sueeeus

I left, to save myself.

I didn’t stay, to protect them.

~*~*~*~

I read somewhere recently about human survival instinct, how a drowning man would pull you down to save himself.  It was a cautionary tale, not to advise against heroicism or altruism, but more to be aware of the tendency in some people to out-prioritize their own needs with others’ needs.  There can come a point where one is over-depleted and can no longer help others or themselves.  Don’t get to that point.  It could be a long journey back.

~*~*~*~

Right now, he is fighting for his life.  Maybe he’s not fighting.  Maybe he’s just in between right now.  He IS alive.  His heart is beating.  He hasn’t woken up.  Maybe it will be like a reboot, and things will just come back online soon.  That is my hope.

I keep waffling between my inner knowing and my outer doubting, through the certainty that he’s coming back, born again with important tales to tell of his time in between, in the allness, of being in the light and being the light.  He will be renewed and convicted and impassioned by the things he learned in his time away.  He will want to return, to share these important things with us!  And then the physically constrained thoughts surface, in the form of doubt and despair, that his physical body is overwhelmed, that he will decide he’s too tired to fight to come back.

Some of my siblings are assembling.  Those who can are on their way to be with him, in person.  I’m home.  I took the day off to be still and weave an entangled web of love through the ether joining with them, healing with them in the only way I know how to help right now.  I can’t go.  Not yet.  My physical self can’t be around them, where I will be faced with the outer doubting and crumble in the combined fear and sorrow and helplessness.  My internal self is with them, where I am strong, where I can draw from the energy of heaven, and build my strength, as I’m joined through the ether with them, weaving a golden web of light around us all.  Healing us.  Protecting us.  Nourishing us.  Warming us.  Strengthening us.  All of us.

~*~*~*~

So many of us, my siblings and I, seem out of phase with our physical selves, these vessels that contain us, like we are strangers in a strange land.  Foreigners.  These physical bodies seem so unfamiliar, like we just can’t seem to align our mental selves with our physical selves.  We are bewildered when we encounter health issues, surprised by their appearance, which is no surprise at all to those on the outside looking in.

~*~*~*~

An epiphany.  Wanting and needing so desperately to focus my thoughts and intents on him, this brother I barely know, finding my untamed thoughts constantly turning this into something about me, wrestling with the ensuing self-disgust, jolting my thoughts back.  What about them?  How terrified and shaken they must be, especially those closest in the lineup, those who grew up with him.  Recoiling at my self-absorptive ugliness forced me to think of them, to look at things through their eyes, and to have compassion for the turmoil of their shaken hearts in the face of this tragic uncertainty.  We have so many complex interrelationships with and amongst each other, some alliances, some factions, some solid, some fragile.  Through it all, we have a certain thread that bonds us all, something deep and internal.  How they need assurance and hope and comfort.  This I can do.  What they need, I can give.  This is where I am strong.  I tap into that thread and connect it to the mainline and let the love and healing flow.  We feel each other’s love, which isn’t constrained by time or space.  We are connected.  I send them strength, from the inside out.

~*~*~*~

I had to save myself, to help them.

It occurs to me that I am an emotional junkie.

Swimming in the music, flowing with the emotions of the music, channeling that artist’s emotions and the emotions of all the people who have been affected by the music, all that emotion flooding through me, washing through my everything.  I just sob and sob as tears stream down my face, and sometimes smile in the exquisiteness of this beautiful flow, no matter how painful. Breathing deep, deep, measured breaths, tears roll down. This heals me.

I do this again and again and again.  I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.  Feeling all the feels.

So I am an emotional junkie.

I’ve been trying to figure out when and where I got the notions for how a life should be lived.

For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a wife and mother. Certainly a mother, forever. I can always remember wanting to have children of my own. I don’t remember if the wife-and prefix always accompanied the -mother part.  Probably, because they went together.  People weren’t supposed to be mothers and not also wives.  That was a given, back then.  At some point, that particular notion solidified more, and my Plan A was to become a devoted housewife and stellar mom, and Plan B was to become a teacher, in case I needed another occupation, if a devoted husband didn’t come along.

