Where I Am

Well, it's a new year. People are making new resolutions or goals or intentions. We have to remember to write a new year on our checks and letters. And my mind is still back six or seven months and I'm wondering how it got to be 2013 so fast.

Last year was a better year than the year before, even though I had less employment. I made a huge amount of progress mentally and emotionally and I began exercising regularly. This bodes well for 2013. 

I'm becoming better at making new habits and sticking with them, except when holidays get in the way. And I doubt I'm going anywhere for a long trip this year until Christmas (unless I'm in Seattle, then I'll take a trip elsewhere). It's being out of my own environment that makes it harder to keep up with the exercising. I don't have the same space set up and I want to spend lots of time with my hosts, so I don't generally do exercise while away. But with even more time before the next major trip, maybe I'll have the exercise thing so efficient that I can do it anywhere!

I am more content with myself and where I am. Even though there are still some areas of clutter and I'm not terribly fond of my apartment, I am grounded, centered, and at home. I am becoming more myself and am very much less self-conscious. Even though I am anxious about finding work and making money, I'm still aware that I've come very far and that where I am now internally is fabulous. Where I am externally is acceptable; I'm not sure if I will find a fabulous external, but acceptable is fine. I believe that when I am doing work I enjoy with people I enjoy working with, my external will ramp up to much better than acceptable.

I have terrific tools now to help me deal with life and my issues and I'm getting quite good at using them. I have a terrific therapist (who I would be sorry to leave). I am learning important life skills (finally) and it's all paying off. Hell, I have a whole pint of Haagen Dazs ice cream in the freezer that I bought on the way home from lunch and haven't dug into yet. I'm not hungry, and in the past, that wouldn't have stopped me. I've made progress on all fronts (except my fear of driving in ice and snow).

As my t-shirt says, "Life is Good." In 2013, it's just going to get better.

Where are you now?

Holiday Quiet

I'm in the living room at my friend's house and it's almost entirely silent. Girl child went to a friend's house. Boy child and dad went to boy child's bagpipe lesson. Mom is taking a nap. And the animals appear to be napping as well. I feel entirely alone and at peace with the lit Christmas tree and the mantel lights and the Santas and nutcrackers and snowmen.

It's been a wonderful holiday so far. Knowing that I am wanted makes me light up inside, even though I am tired (my hips hit right at the middle bar on the cot and I am unused to being around people 24/7). It's gray outside and quite cold and has rained off and on, but I'm handling it. (The silk long underwear helps a lot!)

It is nice being in places that are familiar and knowing that I could get around on my own fairly easily (in spite of all the changes here and there over the past 12 1/2 years). 

The fact that it's in the 70s in Houston is a nice thought, but the extreme heat started there so early this year and has continued so late. I stayed indoors much of this past year because of stress and because I was afraid the weather would hurt me. 

I have been afraid that the local cold weather would hurt me, too, but today, with my silks on underneath my jeans and my thin fleece pullover, with wool-blend socks on my feet and my wool winter coat covering me from shoulder to mid-thigh, with my gloves on my hands, I managed a family walk down the hill to Starbucks and the walk back up the hill and was actually feeling warm before we got to the house. So the cold weather has made me feel cold when I was slightly underdressed, but it has not hurt me. (But I might feel differently if it were snowy or icy.)

I'm feeling peaceful right now. I don't feel the need to make any decisions or to rationalize any potential decisions to myself or others. I am simply relaxing on the couch, drinking hot tea with milk, and typing on my laptop.

I have been having so much fun, have been talking and laughing a great deal, and have listened and observed, all with great joy and contentment. Now I feel the contentment of the peace and quiet of this lull in the holiday and my visit.

Regarding thoughts of moving to Seattle, my friends have assured me they would have or make time for me in their lives. They miss me and would love to have me move back here, as long as I was happy. This is very comforting. I still have a lot of thinking to do, and a lot of research into jobs and rents etc., and a lot of talking with my therapist. But I feel better able to be able to judge the Seattle side of the equation.

