faith and works and other thoughts

listening to a podcast (in sight, episode 5) I had a discovery about myself.

Helen has this to say about perfectionism in adults who were parentified and raised by a narcissist. as a child, when we are criticized, it can form a toxic form of perfectionism. "As long as I don't do anything to invoke their ire, I am safe." this perfectionism became my protection, and I worked tirelessly from early ages to maintain that status. as I became a teenager, it became more difficult. I went to great lengths to do what I wanted - smoke, drink, drugs, boys, risky behavior - I once jumped on the back of a stranger's bullet bike at 12:30 am after dancing at the palace all night and let him drive me home - while also curating a careful image that none in my FOO would be able to see through. I had a few cracks, but mostly they were covered over with careful wording and fast thinking on my part.

The pressure of those early misbehaviors to stay perfect ended when I got married, but the image curation still remained, only it became a protection of my FOC. I acted as a door to my family to block any criticism of them, or even hint of criticism. because I knew that criticism would come, I didn't allow mixing to happen. I would then do acts - works - that in my mind added up to "good Becky." as long as I kept doing the things that maintained my image, I felt I could "store up blessings" that later would balance the scale in my favor when I finally fucked up (which I knew I would, and therapy brought those events to fruition) to keep my FOO from rejecting me.

Back to the podcast - when criticism comes to me as as an adult with the context of being a parentified enmeshed person in my FOO, my curation of toxic perfectionism forces me to see their criticism of my behavior as a rejection of my whole self. "if you comment and criticize that I talked to c, it means to me that you don't like ME - you reject me and all the "works" I've done to pad the scale for the time when just such a situation happens.

It's a toxic form of doings that will show that "I am good" and I'm "earning blessings" that will offset the scale later.

It's not bad that I've done the good things I have. My bigger intentions have been good - to create relationships with those I love in my FOO, and I was blessed by those interactions. But I cannot expect total acceptance when I cross others' boundaries. there is a dance that one must do, and total perfectionism cannot be maintained, and should never even have been the goal. But because I had a perfectionistic mother, I also worked to be perfect and I was bound to fail. I set myself up to fail; so did my mom (by both setting herself and me up to fail) and I failed to understand that others in my FOO may have had other reactions and did other works that I am not aware of and are not my business to guess at or blanket apply my logic to theirs.

I cannot ever preemptively do enough for others to outweigh/offset/negate the pain I cause them. There is no storehouse of events for me to draw on in a moment of hurt that I can hold up and say - look, all THIS trumps THAT. There is no math that allows me to claim exemption and avoid looking at the pain others have felt because of me. Which also means that if others hurt me, I don't have to minimize that pain because of what I deem their "scorecard" is stacked against me - everything kind that has been done by them which my inner critic notes as a tickmark so that I feel disempowered to say when something hurts me but I don't have the right to feel hurt, nor to speak the words that say ouch.

What I learn from this - rejection of a behavior isn't rejection of my self. There is no "good person" narrative for me to fall back on if and when others share their experiences with me regarding painful things I do or have done to them. 

One of the most damaging phrases is "you could have just XXX." This phrase is an opportunity for miscommunication on both sides of the phrase, both the one saying it and the one receiving it. Circling back to state how a person could have acted puts the already hurting person who did XX into a defensive mode. When S said - you could have just moved on and let it go - I got defensive because I didn't like her reframing how my reaction to the FB post "could" have been. She doesn't know what pain it caused me. I still think she was crossing boundaries by saying anything to me bc the situation didn't involve her at all, but she was the one who policed it. but I do understand that she would protect her family. But she chose her tactic - call out the behavior and provide a solution that would work for HER  - which put  me on the defensive.

If a person asks for feedback, the phrase can be helpful, but without consent and using this phrase in the confrontation stage of communication will fail, it seems. 

My FOO doesn't have a jesus for us all to appeal to. Mom might have been that, but she was the one who trained me to behave how I did, so she's part of the problem while also being viewed as the savior. 

When shit hits the fan, as it has over the past 18 months, I found that there is no magical court set up for me in the pattern of the final judgement. I thought the following could be relied on.

• Desires of my heart - which I felt were obvious enough - "I'm a good person who...." 
• Works - actions I did in the real world for others - also "I'm a good person who..."
• I "stored" them up, doing everything I could to add as many pluses as possible in the good column of the magical volume entitiled "IS Becky a good person" 
• I had a sense of "faith" in the protection that the pluses would void a future minus
• in in the moment of "transgression", the score of the two columns can be tallied, betting on my perception that the pluses weigh more than minuses, and that there are far more pluses in my favor - because CLEARLY XXX mean that I'm good, don't you remember that? 
• I count on "grace" to step in, to help me explain the minus
• remind others of the past to further balance the scale toward myself ("haven't I..." "don't I" "What about when...")
• I can claim the pluses outweigh the minuses
• I have a space to exist where I feel blameless, washed in some redemptive power outside myself
• I feel justified to say that the other who was hurt is just being "too sensitive." I can talk about this to others who will help me scapegoat the one who was offended, helping to assure me I don't deserve to be treated thus, to be forced to see my role someone else's pain

My treasure trove failed. The past can't and won't override my "offence." My pain doesn't weigh more than others, and my kindness doesn't relieve me from responsibility. But I also can't use my own calculus of points I give others in their "good" columns when they are kind to me against myself to feel unworthy to call out pain others cause me.