In those bright eyed days, I knew that I could and would do a much better job at partnering and parenting than my parents did.  I was nice, after all.  I would be nice to my husband.  Therefore he would be nice to me.  We would be nice to each other.  We would like each other.  Anybody can get along if they’re kind. There would be children.  Of course there would be children!  Children are the most amazing things in the world!  They are fresh new people.  They like colors and sounds and shapes and feels.  They love to discover things, and there are new things to discover every day.  We would play.  We would laugh.  We would make things.  We would discover things.  We would learn things.  We would all like each other.  We would all be nice to each other.  We would all be comfortable with each other.  We would live happily together.  Happily ever after.

This is the part where the soundtrack cuts in and there’s a screech like the sound that a record needle makes as it’s dragged across an album abruptly.

I sure made a lot of grandiose assumptions back then.  I look at my boys and wonder what traumas I’m planting in them, in this revolution of the circle of life that we’re tumbling through right now.  That whole husband notion thing didn’t pan out very well.  Apparently there’s more needed than simple human kindness to keep a relationship afloat.  So far, I haven’t given them a childhood in which they get the benefit of a healthy father figure.  They get precious little interaction with their dad, and my heart breaks to think about what their hearts hope for, with him.  Because those are two more broken hearts to chalk up to the masses of children who grow up with parents who don’t know or care how to make their children feel loved.  As for the parade of men who have come and gone through their young lives, I only hope that they remember the fun times and that they never catch on that there was ever a competition in place, between them and those men, for my attention and affection.  As if there’s not enough for everyone.  Please.

I wonder how many men actually ever grow up.

The question that I think I’m trying to answer for myself is whether I truly want to be with someone, or if it’s a false notion.  I know that I need solitude, down time, quiet time, time to be in my head time, lost in my mind time, time to wash emotions through me time.  I think that maybe I don’t know how to be me around someone else, or maybe I don’t feel free to be me around someone else.  Or maybe I just  haven’t been with someone who really wanted to know me, what makes me tick and how I work.  I know that I  have been more lonely with someone than I’ve been when I’m alone.  Why this persistent yearning, this deep ache?  What is missing and why is it needed?

I think about the kinds of relationships that my kids will form when they’re older.  How will they treat others?  How will they be treated?  I haven’t been able to show them an example of a healthy adult couple.  I haven’t been able to give them the family life that I envisioned as a youth.

Instead of Plan A or Plan B, I’ve ended up following Plan C, in which I’ve spent a lifetime in a technical profession, devoted to my fellow working brothers and sisters, leery of the leadership.  Sort of parallels my childhood, now that I look at it this way.  I’ve given my work so much of me.  Sometimes I think I’ve given too much of me.

I think that I want to lead a simple life filled with simple pleasures like walks down country roads, smooth coffee, freshly baked bread, star gazing, cloud gazing, tree gazing.  Seems like nice things to do with the people you love.

I love how music and art carry fragments of the soul language that ties us all together.  I swim in it and my mind and body melt into the sound and we all become one, floating in the river of allness.  Emotions flow in and out and all around, and it’s a beautiful and healing immersion.

You ask me where did I fall — I’ll say I can’t tell you when.

But if my spirit is lost, how will I find what is near?  Don’t question, I’m not alone; Somehow I’ll find my way home.

My sun shall rise in the east, so shall my heart be at peace.  And if you’re asking me when, I’ll say it starts at the end.  You know your will to be free is matched with love, secretly.  And talk will alter your prayer.  Somehow you’ll find you are there!

Your friend is close by your side, and speaks in far ancient tongue.  A season’s wish will come true.  All seasons begin with you.  A world we all come from, one world –we melt into one!  Just hold my hand and we’re there!  Somehow we’re going somewhere!