Now I think I'm going to watch the lights of the tree and feel the warmth of the encompassing happiness my hosts have shown over having me share this holiday with them.

I hope your holidays were joyous and warm as well.

The Hard Ones

Nope, this post is not by Tawna Fenske and I haven't taken to writing innuendo on my blog (although if I had her mind and her talent I totally would).

This post is about the hard decisions and how to make them. It's specifically about one decision that has come to completely occupy my mind.

I've become more and more compelled lately to consider whether to stay in Houston or move back to Seattle. There are so many things to consider and the two places are so different that trying to decide how to decide has been making me crazy. So I brought it up in therapy today.

I've been considering this decision casually for much of the year, but wasn't serious because my therapy and my therapist have been too important to me to let go. But as I have begun meeting goals and getting increasingly more healthy, the decision has begun to take on weight.

One of what I consider the downsides to being single is when I have to or choose to make big decisions. I like being able to choose a paint color for a room on my own, but it would be nice to have someone to share in the big decisions, someone who had a stake in the decision, someone to bounce ideas back and forth with, and someone for backup. A decision like where to live is huge and hard to make on my own. So I think it will be a topic of conversation in therapy, as well as how to make big decisions in general, for the next several sessions (which won't start again until January).

Just to start with, my therapist proposed I start thinking about what nourishes me most. Is it sunlight and warmth, or is it relationships? Can I adapt to the cold and dark again to be close to good friends, or can I live with the possibility of not having such close friends where I live yet can grow citrus trees in my backyard, when I get a backyard? Either place I live, I will need more friends and will have to approach finding them intentionally. I do have some good friends up north, but they cannot do it all for me; I'll need a few more to meet my socialization needs, but the ones I find in the north can be more casual types of friends while down here in Houston I'd still be looking for close friends with whom I can spend significant time together.

I think I've had a bit more focused anxiety worrying over wanting to make this decision. I have a stomach ache and have had one since we started talking about it in therapy. But I need to remind myself of what my therapist said at the end of the session. Whichever place I choose, I'll be able to adapt and be happy. I have developed my center within myself, and contentment with myself outside of what my environment is like. So this decision isn't a matter of which place is the "right" place for me; neither is a right decision or a wrong decision. 

Whichever place I choose to live in, I will be fine and content. I will be at home.

Thinking On My Center

The last part in my getting centered discussion with my therapist is the part that cognitive therapy has played, which is significant. As we discussed, I have tended to make other people or situations my center, my anchor, and my home, rather than making me be those things for myself.

On the cognitive side, I developed an external locus of control. I didn't learn young how to depend upon myself in a good way; I only learned the ways I couldn't depend upon others. Yet they still remained the loci from which all things came to me. But my therapist reminded me that we had in discussions come across things I have done in the past and present that showed me growing more independent from my family and standing on my own two feet. So her question to me was: what have I accomplished that proves to me that I am self-reliant and independent?

Being self-reliant and independent gives a person a center, an internal locus of control, and a firm place to ground themselves. Proving to myself that I have those qualities would go a long way toward helping me see that I have a center inside myself, just that it's been hidden and it may be undeveloped. It would prove that I am grounded at least a bit, no matter how high above the ground my feet feel.

So what have I done that proves self-reliance and independence? Well, for one thing, I left my family and moved halfway across the country. Part of my moving was to find work and a warm place to live. The other part was to cut the ties that had come to bind me to my family more closely than I was comfortable with. (I still feel guilty about that, as if I rejected my mom and grandma. I hope that goes away.) I relied upon myself to make the trip and find a new home successfully. I visited some other friends and family but didn't rely upon them for anything more than some company and a place to stay while I visited them. And I eventually found a warm place to live. The work part, not so much yet, but I continue to hope and to work on it. I kept driving until I found a reasonable place to look for work, even though I was ready to stop moving along at three weeks (it was five weeks before I stopped in Houston and another week before I decided to stay). I made these decisions alone.