I have to accept that my actions will hurt others. I have to accept that I will be hurt by others. I cannot expect my works to circumvent those situations, either by me not feeling worthy to feel hurt over something, nor cancelling the idea that someone else can't be hurt by me. The family dialogue around claiming one person or another is "such a victim" is a family habit of shaming those who point out the disfunction and then we scapegoat that person. The indirect communication, the constant use of subtext to interpret and then attempt to correct offenders and keep family members in line.

My perfectionism tells me that even as I add those pluses to my tally, they won't be enough. I know I'm in debt before I even start, but I want to fall back on them so badly. I so badly want those works to mean I'm lovable. I'm unwilling to admit my pain bc I feel unworthy. but I need to realize that my pluses only mean something to ME. no one else knows my intentions behind the things I do. it won't mean the same when I hold it up later to say, "SEE? Look here and remember. I'm good!" I'm begging them to allow me to have a sense that I'm good, rather than believing it myself, and realizing as much as I can make people happy, I can also hurt. It goes both ways.

I need to stop equating criticism of my behavior to total rejection of me as a person. When I do that, I add insult to injury and make myself out to the be ultimate victim in the situation, rather than realizing that I am human, I mess up, I will hurt others and need to be aware of that. In doing that, I become a barrier to any  healing that might happen. Taking responsibility is hard. Speaking up when hurt is hard. but I believe I can learn to do both.

notes/quotes from podcast

adult child - this happened - parent take responsibility/account/ownership. defenses go up. x happened, parent: reaction matters. don't minimize, "xx had it worse"). child of narc - neurotic perfectionism. if i'm not perfect, it means i'm the worse person in the whole wide world, can apply to our parenting. child - I don't like it. we see it as a rejection of whole self instead of the situation, can reject the child. allow room for imperfection - it's acceptable. when they say - I don't like that, it doesn't mean I don't like you. it's not you that they are rejecting. but affect of having a narc parent is we learn the learned behaviors to create safety. getting to a place where self acceptance mistakes as anything other than a mistake. when they see their mistakes as an absolute confirmation of everything they've been told that they are vs being told you are allowed mistakes, you are only human, it's going to happen, but podcasters say - we will say I'm sorry. 

reflect on our impact - what impact did I have

compassion for our mistakes vs eating ourselves up for our misdeeds, taking responsibility.

podcaster - my friend is laughing with me about my mistakes. if i was unhealed, I might take it and be shamed or embarrassed 

boundary setting could be seen as anger and rejection when those items were used as punishment from earlier relationships. emotional control could be implied when boundaries are set. walls vs boundary

abuses create walls. is there a door? (helen) boundaries are rigidly flexible and walls are inflexible. see my edges then I can see where their edges are and I hold on to me. blurred edges are confusing - fault assigning 

Practicing with Pickles

 I didn't start telling my story until the #metoo movement started.

One Thursday in 2016, I created a fake twitter profile so I could say what happened in 140 characters or less. I then proceeded to have a day long panic attack, told one friend virtually, another in person, and most importantly, admitted the details to my husband at long last.

Even then I couldn't say the name.

Trump and his years in office were rough. After my mom died and I realized I needed to realign the solar system I was in to center myself and my own family, I found myself needing therapy, so I went. The work started when I started talking to my therapist about my tendency to get into "pickles" as a teenager.

A pickle is when you send your friends home with your truck and stay at a guy's brother's house with him, then have to figure out how to get home from the next town over on a Sunday morning without your parents figuring it out. Said guy has no responsibility to help you, but your friends answer the phone in the morning and come get you.

A pickle is when you figure out you have a UTI and need to go to the doctor, but also can't admit you are sexually active to your mother, so you go to the doctor and try to take care of it without insurance and prying parental eyes. It fails, and they won't see you, but luckily that time, your mother didn't ask too many questions, or the most accurate one. Your are both relieved and a bit sad, but you are ready with a lie, just in case. 

Or the pickle that comes when you "confess" and "repent" of what happened that led to the UTI. Because you can't decide if one led to the other, and the Lagoon guy who was involved blurred all the lines.

A pickle is when you have yeast infections your junior year of high but you can't tell anyone anything about your body so you just steal whatever you can find from the bathroom cabinet and suffer in silence, unable to talk to anyone who might tell you that it's the acne medication that you take regularly that's doing it.

A pickle is when you rush home in the morning from your almost-husband's place so that when your mom calls in the reasonable hours of 8:30-11am,  you are right where you should be, or at least it looks that way.

And the biggest pickle. Which wasn't really a pickle, but became one because I couldn't deal with it and I didn't think I needed help with it. So I managed the pickle by controlling specific situations without analysis or consideration of their fucked-upedness then left in the dark immediately. It's not something I will spell out. Because even though it's my story, I still feel unqualified to tell it here or anywhere for anyone to see. If you know this pickle, it's because I've told you. And if you know and I or certain other sources haven't told you, that's not on me, and I cannot vouch for what you think it was.