–Jon & Vangelis

I sure love that song.  

I’ve been working on an inventory of words that describe aspects of my relationships, in order to help identify things. Needs. Boundaries. Expectations. That sort of thing. It started with a list of all the words that I could think of that could describe what I didn’t like about a particular relationship or even situation. While thinking of those, it brought to mind thoughts of what drew me into those particular relationships or situations, and a new list emerged. And as I was thinking of all of these things, a new set of words emerged. Words to describe what was missing.

The Bads and Uglies, in no particular order

unaffectionate, aloof, emotionally unavailable, arrogant, insecure, uncommunicative, irresponsible, undisciplined, exploitative, inexpressive, indecisive, sexist, incompetent, foolish, unintelligent, narrow-minded, critical, narcissist, pseudo-intellectual, fraud, liar, cheater, secretive, lazy, uncheerful, snarly, stubborn, brash, selfish, self-centered, impulsive, overbearing, self-absorbed, callous, insensitive, desperate, inconsiderate, competitive, judgmental, bigoted, religious, domineering, dis-compassionate, boring, uninteresting, uninspired, reckless, unmotivated, pessimistic, unambitious, cruel, abusive, abrasive, loud, controlling, drunk, dishonest, disorderly, impatient, codependent, contemptuous

The Goods, in no particular order

fun, smart, energetic, confident, enthusiastic, musical, creative, exotic, interesting, cultural, helpful, gourmet, playful, devoted, communicative, expressive, hard-working, strong, capable, sensual

The Missings, in no particular order

connection, competence, intimacy, affection, trust, laughter, joy, honesty, heart, spirit, empathy, kindness, grace, safety, intellect, compassion, openness, mirth, freedom

Something important that I discovered during this exercise is that for every bad and ugly on the list, I can recall instances in life where I have exhibited those attributes, attitudes, or behaviors. I am no saint, and I am human. All of these things help me to understand the importance of boundaries (which will hopefully help me to actually learn how to establish them), and of equal importance, the missing things to hold in focus as I continue to navigate through life.

Found in a notebook…

It’s July, It’s 2017. It’s a Tuesday night and I’ve had a stressful day and I’m unwinding. I wrote this:

Use your molecules wisely.

Spend your molecules wisely.

….Molecules….

YOUR Molecules

It’s what you’ve got. GOD gave them to you. This most inexplicable gift! Privilege!!! How are you going to honor them?

L I V E

Live it UP!!! LIFE is your gift!!! It’s what you’ve GOT! Rejoice in all things! Why not?! Why NOT?!!!???!!

<3

On my way to work, I thought about my core, my spirituality, my truth. I had to re-group, to re-think and re-consider the spiritual stance that I’ve been holding staunchly for all of these years. Ever since the time that I set in my heart to learn and to know. The phrase that captures my thoughts is ‘The Mystery of Being’. Thoughts about life. Existentialism…

If the earth is a closed system –physically, anyway– the matter within the gravity field and atmosphere remains somewhat constant. There is space and the cosmos, but for the bulk of the argument, it’s probably valid to consider earth as a closed system. So for physical laws, the matter of which living things are comprised is the same matter of which living things were comprised before us. Carbon’s anniversary. What are we made of? The molecules that comprise us belonged to someone else and something else before we got the privilege of vesseling them. So who am I? Not 24601… Maybe my molecules were part of a healer or an artist or a warrior. What if there is or are other dimensions beyond anything physically comprehensible, but just as visible for those who have eyes to see? What if who I am carries fragments of the spirits of those who have gone before me? Of course it’s easy to recognize remnants of those from whom I’ve come directly –genetics. But what about more? The matter that has existed for all the ages as we know them. My molecules could have been part of someone else. Not could. MUST. We are carbon based! Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. But our spirit! Our soul! What if the fragments are part of universal one-ness? That’s redundant, but I don’t know how else to say it. DMT -The Spirit Molecule… This substance that is a part of all living things. A common thread. And the enlightenment that is revealed when a human is exposed.

