Balancing Act

I'm sitting by a fireplace, flames dancing exquisitely.  In front of me there is a splendidly decorated Christmas tree full of colorful lights, surrounded by a functioning electric train. Holiday music plays at just the perfect volume throughout the house on the speaker system. The sun is setting, and the street is lined with luminaries waiting to be lit at 6:00 p.m.  Boxes are stacked beside me waiting to be wrapped.  I have a small piece of dark salty chocolate and a glass of wine calling to me on the end table. It's like I stepped right into Mayberry.

 It's perfect. Almost.

I'm sitting here alone.  Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my alone time.  But tonight it's bittersweet. Tonight I'm working through all the emotions of missing my kids on Christmas Eve. They are with their father, eight houses down the street.

We are divorced, and on most days I handle this fact just fine.  I don't miss him at all. But my family being together, that's a whole other ball game.

I go back and forth between being fine with the situation to gut wrenching agony. And the hardest part is I don't always see the emotional switch coming.

I'm here in Philly for a week so I could squeeze in extra time with my big kids over their short winter break. It's been wonderful.  I'll take any extra minute with the kids that I can get.  I'm blessed to be able to travel up here.  Blessed to have such wonderful friends on my old street that welcome me into their home anytime I'm here.  Blessed to have such amazing children with whom I enjoy spending time.

I have so much to be grateful for, and I do not want to minimalize that or take it for granted.  And when I feel sad about my family being split apart, I almost feel guilty because so many have it so much worse.

But the sadness is there, and I do not want to pretend that it doesn't exist. 

I'm working on finding the balance between gratitude and honestly admitting my feelings of loss, sadness, and anger.

I do not like those feelings.  I want them to go away and leave me alone.  I do not want to be angry at my ex for making the choices he made to end our marriage and thus separating me from my kids half of the holidays. But along with the sadness and loss there is anger.

Anger is exhausting to me. It's not something I dwell upon, but as I sit and pay attention I notice that it shows up.

The whirlwind of love, excitement, joy, and gratitude swirled in with sadness, loss, anger, and frustration makes for a mess of my mindfulness meditation.

I'm not sure how to properly deal with all of it, so tonight I chose to write and share.  These are my feelings.  This is my heart: broken, beating, full, tired, teary, happy, grateful, and aware.

I'm learning to breathe through all of it.  I'm learning that my heart keeps beating. I'm learning that I must recognize and honor all the feelings. I'm learning balance. I'm not good at it, but I'm learning.

I'm

I'm back in my hometown.  I've been living back in east Texas for 5 months now.  I'm adjusting.  Only having my youngest living with me (my teenagers are in Philly) has been quite different.  I went from being a full time mom of three kiddos to daily parenting just one.  I cannot adequately put into words just how it feels to have my family split apart, but I'm breathing through the process and working on mindfully recognizing all the feels and making sure I fully appreciate the happy moments while not ignoring the sads.

My body is still recovering from the stress of the Divorce Years. That's what I'm calling the four years from my ex's initial declaration that he'd like a divorce, until the divorce was finalized.  It's kinda like The Wonder Years, only it's not. There were the two years that I fought to save my marriage followed by the two years we were separated, hammering out the details of the divorce paperwork.  And technically it's not completely over because I'm still waiting on a couple of re-finance deals to get my name off a two more rental properties we owned.  Once that's done, I think the dust can finally start to settle.

However, what I have noticed lately is that I no longer require 10-12 hours of sleep each night.  I know, that's a lot, right!  But it became the norm after the separation.  And just within the last month I've started to find myself being able to get out of bed a little easier having only logged 8 or 9 hours of sleep.

Don't get me wrong, my body is still reeling from all the stress.  My shoulders are ridiculously tight (my purse gets heavy and anyone who knows me knows my purse is always SMALL) and I ache just about everywhere. My joints and muscles ache enough to cause me concern, but I'm trying not to worry, because well, that can't make me better and will definitely make me worse.

I'm trying to be healthier.  I'm working on taking sugar out of my diet (not an easy job) hoping that will help. I have yet to manage a consistent daily yoga practice.  I am afraid I'm about to reach the point where I don't just want to do yoga, or need to yoga, but I HAVE to do yoga.  I know better.  I know I should be doing yoga daily.  I also know that I should not beat myself up for not doing all the things I know I should be doing.