In summary: pickles are the positions you (I!) get yourself into over and over that are normal, age-appropriate behaviors. Since you were conditioned that anything other than Staying Out of Any and All Trouble TM as well as Dating the Perfect Guy TM (who you can never ever meet, because you are you) is necessary for your survival and continued membership in your family, you encounter pickles regularly that you have to get yourself out of, all without revealing too much, admitting that you need help, or letting anyone in your family know.

In November 2020, I said the name. And it really did result in all I had long feared. Kind of. But I realized that the loss I had thought it would be was inaccurate, and that I could handle those consequences, however painful and long term. My solar system was finally correctly aligned, and those who I orbit with already knew or believed me without question.

Nothing happens in a vacuum. It took me almost 30 years to start this path. I thought I could keep it in, and believe me, I tried. Shoving it down in my late 30s. I still remember the day it almost came out; the sun blazing through my kitchen windows, my throwing the words over my shoulder without making eye contact that "stuff happened to me." Thinking to myself on my run later that nigh about how close it came to coming out and thinking I could keep it down in the depths forever.

I equally believed last summer I could work on not telling. What I didn't realize is that all that truth telling in therapy, all that hard work to try to accept my own reality and not downplay it would result in the inability to not say "yes" if the name was said. When your defenses are gone and you finally give a shit about yourself, you don't save someone else. You save yourself.

So now I practice when I think I'm called to tell. And with each telling to a trusted person who can hold space for me, it gets easier. And for each telling for those who can't hold space, and will excuse other's behavior or just not understand, I encounter the reality that not everyone will understand, and I try to have compassion. 

Tell your story. If you don't think you can, find a way. 

Third Quarter Covid 19

It's the 9th month of Covid 19. Seems like it's time to make a few lists!

World Events

1. JOE BIDEN defeated Trump. A few times, actually. There have been a few recounts in a few states that just keep yielding more votes for Biden. Can't wait for Trump to leave in 50 days. 
2. I wore every bracelet I own for good energy for Biden on election day. We spent election night at soccer practice, watching the returns for Trump looking like he would do it again. We left soccer and drove home in silence, the weight of the idea of 4 more years under the inanity nearly overwhelming me. We got home and the TV returns were more promising. I watched the states all turn towards Biden as the week went on - Arizona, Georgia, and Pennsylvania. The red mirage faded! Then Saturday morning that the Pennsylvania lead got statistically unbeatable - they called it for Biden as we watched MSNBC. It was a wonderful, joyous moment! 
   
   
   
   
   
   
3. The US elected a woman for Vice President.
4. We also continue to have no strategy for the Covid pandemic, no assistance from the government to feed or help house those who have lost their income because of Covid, nor a plan to keep us all safe until the vaccines come later this month.
5. There are 2 vaccines that will arrive this month.

Halloween and Thanksgiving recap

1. Other than decorating for Halloween, there wasn't any celebration of it this year.
2. We spent the late afternoon/early evening at soccer practice (we were preparing to go to Las Vegas for a tournament that eventually got cancelled). We didn't have any trick or treaters, which was sad. We spent the evening watching TV.
3. The day after Halloween we put up our trees. They got decorated a week later. The decor was a bit schizophrenic until after Thanksgiving when all the decorations changed from Halloween/Harvest/Christmas to all Christmas.
4. I've decorated 4 trees. I keep buying mini ones at Target, along with ornaments that make me feel joyous. There's a tiny one I put upstairs with mom's fairy decorations and some cute stuffed animal ones I got at Target.
   
   
   
5. Thanksgiving was quiet. Vonnay visited for a few minutes on Wednesday. I made rolls and 3 pies (lemon meringue, pecan, and pumpkin) on Thanksgiving Eve
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
6. I messaged with a few friends in the morning. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and then our wonderful next door neighbors brought over a little pumpkin cake and a center piece. Their generosity pulled me out of my gloom and I had a great day!
7. Shane and I ran a 5k around the neighborhood/Lodestone Park
8. We ate around 4:30. Thomas claimed the rolls were like candy. We all tried the yams. I tried the fruit salad. Boys refused to eat the beans. I enjoyed Vonnay's cranberry relish.
9. We ate pie around 8, still so stuffed we could hardly stand it
10. 
11. Reminisced a bit about last year, when we ate together at the buffet in Las Vegas. That was a treasured memory, funny as that sounds. I was glad to not do the drive, but I wanted to travel again this year, especially with how weird everything is with my family

Therapy updates (these are mostly vague intentionally)

1. Had some eye opening appointments, one about bullies in my life. 
2. I'm trying to find the grey spaces in my life. Some of the characters in the black are ones that I want to move to the grey space, where I can take what they do less personally and just wish them well
3. I did the thing I never thought I would. It was as ugly as I worried it would be. Still figuring out what to do in the aftermath, but it's a relief in almost all the ways, but weighs on me/fucks with my head a lot still.
4. Had the appointment about the salt, and the cliff that can't hurt me with its shadow. Salt has savor and in small doses makes life sweeter
5. I'm trying to remember to walk in line with my people in the rich dark vibrant tropical landscape with the volcano in the distance

Books I've been reading/listening to

1. Magic Lessons - Alice Hoffman - Loved it so much
2. 19th Wife - was ok. It was fun to read with Cindy and Rebecca
3. Harry Potter #1
4. Disloyal
5. Melania and Me
6. Caste
7. Cassandra Speaks

Things we've done in pandemic quarter 3

1. 2 Trips to Desolation trail to snow hike with all of us and the dog. I love these little hikes, even though there hasn't been much snow.
   