I think about the meaning of life. What’s the point? Maybe there’s no point. It’s a gift and a privilege we’ve been given. Do with it what we want, while we have it. Joy. Or don’t rejoice or embrace it. But it’s ours to live. So why not live it the way we want? We get to choose everything. We do what we do for whatever reason we do it. It’s all good. There’s no need for stress. Today is today. I will live it the best way that I can. I will do what I can do, and when I can’t do anything more or anything else, then I will stop, and that is okay.

July 26, 2019.  Miracles and magic.  What a mind boggling tangle of events and circumstances and decisions that took place over a span of who knows how many years, in order for yesterday to happen.  We had a fare thee well lunch get together for a coworker who is taking his family on a world-wide home-schooling cultural immersion experience for the year, which itself is a marvelous thing to do!  My heart stirs with delight (or maybe jealousy) at the thought of the richness of such an experience, and all the new perspectives they will take in, that they might never know otherwise.  How rich!!

It’s always nice to have a social moment with my coworkers, and it was a beautiful sunny day.  We have such a crushing workload that it’s a special treat to take a break at all, let alone gather to dine in a quaint courtyard beer garden.  The luncheon organizer so thoughtfully invited former coworkers to join us, for which I am so grateful.  It felt like a grand reunion, seeing those shining smiling faces of people who are part of my work family.  My former boss!

As we gather, in walks another familiar face, coincidentally out for lunch.  Another former coworker, this one a retired senior manager.  And then, not far behind him, another retired senior manager.  Such commotion of greetings and what brings you heres and how have you beens.  Embraces!  I hugged them all, all three of my former managers.  They were all sun tanned and vibrant, clearly happy in their respective retirements.  These were my people, my family, from my former organization where we worked so closely for over 20 years.  It was wonderfully energizing to see them.  Coincidences – the two are friends and get together socially — they’re both so fit, I envision them playing raquetball or squash or tennis, then having lunch at a beer garden.  Also, my new boss was there, and it was the first time he met the old boss.  I whispered to my coworker nearby, meet the new boss, not the same as the old boss…     …..my old boss is a saint.  I miss him.

And another coworker coincidentally knew one of the senior managers through a soccer connection, years ago, when their children were young.  It was quite something, the mix of old and new, and it was sort of neat to see in my periphery the India team smiling and observing our greetings.  It gave them a glimpse at our history.  It felt good to share a different and personal perspective with them.

Our Padawan made an appearance. He strode in, a cloud of static whirling about him, and mingled brusquely.  We’ve lost him to the dark side, our young Vader.  It’s a sad thing to have watched unfold, through the years.  The junctures could have just as readily been convergent, as divergent.  I attribute it to the blindness that ego produces.  Maybe I could have affected the outcome, if I’d have been more involved in his development.  I might have seen the junctures approaching and guided him gently in the direction of convergence.  I’m stretched in too many directions to be able to attend to everything. We’re all adult professionals and as such are expected to be professionally cooperative.  He’s alienated himself from many of us, by now. It’s a shame. He has so much energy and ability; he could be so productive, he could contribute much.  He just can’t see the forest for the trees.  It’s sad.

Traffic was wretched, perhaps even more than usual, but I was energized from being with my people.

I tried to connect with J on the way home, since I was going past her place, but she was on the road too.  We are both pressed for time, orchestrating our every movement so that we can somehow manage to do all that we have to do for our families, our homes, and our livelihoods.  Life is a scramble for us and I treasure our friendship.  We’re sort of in the same boat, in many ways.  Single and self reliant full time working moms.  There was a construction detour and I ended up taking an alternate route that reminded me to stop by Goodwill and look for a kitten harness necessary to  help keep my man child’s 6 week old kitten safe and alive during our upcoming camping trip, and lo and behold, guess what I found?  Yep, new in package XXS, perfect made to order harness.  Exactly what I needed, plus a short scratching post and fishnet, also exactly what I needed.  All for 10 bucks shy.