On A Philosophical Note

One thing I used to do, for several years, was read part of one of a set of philosophical books at bedtime, the way some people read from their religious books, just a little bit of reminding me how to live well before I went to sleep. The three books are It's Easier Than You Think: The Buddhist Way to Happiness by Sylvia Boorstein, The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh, and Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. Zen Buddhism and Stoic Philosophy readings on a regular basis somehow helped me feel calmer and more centered. 

Then, for some unknown reason, I stopped reading them. Either I let the books be packed and so didn't have them at hand after I moved to Oregon, or I just got out of the habit, but somehow I stopped. And I think that stopping that bedtime habit left a little hole in my calmness and my center.

When I remember to think about being mindful, or when I remember something I read and try to apply it to whatever I'm going through, I feel a little better. But because I don't read these books regularly anymore, I don't remember to apply them to my life very often.

For example, the Buddha taught that struggling causes suffering. If you struggle against something that you cannot change, you will feel added pain — the pain of suffering. If you struggle against something you can change but you don't try to change it or accept it, you will suffer. I spent the better part of two years struggling against the fact that my mother died and that she died at a time when she was finally free to do things that she wanted to do. Telling myself it wasn't fair is struggling. Not accepting the fact that she was dead is struggling. It is partly grief, too, but I think I made it worse by clinging to these struggles and clinging to my grief. When I began to read the Boorstein book again this summer, I was reminded not to cling. I was reminded not to struggle against what I cannot change. Those struggles have nearly disappeared now, partly from time and cognitive therapy and partly from reading one of my books and being reminded.

A Spiritual Center

One of the questions my therapist asked me when we were talking about my finding a center and becoming grounded in myself was how people with a deity-based spirituality use their god(s) or goddess(es) as their center. Their feeling of something that is eternal, that will always be there with them and for them is what their spirituality and their spirit revolves around. But I don't believe in deities, so she wondered how my spiritual beliefs could have a centering or grounding effect for me.

I had to think about it, because I hadn't thought about it in awhile. Then I realized: connection. I believe that all things are connected, and I am connected to all things, including rocks and trees and the sofa I'd like to replace and the clothing that is too small for me and the people in the world I've never met and will never meet. I also believe that all things and beings are just as important as all other things and beings, in the larger scheme of Life. In this way, all things and beings are the Center of the Universe.

And the force that is Life itself is as close as I come to a deity in my spiritual beliefs, and it is the main force in the Universe other than the Universe itself. So it is something that I can count on being there for as long as the Universe exists, which is forever as much as anything is.

Remembering my connection to everything, and everything's connection to me, can help me be centered and grounded, no matter where I am. Because, no matter where I am, I am connected to who and what is near me. We all are part of Life and the Universe.

Maybe I need a physical reminder of these connections and what connects us, a ring or a bracelet or something. Perhaps meditating on these connections would help me keep them in mind. Whatever I choose to do, I know it will help me maintain part of my centeredness and groundedness.

The other parts that my therapist and I talked about were my philosophical beliefs and the cognitive therapeutic actions I've been learning. I'll discuss them separately later.

For now, though, do you feel that your spiritual beliefs ground and center you? How so?

The Center of All Things

Today's therapy became very philosophical. A post of mine appeared on the What EveryBetty Said blog today and it was about the concept of all things being transitory. This led to my thinking about how I lost my anchor and my center when my mom died because she was those things to me. Then I wondered if maybe I'm making my BFF into those things in her place, and if I should pull back a little bit.

My therapist saw things differently. She's listened to me talk about the Zen Buddhist and Stoic philosophies that I read on and her take was about risk and needing to risk pain and the negative emotions (think in terms of the negative space on a graph) in order to have the possibility of joy and love and the full range of positive emotions (the upper, positive part of a graph). That what I really need is to create my center, my anchor, within myself, not pull back from people so I don't risk pain.

