selfishly in a way that I hadn't previously been. I began to put my desires ahead of hers, and I felt justified in it because I felt like she was pulling away from me and being dishonest, her own act of selfishness. The behavior is a pattern i've experienced before -early in my life especially. 
I became more of my hurt child self. I didn't know how to say I am hurting, when I knew I would not be comforted. I didn't know how to walk away. So I stayed, and became less my conscious self, less mature, less giving. And I have felt guilty about it ever since. Felt like I totally fucked up, felt ashamed, and guilty, and mean, and tried to justify and rationalize and blame. If I had been able to stand up for myself, or walk away, maybe things would have been different.
But I didn't choose those options. I reinforced my cycles. Recreated the karma. Potentially reinforced hers.

I've been trying to get more in tune with my own pain, to understand why I acted this way, and why I might continue to feel so out of touch with myself. But lately, it's just been more anger. I am so angry at being used, that I can't remember all the benefits of the relationship, can't remember why I chose and continued to choose this even though I knew it was perilous. I knew that I was risking my self, and I wanted the opportunity. The anger drowns out the other things. It makes me feel unsafe and not worthy. It sucks the fullness out of life. And I think it is because there is no where to put it that seems productive. I am not sure if anger is a thing you use up, or if dwelling in it just reinforces it. But I am sick of it. I would like some appreciation at the fullness of experience back.

I want to believe that I had this relationship (positives and negatives) for a reason, so that I could learn and grow and not repeat these mistakes next time... but I don't know. It zaps my confidence. I know that I need a partner who will do their part, but I am worried that I won't know how to find this unicorn. I am worried that I won't feel worthy of them.