2. Dinner with Eugenia and Fred
3. Soccer practices at Real Academy
4. State cup tournament in North Salt Lake - Ben had some great goals
5. Library opened for in-person visits
6. Fabric store visits were mostly for Halloween fabric. I finished the mini quilts for Janna, Cindy, Rebecca, and Camie. I got most of the Halloween panel quilt put together. A few masks. Want to make some tree skirts for the mini trees. 
7. Thomas grew a beard for No Shave November, and finished his Math 1050 class!
   
   
   
8. Ben started making chicken during his almost-all-of-November online school experience.
9. I got my laptop and 2nd screen for WFH. So much more efficient! 
   
10. Spent a day in the office - so strange to be there. I left my little acorn tops from 2019 for the end of the pandemic/return to work.
    
11. Got to order Skirt Sports stuff again! 
12. Bucket got her cyst cut off. She looks so much better!

Places we've been eating

1. Zao (one will open soon in Jordan Landing)
2. Noodles and Company
   
3. Rumbi (on Thursday nights with Ben driving)
4. JCWs in Herriman - I'm a sucker for their turkey avocado
5. Costa Vida - the delicious chili verde returned in October/November
6. Buffalo Wild Wings a few times
7. Jersey Mikes

Workout stuff

1. Need to do more Yoga
2. Speed/intervals on Sundays on the big treadmills are my favorite, followed by a cooldown 10 minute run and some strength by the mirrors
   
3. 
   Ran a few times on Grizzly Way in the leaves.
4. Remembered how much I love watching Willow get a bite of snow when it's snowy and we are running together
5. Am really enjoying the Peloton app. it's been my companion since almost day 1 of the pandemic

Thoughts on trauma, with a story

I'm risking a bunch by writing this post. Trauma warning - child sexual assault

When I was 7, I broke my elbow. I had been to my mom's work that day, and I grabbed a tiny plastic bag with the emblem of her employer. My mom and I went together to a nearby park, and I begged to stay at the playground while she went across the street for some lunch. Not long after she left, I decided to go across the monkey bars with the bag on my hand. I made it 2 rungs - once the hand that had the bag on it gripped the bar, I immediately fell on the sand, breaking my left elbow pretty badly. At the hospital, the doctor on call set my arm and we went on our way. He ended up being a great orthopedic doctor and surgeon and so we stuck with him for a few years after my break.

A few months or years after I broke the arm, I had something going on with my back. I don't remember it being a big deal, just that my mom made me an appointment and we went to see the doctor who fixed my arm. By this time we knew him well. I later broke my other elbow, and he treated that as well (but I'm not sure where that fits into this timeline). The doctor was a big jovial person. He had thinning red hair and talked fast and jokingly. My mom and he got along well.

So I went in to see if anything was wrong with my back. And that required an xray. I left my mom with a male tech and went into the xray room. I had to get up on the table. I still had my underwear on, but I'm not sure about a shirt. I just know that the tech had me take my underwear down, which was appropriate for the xray, and seemed normal (I had had more xrays by this time in my life than I could count. My clubfoot surgery the prior year had fixed a problem I'd been born with and so many xrays were taken of my foot. Plus add in the broken elbow from the year or two before and - xrays were old hat to me.) Once my underwear were down though, he touched me inappropriately and then asked if it "felt good." I said no and he stopped. But I was frozen on the table, waiting for the xray, and so I had to hold still in the same position as when he had touched me for the xray. My body memorized that feeling of frozen, of holding my body so still so I could have the back xray done, and that tension became something that I still find myself doing even today when my body encounters stress.

There were two parts to the event in the room that couldn't have been longer than 7 minutes. There was the part when he touched me and the part when he xrayed my back. They may as well be two different days or appointments for how disconnected they are.

I put my clothes back on and walked back in the room where my mom and the jovial world class surgeon were. I didn't have any space to tell her, so I never did.

 The first time I said out loud that this had happened was in about 1994 when I told my best friend Cindy. And then I never told another person until the 2016 election when the Access Hollywood tape came out and the whole world was talking about sexual assault. At that time, I created a generic Twitter profile and wrote that this had happened to me, along with 2 other incidents. That gave me the courage to tell my husband later in the day about my "Me Too" experiences.

I'm going to therapy currently in my life. My therapist is wonderful and is using EMDR techniques to help me get to a better version of myself. I have been telling her about this experience for a while, but a few appointments ago we got to an amazing level of memory with this event. I realized how mad I was that the doctor was already in the room when I got back from the xray. I realized how I felt crowded out and there wasn't space for me, even though it was MY appointment. I don't know if I had the level of trust with my mom at that point in my life that I would have told if the room had been empty of the doctor's presence, but maybe I would have. 

What I do know is that thanks to that appointment, I have now dislodged the block in my energy that this event caused, but like a boulder that crumbles and allows long held back waters to flow. The energy that was held in my body, the frozenness that I felt after the assault (I couldn't have called it that then, but I will now) was released.