There are a lot of reasons why my center is not within myself. My parents did not raise me to be self-sufficient. In fact, my father — a cop — taught my mother to handle a gun and my little brother to handle a gun, but did not teach me. I was warned away from tools and ladders and other "dangerous" things because I "might get hurt." I was sheltered and protected, at least as they saw it (they didn't protect me from being molested) and pretty much expected to marry someone who would continue to take care of me. Even though my mother worked outside of the home and she made equal decisions with my father and was in no way submissive or second to him. It was all very weird — I saw that even as a kid. So I didn't develop an interior locus of control or a sense of self-confidence in the face of difficulty.

Next, well, are the traumas in my life. Molestation. Bullying. Then losing my father, then my brother before I was 22. I held onto my mother with both metaphorical hands and all my might: she was the reason I chose not to take my own life after my brother took his and I could barely cope: I felt a responsibility to my mom to not put her through that again. So she was my reason for living for a very long time. She anchored me to this life.

One of the biggest problems I've had since Mom died was this lack of a center or an anchor, a lack of being grounded. My therapist proposed that this is what I work on. Be my own center so that I can embrace those I love without leaning on them so that if they go away I won't fall over. Be grounded on my own feet so that passing traumas cannot knock me over. Be able to still love and care with a whole heart, without crumbling should I lose who I love.

The concept is a simple one, sure, but not easy for me to achieve. It's spiritual: what in my non-deitific life gives me a spiritual center? It's cognitive: what have I accomplished that proves to me that I am self-reliant and independent? It even touches that part of me that is kinesthetic in nature: not leaning, standing on my own feet, etc., like a Weeble ("Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall DOWN!")

I'll address these aspects of centeredness and my life in later posts (or this one is going to be far too long; besides, then I'll have ready-made ideas for later posts). Right now, I'd like to know, do you feel centered and grounded within yourself? What does or does not give you that sense?

Home

What and where is home? Much has been written about it: Home is where you hang your hat, home is that place where they have to take you in, home is where the heart is.

For me, I guess it was the last one. The problem being that my heart was with my mother. She was also my center and my anchor (this goes back to my lack of self-differentiation from her). So when she died, there went home, center, and anchor. 

I could pretend that I had a home when I went to visit the house and check it out. I called it "my house." But although I still felt very comfortable there, it was empty besides me.

What about Houston? you might ask. Well, I like it well enough (although the early high temperatures this year are not making me any happier than the flooding this winter). But I don't have friends to do things with much. I have some commitment issues, so my heart isn't really here.

Getting Un-Lost

Previously I wrote about how I lost my way and wandered away from the philosophies, beliefs, and practices that gave me balance and a center and serenity.

Since I wrote that, I bought a couple books on simplicity by the writer I most like. And at night before I go to bed, I use one of them plus the Boorstein and Aurelius books as inspiration books. I flip the pages back and forth and open them randomly to some page and section, then read it and ponder how they relate to my life right now and how I can use them to live better and more true to myself. 

I think they've been helping. Aurelius reminds me that the past is the past and that we choose our responses. Boorstein reminds me how to have an expansive mind that encompasses all of life and living. St. James reminds me to remember that I need less than I think I do, that what I have is enough. They feel like family who are reminding me of who I am and what I know.

I feel lighter. Yes, I got weepy about Mom a couple of times this past week, but that's okay. Grief takes time. What I'm finding is that some of the anger and resentment (mostly toward the Universe) is leaching away. And I found something I'd missed: Hatred. A shocking depth of hatred toward the Universe for taking my mom away from me and leaving me alone.That's definitely an issue to work on because I believe that hatred poisons the hater, and I don't need that.

I think I'm finding my way again. I feel more centered and more grounded. I look forward to when I look in the mirror at some point and say "Ah. There you are!"