I'm working on learning who I am in this new life of mine.  I'm still a mom, but not a wife.  I'm still homeschooling my youngest, but I'm working.  I am figuring out what it feels like to be a single adult. I'm trying to decide if I like the feeling or not, or even what the feeling is.  I'm reorienting, and getting to know myself.  I'm confused.  I'm happy.  I'm achy.  I'm unsure.  I'm anxious.  I'm settled.  I'm determined.

It Ain't All Bad

It's been brought to my attention that lately all my blogs have been about my struggles.  I guess that's true because I write to work through some of my more difficult feelings, and I share my writings because it helps me feel connected to my people.  :) I hope it also helps others know that they don't struggle alone.

Most of my friends that read my blog are also friends of mine on Facebook, and Facebook is where I post the lighter side of my life.  It's easier to keep in touch with friends through Facebook rather than my blog.

I love seeing the first day of school pictures, the pictures of babies that are making their debut into the world, funny cat videos, and all the rest that keep us all smiling. I post pictures of me and my kiddos, and we almost always have a smile on our faces. And the one time we don't smile, it's because we are carrying on the family tradition of the famous "silly face" shot.

It occurred to me that not everyone who reads my blog also sees my Facebook.  And if the blog is all you get, well then it could seem like my life is rather dark, when it's actually quite the contrary.

I smile most of the time.  I am finding my way in my new little life.  Pieces are beginning to fall into place. New rhythms are being created to which I'm learning to dance. I'm settling in and I'm finding peace. Life is good and only getting better.

I still miss my big kids terribly.  That is one area of my heart that I don't see healing up any time soon. But I'm learning to live with that break in my heart, and I'll be alright.

I'm sitting here with my windows open, enjoying the light breeze and the crickets serenading me in the background.  I've got Pandora playing my favorite piano instrumental songs.  I've got a glass of red wine on the end table. My feet are up. My most recent blog is almost finished.

There are still boxes to be unpacked (and probably a few more emotions too), but they are not going anywhere and I'm not stressed at all about them.  So tonight is good. Nah, tonight is great!

I have the best kids, family, and friends for which any one person could ever ask.  I am blessed beyond measure.

I hope and pray you feel the same way too.

Depression, part 1

I struggle with depression.

I have for years.

It's not the easiest thing to admit or talk about.  But there it is.

I didn't always know that's what it was.  Depression was such an ugly word.   Depression meant you were extremely sad and pathetic. You were at the brink of ending your life. You never laughed or smiled.  You saw no reason to go on. Depression was a death sentence.

I was none of those things, so I couldn't be fighting with depression.

I didn't know what to call it, but I struggled.

I blame some of the struggle on my over sensitive sense of empathy.  It's difficult for me to hear bad news because I immediately feel like I'm right in the middle of whatever is going on.  I'm not trying to sound like I understand everyone's pain in difficult situations.  Not at all.  But if I hear about a tragedy, or loss of life, or even something as simple as a person doing something that is embarrassing, my mind immediately relates to that situation as if I were the person being told the bad news, or whose face was turning red.  My gut turns, or my pulse races, or my head pounds.

I quit watching the news years before 9/11.  I always said that if something were bad enough, someone would call me.  My heart and my head just couldn't handle all the bad news.  And sure enough on 9/11, a friend called and said that I needed to know what was going on.

I didn't start taking anti-depressants until my ex-husband told me he wanted a divorce.  He told me on a Sunday evening and I was at a therapists office on Tuesday morning (first available slot she had) and had an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety prescription that afternoon.

The fact that I'm on meds is also not easy to admit.

I hated the fact that I started taking medication.  I also knew that I needed something to help me deal with the hurricane of emotions that the beginning of the end of my marriage brought flooding to the forefront of my brain.

And now, at least, my struggle had a name.

So now, four years of anti-depressants later, I'm still taking them and I still struggle.

The massive chaos of the breakdown of my marriage is over.  It's no longer the stomach churning, life shattering earthquake it once was.  There are still occasional after shocks, e.g., I live in Texas and two of my kids still live in Pennsylvania, not everything financially has been completely settled, and I'm still hurting for my kids, but the dust is beginning to settle.

I'm also starting over at 43 with no resume and very little job experience. I regularly question my ability to actually "adult" very well. And then I feel guilty that I struggle and get frustrated when I know others have it much worse that I.

It's worse in the mornings and when I'm very tired.  There have been days, when none of the kids were home, where I just couldn't get myself up out of bed.  It was a monumental task to just get up and get going.  Or days when I'd just rather sleep the day away than fight the heavy feelings that often weigh me down. Life just feels exhausting.