Bodies have memories stored in them. I've known that a long time. But now I've processed that memory and the energy is clearing through.

Trauma can be healed. For me, I've realized that I can say I am healed/healing when I can put a beginning, middle, and end to the story. I didn't know that 3 weeks ago. But I do now. Another "me too" event has also been given a beginning, middle, and end as well. It is a relief.

My thoughts right now are saying many things to me, mostly - you shouldn't put this here. No one needs to read this, keep it to yourself. It's not "that bad" what happened to you, after all person A had X happen to her. It happened so long ago, it doesn't matter. Don't be dramatic.

But those are the things that kept me from telling.

Fuck that (sorry, that's two posts in a row using the F word.)

Tell your story. Tell your husband or wife or therapist or your sister or your mom or all of the above. If you want to, put your story on your blog or write it in a 100 long tweet thread, or buy a journal and write it all out.

Don't make excuses that your story doesn't matter.

Find some way to put a beginning, a middle, and an end to it.

If you can't, that's ok.

Just do your work. DO YOUR WORK. When the time is right. Be brave and take the step. The money won't matter. It will take time. But your fucking life matters and you deserve to own your stories.

I am so grateful to be right here. I have an endgame for therapy and I know what I want that Becky to look like. But I like the person that Becky is right now, too. She is all I have, and I'll stay with her.

Re-entry: What I bring verses what I take away

“Hello! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…is there anyone at home?” Pink Floyd – Comfortably Numb

It’s been a very long time since I’ve blogged. I don’t feel bad about that, other than I wish I’d been able to document the past year better. Although I write a little every day on a calendar journal I have, I don’t always capture the whole picture, be it little things that are too many words to write longhand, or the normal things (for right now) that I think will always be the same so why mention, or big things that just are too much to capture at night when I’m tired and I just want a few minutes more to spend in a book.

In July, we went to Hawaii. I’ve been wanting to do a big trip this summer to commemorate our family before it “changes” and we landed there. I don’t know what else to say about that, other than it was wonderful, horrible, frustrating, gorgeous, memorable, busy, heartbreaking, and spiritual all at once.

I had thought we would go to Europe this summer. All I wanted last year was to take my family to London. I was pissed I couldn’t do that, not actively angry, but just mad at life that it wasn’t possible. Then late in June a friend from elementary school shared pics from her Hawaiian vacation and I knew I needed to go there. Her photo shoot of her family on the beach, of zip lining on the north shore, of ringing a bell at a Buddhist temple called to me so strongly. So I brazenly copied her and yet had my very own Hawaiian vacation.

What drew me most was a place called Byodo-In Temple. It’s a replica of a 900 year Buddhist temple in Kyoto, Japan. It’s also a place that many Buddhists have chosen for their cremains. When were there, my family got to enter the space where the cremains are held and it was one of the most impactful events I’ve ever had. It was powerful there. It was spiritual in a way I don’t want to define with words. I felt the peace there and I realized how in trying to find balance, I’m actually experiencing unbalance.

After we walked through the sanctuary, we wandered the grounds and I kept thinking the same thing – My Qi is off. I don’t even know really what Qi is, I just knew that in stopping attendance to the Mormon church over the past 10 months, I’ve lost my spiritual practice. While I have every intention of meditating (my current connection to quiet and spirit) I rarely meditate. I think – I should do that. But I also say that about reading more, sewing, making dinner every night, reaching out to family, doing yoga. You name it, I’m actively saying I should do it and then staying busy so I don’t have to.

The death of my mom hit me upside the head in a way I didn’t ever know it would. It’s not about the realities of grief but more about the absolute feeling of aloneness, of orphanness. I know I’m not alone – but the loss of both parents untethers you from more things than your childhood home and whose in-laws you eat Thanksgiving with. There’s no longer a singular person – or pair of persons – who have to love you. There are only so many mementos you can stuff your house with, only so many rings you can wear on your fingers, blankets to drape over couches and rocking chairs, Barbie dolls to stuff in bins for future grandchildren hands to play with until you realize:

Nothing has value. Except relationships.

At first I wanted all the things. I brought them home and put them in places, some temporary, some permanent. I sobbed the day I brought home my grandma’s end table and lamps. Sobbed hard in my closet on a freshly washed afagan my mom had made. Because the only damn reason that table and those lamps would be in my house is if my mom was dead, and my dad was dead, which means my grandma and grandpa are dead too. Their deadness however long doesn’t matter because the lamps are in my damn house now. They are all gone and one day someone else will get them and I’ll be dead too.

See, nothing has value. It stays, and the owner goes. My relationship to those lamps – and their owners – means more than the lamps. And that doesn’t translate, no matter how long they are in my house, no matter who gets them after me.

As I walked in the sanctuary at Byodo-In, all I could think about was managing the barrage of spiritual feelings coming at me. My family could listen intently to the docent and notice the mementos behind the glass next to the cremains. Shane and the boys saw the Bud Light can behind the glass, I only tell the story of it being there and imagine it. But what I experienced was the potently charged air, the crowdedness of the empty hall and sanctuary, the close feeling. It didn’t scare me, it brought out feeling in a rush of tears. I remember the smell of the incense and the ringing of the singing bowl, my family all being there barefoot and sweaty in front of an altar.