The heavens poured blessings upon blessings on me.  What a day!  I felt so good, so energized.

The world looked different to me.  I noticed it while standing in my kitchen, then wandered out to the deck and looked around, and returned indoors to gaze about some more.  If I could find an analogy to describe how it looked different, the best I can do for now is a transparency slider.  It was as though the slider was moved to fully visible, whereas it was formerly some percentage obscured, like through a film.  Through a glass darkly.  Everything seemed more solid, more clear, more real.  In contrast to my ‘normal’ view where it’s like everything is behind a screen filled with a murky water-like substance, filtered.

I thought that this must be what it feels like to feel human, and to feel normal.  I thought that might be what most people feel like, how they see the world.  Solid, physical, real, safe. The act of just being felt effortless and sustainable. It was a good feeling.

It didn’t last long, alas, but I am glad to have experienced that glimpse, to have tasted that clarity.

It’s interesting, how the brain works.  We have sensors all over us, collecting information.  Every single tiny peach fuzzy hair is transmitting information, all the time.   Our eyes are taking in a panorama, again as a constant feed.  The amount of information being processed is beyond dizzying, to comprehend.  Sometimes, if I go deep into meditative thought, I can actively focus on a particular feel, like the gentle whisper of breeze on the fine peach fuzzy hairs on my face.  It feels the way an ocean floor scene looks, with the kelp swaying in the currents of the water.  It’s a beautiful thing.  Most of the time my brain filters the bulk of inputs from my active awareness.  Otherwise, it would probably feel like chaos, with extreme information overload.  It would probably be overwhelming.

I am noticing changes to my awareness of visual sensory inputs.  I can sit for long periods of time, gazing, processing thoughts.  It’s sort of trance-like.  Eyes open, deep in thought.  I am aware of my periphery — all around me are collections of colors and shapes and lights.  My thoughts run deep and there are things I want to remember, to capture, as I breathe in, breathe out, and stare into the space around me.  I consider writing them down.  I want to write them down, but the thought of looking at a screen fills me with dread.  Something about the false light of the screen.  I can hardly bear the thought of it, let alone the sight of it.  So I avoid it, and hope that I will retain the important connections I’ve sorted out.

I wonder if the emotional impact of the way I process visual information is in part related to the physical changes in vision as I age.  I am very frustrated with the loss of focus in my near field vision, and it seems that I am becoming more frustrated as time goes on, rather than simply adjusting to life with bifocals.

First world problems, for heaven’s sake.  Nevertheless, I am finding myself easily overwhelmed, at this stage in life.  It seems that perhaps my natural automatic behind the scene sensory processing filters are wearing out, just like my eyes, so my brain is being inundated with more peripheral awareness than it’s accustomed to.

I’m operating like a machine that is not well oiled.  The gears are sticking, and everything takes more effort.  It feels like the traffic on my commute.  My physical, mental, and emotional processes feel like too many cars at too many speeds, weaving in and out of lanes, getting jammed, having collisions.  I can hardly bear to drive.

My beautiful friend, the Resonant German, gently observed that I haven’t written on this blog for a full year.  It’s not that I have nothing to process — if only!   In the interest of mental housekeeping, I’ve taken a step back from non-critical media, which includes social media, and most media.  I might have gone a bit too far, since I missed daylight savings time and sent my man-child to the bus stop an hour early last Monday.  It’s already another Monday and I’ve just found this article hanging around in my drafts — another Monday and I’m working on pulling myself together to face another span of days.

This time of year immerses me in waves of emotions, my own and those I absorb from others, and I’m feeling depleted.  I’m on the same quest for understanding, but there is such a sense of urgency now.  I’m watching my kids grow up so quickly and I don’t have the answers I want and need to share with them, to prepare them for life.  I’m surrounded by friends and family in need of guidance, comfort, strength, and encouragement.  I want to help.