When my mom died, I talked at her funeral about what we bring. “How do we show up in our lives, and our loved ones lives.” I followed that feeling throughout the clearing, cleaning, and selling of my mom’s house. I went to Hawaii to connect with her in a way I didn’t know I needed to. There was something left of her visit there from 1985 that still was there for me to pick up in 2019. Maybe it was in the sand at Waimea Beach. Maybe she’d left it somewhere on Kam Highway going to the North Shore. Maybe I didn’t find it at all, but drove past it and just smelled it on the wind. Suellen Was Here.

Now post-Hawaii, my talk has changed to “What do I take away?” Do I keep being hard on myself? Do I just keep doing what I’ve always done? Hiding my feelings. Pretending things don’t hurt. Waiting for the permission to live the life I want to live. What do I take away from knowing my qi is off? Do I blame my weight gain on it and eat some more potato chips? Yes, I do, some days. Others I really do meditate and then I feel like I have a gold star for effort and I’m “back on track.” I’m in a hurry to get *there* where I’ve learned all the things and am better for it, instead of patiently (and impatiently) making stabs at it, trying to figure out what works.

Introducing Spring, DBD, Holly, and the rest of the characters in my head

One of my favorite podcasts is 10% Happier with Dan Harris. I've listened to most of the podcasts; ok, maybe lately I've been behind because I can't stop listening to political podcasts (I'm looking at you, Rachel Maddow.)

The podcast today had Dan talking about an idea that I've liked for a while but not spent much time doing or paying attention to. When Dan gets distracted while meditating, he sometimes slips into common personality aspects that he's given real-life names to. The idea is that when we realize our brain is thinking the thoughts common to that character, we catch ourselves and come back to the present by naming them.

Anyway, based on Dan's advice, I'm going to devote this blog post to the different characters who often spend time in my mental ramblings. I'm going to attempt to name them, but I won't promise the names will stick. Maybe just identifying them will help me in some way to get myself out of the stories I often cast myself in.

Disclaimer 1: I promise, these are not evidence of any multiple personality disorder.
Disclaimer 2: These personalities might show a bit of my vulnerabilities, gulp.

• Spring. Spring comes around when I'm feeling particularly mother-earth-goddess-yoga-slash-meditation-instructor-y. She wants to be one with the earth and think that she can rise above all the problems if she just remembers that All! Things! Are! Impermanent! She narrates when I'm very, very content, or trying to Just Be With The Universe. Sometimes she's natural, sometimes she's forced. She's not a super common visitor, but she's always wanting to get her .02 cents in. Or just her sunshiny outlook, because Money Doesn't Matter to Spring so she doesn't have .02 cents.
• DBD. DBD is when I'm working something out with certain family members in my head. She is always undefended from other people's points, and she never wins. She pleads her case, citing examples of what she's done since birth that makes her not guilty of being a terrible person. DBD used to be really loud, and she would very often show up while driving. I can spend a lot of time lost in DBD's thoughts. I've made a lot effort to tell her to shut the efff up. But she's always there, waiting. DBD knows she is guilty of Everything.
• Writer McWriterson. This is the person who shows up mostly when I'm working something out in my life or mind, who thinks Everything She Has to Say is going to be important to society. She comes out most of the time when I'm walking in the tunnel beneath State Street on my way back from McDonalds. She can ALWAYS come up with the most profound blog posts, and they are really well written and flow and make the exact point that is important in my head. 
• Writer's Cousin, Photo McPhotoson, who takes the perfect photo. 
• Sister K. She is the Becky that both loves and resents religion. She's around a lot lately.
• Holly Hobby Lobby. She's the one who buys 2 or 3 extra fat quarters at the fabric store, and then also gets 3 more books that weren't on hold at the library 20 minutes later. She gives me grand visions of finishing my housework so I can sew followed by reading followed by deadheading the lilies outside followed by a nice walk or run followed by 20 minutes of meditation on the porch in the sun followed by making banana bread for the neighbor followed by listening to that awesome podcast while also singing loudly to all of the songs from my favorite bands followed by re-reading the Harry Potter series. And then, vacuuming takes forever because I keep taking breaks to look at my phone and I need another coffee before I sit down to sew, so....I never get my sewing machine out. and the rest of it was never happening to begin with.

I'm thinking six people to identify at first shot is pretty good. I'll try to notice when they stop by. Hopefully I can say hello, give them a lemon drop, and send them on their way.

Who is taking up space in your head?

Right Now Gratitude - Day 2

Strangely enough, as I get older, my kids are tending to as well. Gone are the days when I could get them in bed before 9 and have some time to watch a show that wasn't kid approved or friendly. A couple of years ago, we started watching Modern Family together, and it's become both a standby and a shorthand. Most of us can come up with a MF quote in almost any situation. But it's hard to find shows that we can all watch together.

For your viewing pleasure, enjoy one of my favorite scenes from Modern Family.

For today, my right now gratitude is the nights that Shane, Ben, and I sit together and watch a show together. If we start a show, then I'm more likely to get engaged and put down my phone for the duration, as opposed to watching reruns of HGTV where I don't. I love when we are all actively watching, and then at the end are excited to watch the next week.