My spiritual foundation has been rocked recently, which I didn’t think was possible. I’m regrouping and getting my bearings, and I know –I KNOW– that I’m on the horizon of a breakthrough in understanding.

With horror, I see signs of depression manifesting in my beautiful gentle giant BB, and I haven’t learned for my self how to stay above it.  With two successful –successful is SO NOT the right word — suicides in the family, and a host of mental health challenges, it’s hard not to panic or feel helpless.

What’s that saying about a fine line between genius and insanity?  There are so many incredible people in my family –such staggering intelligence,  creativity, and talent. Maybe the brain gets frazzled from all that high power activity, and we go crazy. That’s a wry take on the yin-yang balance. Maybe insanity is the price one pays for genius.

What IS sane, anyway? It’s probably an attribute that applies to a statistical average of human population.

let there be light – photo credit to the Resonant German

Depression is an ugly beast.  It’s incomprehensible.  It is vile.  A trap.  It is a vile trap.  And it’s an experiential thing that others who haven’t tasted it can even begin to understand.  You want to be reached, but you don’t know how to let yourself be reached, because you’re trapped, in the dark.  You want to be helped, but you don’t know how to let yourself be helped, because you’re trapped, in the dark.  You want to live, but you don’t know how to let yourself live, because you’re trapped, in the dark,  where you’re running out of air and you can no longer breathe.

Sometimes, it’s too late.

There aren’t any do overs.

LIFE IS SO FRAGILE!!!!!

Life is such a beautiful and precious thing.  We all get it, a gift, without asking.  It’s so random, who we are, where we ended up when we entered this world and took our first breath.  We got what we got.  Nobody asks to be a Star Bellied Sneetch.  Or a North Going Zax.  We just are who we are.  Why is it so hard to just be?

I AM SO ANGRY!!!!!

I am angry because I am helpless.  And because it’s too late.

There were signals that drifted to me and through me from across the universe, but I didn’t pay enough attention, or I didn’t understand.  I reached out, but not far enough.  In retrospect, it’s as though her spirit was crying out from the place where she was trapped and otherwise unable to call for help, and those were the messages that drifted to me.  Because I have been thinking of her.  I wish I had reached her.  Maybe, just maybe, it would have made a difference.

So yes, I am angry.  Not at her, not at myself.  I am angry with the ugly beast, and I want to wage war against it.  I want to tell everyone I see, everyone I know, everyone at all, that THEY MATTER.  I don’t know where it comes from or how it happens, this despicable beast called mental illness, but I will battle it any way that I can.  I want to pierce the darkness that any part of any person might be trapped in.  Because that’s all it is.  A trap.  A dark, despicable trap.  The con of the ages.  I want to blast it apart with nuclear force and set it ablaze with the brightest of lights so that the preciousness of who they are is evident, that their life is treasure, and that I am privileged to be someone with whom they share breath.  I want to infuse hope and vigor, to spark enthusiasm and joy.

Who can ever truly know what’s going on within another?  How many people do we know who are suffering inside, wrestling with incomprehensible things?  What if we were to take a moment to just say hi, or smile.  An unexpected greeting can disrupt the grip of the ugly beast, and it only takes a little light to break the darkness.  It could save a life.

My heart is broken for her, for our family, for everyone.  Her anguish is over, but in its place is a heavy blanket of sorrow and new anguish in the hearts of those who love her, those who need her.  It’s a shame.  A complete and terrible and horrible shame.  A beautiful, vibrant, strong, loving, courageous, intelligent, capable, talented, and amazing person with so much to live for has been tricked out of her own life.  Nobody saw it coming, so nobody was there to help.  Nobody could help.  It’s a tragic deja vu.  History has repeated itself, and I wish I had been paying better attention.

I’m holding my children tight, taking extra moments to make sure that they know they matter, they are important, they are wanted, they are loved.  I’m listening more.  I’m sending out my love.  To everyone.  Because everyone matters.