This year, we've started watching two shows, Timeless and This is Us. And while Thomas is usually entertaining himself on his Xbox, Ben watches these with us. Timeless is pretty good; the writing isn't stellar, but the story is easy and, since it's about time travel, Ben really looks forward to it. This is Us might be a bit grown-up for Ben, but he's still game to watch it. It's the show that I look forward to watching most each week.

What shows do you watch? Are there any that you watch all together?

Right now gratitude, day 1

There are two things that I've been doing for the past few months that have made me happier. One has been Brene Brown's The Gifts of Imperfection e-course, and the other is Gretchen Rubin's Happier podcast. Since it's November and I traditionally do gratitude posts, I'm drawing on inspiration from both of those sources for my posts.

The last assignment I did in the e-course was a collage of moments that made me grateful. The idea behind it was that when life changes, it's not typically the big momentous things we miss. It's the little moments that make up our regular life that make it sweeter. I did a collage that included random things like the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that me, Ben and Shane have been eating lately for lunch, but is real life right now. So for my gratitudes this year, I want to highlight something that is happening or trending right now that brings me joy. Which all seems so much easier than trying to come up with something big and momentous. I mean, I'm grateful for those things too, but I don't want to be repetitive and feel stuck in what I can or can't say.

So for my first gratitude, I want to tell you about this quiz that I took thanks to the Happier podcast I listen to. It's called the 4 Tendencies quiz, and it's super awesome. According to Rubin, there are 4 combinations to how a person responds to internal and/or external motivations. By taking it, I realized that I'm mostly motivated by outside influences (Obliger). I sat with that for a few weeks, and then I had Shane take the quiz. I found out what I already suspected - that he's my polar opposite in motivation, meaning he's more motivated by internal factors (Questioner). It explains so much about both of us! It made the little light bulb over my head click on for so many different areas of our lives.

So today, even though it isn't earth-shattering or very newsworthy, I'm grateful to know myself a little better. I'm grateful to have a little insight into my marriage that might make things a little smoother.

For a little "right now" gratitude I want to include that I'm grateful that a mouth surgery Ben had today went well. My kids have cuspid teeth that get stuck in their jaws, so both of them have had to have them pulled down mechanically. I've been looking forward to getting this step over with so we are that much closer to being done with orthodontia. I'm also excited that I get to go to Thomas' cross country banquet tonight. He became a runner this year, and it's been so fun to watch. He worked really hard and I couldn't be prouder.

If you take the 4 Tendencies quiz, tell me what you are! I'd love to know.

Weakest link

Last week, I discovered 2 new-to-me podcasts. One was Malcolm Gladwell’s Revisionist History, where he takes an event that happened in the past and goes over it with a new angle, and Happier with Gretchen Rubin, where she talks about, amazingly enough, things you can do to be happier.

I’m happy to say that both podcasts have been very enjoyable and instrumental in me being happier, and in my seeing things from my own past with new eyes.

One of Malcolm Gladwell podcasts talked about soccer versus basketball, and how soccer can be viewed as a sport that the team is only as strong as its weakest player, whereas basketball is a strongest link sport that relies on the best player for its success. Gladwell applied this principle to large donations given to small universities versus giant wealthy universities (your Stanfords and Harvards) to see which would make the largest impact on both the university and the country as a whole. It was fascinating. It got me to think of my current life and the things I’m struggling with – mostly anxiety – in a light of the weakest link.

In August, I started food journaling. I know – it’s super, super sexy to journal all the food I eat! But late in the summer, I looked back and realized that I’d felt mostly shitty in the morning for months and months. It wasn’t anything that was easy to identify or point to as particularly upsetting, but most of the feelings that I tended to blame on anxiety – i.e., bad drives to work, dizzy feelings, a sense of unease, lack of emotional reserves – happened when I failed to eat early enough and/or drank caffeine on an empty stomach. Then, in August when my favorite oatmeal flavor was mysteriously and permanently gone from the shelves and I tried to eat something different for breakfast on the days I went to work, I had some really bad mornings. As I was blaming anything that felt strange on anxiety, I tried to pin two events that happened at work on it as well, but I wasn’t successful. Anxiety just wasn’t the culprit, although it didn’t hesitate in roaring into the limelight during both. So I decided to write down everything I ate, being totally honest and not worrying about the calories or judging my food choices to see if there was a link.

Eureka!

After about a week, I changed two habits – one, my years-old habit of waiting to eat breakfast until after I got to work to eating before work, and two, bringing snacks to work to have between meals. Now, it doesn’t seem like this would be a life-changing event, but it kind of was. Eating before driving to work kept me calmer in the moments that I’ve trained myself to feel anxiety on the road. Having snacks in the mid-morning and in the afternoon allowed me to eat lunch later and not be a raving b**** the moment I walked in the door after work. I even changed another habit of drinking hot chocolate first thing on an empty stomach to eating something small first – an egg or a string cheese or going whole-hog and eating all my breakfast and then topping it off with hot chocolate. Again, such a small change, but I found it made things better.

Eating (and blood sugar) is my weak link. I’m following Gladwell’s example and looking back to see patterns. I realized that so often, the times I get completely overwhelmed or freak out at my kids or husband or get angry for no reason or get emotional at a family function, I’ve usually waited too long to eat. It sounds so dumb. But if you know me or have been around me much in the past 5 or so years, you probably know what I’m talking about. I can have all the best intentions to keep my emotions under control, I can exercise to keep my stress level good, I can speak my feelings instead of thinking about them or pushing them away, I can meditate until my eyes change color – but it all, and I mean ALL, goes out the window when my blood sugar dips. I get hangry. Weak link gets me every time.

Anyone who might be reading this: I cannot tell you how much this helps. In the past year, when I’ve felt betrayed by my body at every turn, when I’ve felt my anxiety get every bit of limelight, when I’ve tried to find out why, why, why do I feel like an alien in my body – to have something that is easy to control that helps me manage is nothing short of amazing.

I know that it doesn’t solve everything. Just today while driving on the freeway where there was a ton of traffic and construction, I got anxious and had to pull off on an exit. But I dealt with it. I talked myself down and got my breathing under control and drove in a circle to get back on the freeway I’d just exited and finished my drive to work. I was kind to myself and wrote myself a note when I got to work and decided that it wasn’t a big deal and that I didn’t need to make any more of it than it was. All of the positive habits I’ve built up over the past year – remembering to breathe, being kinder to myself, taking a break if I need it, and then getting back on that horse – worked, because my weakest link wasn’t a factor. I doubt things would have gone as well if I’d been hungry. I'm so grateful and excited that I've figured this out.

Weakest links. They are important. Do you know what yours is? Do you have one? Tell me if you think this could be a good discovery for you, too.

Sunday night thoughts

One of the afternoons when we were in San Diego last month, Ben and I went to the beach at high tide. It was the first time I can ever remember being there at the exact time of high tide. We were playing out in the waves like we always did, but it was crazy. The waves were deeper and they came so much faster than we were used to. After diving into a wave, it was necessary to come up as soon as possible and get sure footing and look to see what was coming. The few times we didn't do this we were knocked off balance, or went under without meaning to. It was a lot of hard work, and I got tired really soon.

I've thought a lot about the ebb and flow of life in the past years. When I taught Sunday School a few years ago, I would talk about it with our class. I always thought that the hard times in my life were when the water was ebbing: I felt thin, I felt bereft, I felt that I was far away and that life was in slow motion. But that day on the beach when the waves came one after another and I had to be so diligent (diving, getting my feet under me, coming up, looking out for the next wave) I realized that for now, the hard time is a flow. The waves are fast and I can't always see what is coming or understand what to do with it once I see it.

Here are a couple of the waves that are coming at me.

Church these days - it's hard. I'm in a loop right now where I'm really ok with everything to do with God and Jesus, but my testimony of other things is struggling. There are things I can't say "I know" about anymore. But I'm okay with that.

I remember a few months ago I was talking with a friend who is in my ward who has gone through a lot of hard things, and now she is a lot less active than she used to be. She said one of the hardest things about being at church in her new life is how fragile people treat her, as if at the slightest word or look will cause her to leave the church forever.

I loved that she told me that. It helped me to realize that in my own current struggle, I don't want to be treated like I am fragile. I also don't want to act fragile in my struggle. I want to boldly admit that I don't know all that I used to know. But I want to say just as boldly that I still want God in my life and I vehemently want to believe that I'm still loved by Him and even think that he probably understands me a little and even knew that I would feel this way and struggle like this. I want to feel worthy of that love and I want to declare to the wonderful young women that I work with (and the older women too, and the boys, and well, everyone!) that they are worthy too.

I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving or wanting to leave. But I'm also not the same person I used to be. It's been hard but rewarding to go through this time. I have more empathy for others who struggle. I'm more likely to voice my doubts in a meeting than I used to be, even if I worry that my comment will make me look "less faithful" than I would have wanted to appear in the past. It's a process.


Anxiety. Remember when Harry Potter went into Gringotts Bank at the end of Deathly Hallows and how he had Griphook on his back, whispering what to do to get past the Goblin security? Well, I feel like my anxiety is like Griphook, except it's only him under the invisibility cloak. People can see me, and some people can see Griphook, but most just feel him on my back and wonder what is making my shoulders so tense and my walk so unsure and unsteady. (hmm, I started this post out with a wave analogy. I'm easily distracted!)

I go through times when I don't think about it at all, and others when it's all I ever think about. I have a lot more days that are good, which is a big relief. But some moments I feel like I will never stop over thinking every tiny body sensation, or analyzing everything I do to see if it's a connection to it. I've made some good connections lately - I've realized how much my emotions are tied to how long it's been since I've eaten, and that staying really hydrated is a must. Which are two good things to know regardless of whether I'm anxious or not. I need to take care of my body and know what it needs so that it can take care of me. I'm also trying to not be so hard on myself when I am anxious or just having a hard time. I want to get to a place where I accept that it is part of my life, a part that I didn't really want or ask for, but that I can live with.

Those are two of the biggest waves I'm paying attention too. There are others but I'm not wanting to go into much else tonight. I'm actually in a pretty damn good place even with these things. I'm liking who I am and feeling that even if I don't have all the answers, I can do this.

Are you watching the waves come in? Are you in ebb or flow when the tough times start?