I don't struggle with suicidal thoughts.  That's not where my depression takes me.  I just feel tired, so very tired.  The everyday struggles of normal life wear on me, and fall so very heavy on my shoulders.  And often it's not even the struggles in my life.  It's hearing about the struggles in another's life.  Or better yet, worrying about the struggles my kids will face.

I'm not a worrier.  So I don't mean handwringing worrying about something bad possibly happening.  I mean like on a global scale sort of worry.   What kind of world are my kids inheriting? What sort of struggles will they and their children have to face because we, as a whole planet, are not doing a very good job of adulting in order to leave them a clear path forward?

I feel tired, tired of fighting.

I'm tired of fighting for peace and justice.  I'm tired of fighting for love.  I'm tired of fighting against hate.  I'm tired of fighting against the 1%.  I'm tired of fighting along side the other 99%.  I'm tired of fighting bigotry, and ignorance, and intolerance, and greed.

I am tired of fighting. It all makes me so very tired. I'm tired of thinking about all of it. I'm just tired. Did I mention that I'm tired?  Literally achy in my physical bones tired!

To quote in the good ole KJV I know "from whence cometh my help."

I just wish I didn't feel like I needed the help so damn much!

Sitting Uncomfortably

Been a weird week.  Emotionally, strange for me. I have been sitting with it, but not comfortably!

I guess I'm still adjusting to living back in my childhood hometown.  I'm about 5 miles out of a small town of 1300 or so people.  I haven't lived here since I was eighteen.  I moved away for college and only came back for a couple of months in the summers after my first two years of college.  It's a bit of an adjustment after being in the DFW area for 10+ years, followed by Los Angeles and then Philly.  It's a slower pace to be sure.  So there's that.

Then I'm also adjusting to being the full-time parent to just my youngest child.  The two big kids (my teenagers) chose to stay in Philly to be with their friends.  So the house is much quieter, and that is different. I"m still working through all those emotions.

And there is the physical fallout of multiple years of mounds of stress. My energy levels are not as good as they should be and my body aches just about all of the time. I need to be doing more yoga, but can't seem to generate enough drive to properly motivate myself into a consistent daily practice. And most recently the tendon in the crease of both of my elbows decided to start screaming at me if I decide to try to lift anything. I have a feeling it's the fact that my shoulders have been much too tight for far too long and the pain is just sliding down my arms into my elbows.  Next I'll be typing with my nose because I won't be able to move my fingers! I'm trying not to let the physical stuff worry me, but I don't always win that battle.

Plus I'm not at all used to dealing with any sort of physical limitation and it annoys the hell out of me!

And I'm also still learning how to be single. Or at least how to emotionally handle being single. I'm not sure that sentence even makes sense.  I was a kid, then a teenager, then a wife.  Yes, I was married at 19.  I was never a single adult. So now, as a 40+ year old gal, I'm learning all the things about single adulthood I should have learned years ago.

I was a wife for 21+ years.  All of my adult years were spent as a couple. I thought about life and planned for the future as a couple. I never imagined that I'd be single. Things in a marriage are not always perfect, but my philosophy was that you keep working on it and keep working on it.  Giving up was not an option.  So now that I find myself single in my forties I'm a bit at a loss.

It's weird and I don't even know if I can properly put into words the strangeness I feel. I don't really want to be in a relationship.  I cannot imagine trying to have the emotional energy to date and really get to know someone new right now.  It just sounds exhausting.

And I also enjoy my alone time.  I have never had trouble being by myself.  I can sincerely appreciate quiet down time with just me.

So I'm still working on putting my finger on just how I feel.  I guess there are things that pop into my head every now and then and I want to share them with someone and I don't have that certain someone.  Which doesn't really make sense because I have the most wonderful friends and family a person could ever want. I can reach out to many of them at any time and they respond.

Again, not sure I'm making sense.

I think I feel lonely in a new way that I've never really experienced. And I hate to even admit that feeling. I don't like to admit things that make me feel vulnerable. It's difficult for me not to see that as a weakness. I want to be strong and self-sufficient. But I guess I liked being somebody's "other half."  And even admitting that made my stomach turn a little bit. My brain says it sounds yucky and weak to admit that. And for some reason while I'm sitting here writing this I've started to cry.

So I sit with my single, emotional, physically tired, forty-something self. It's shit. It's real. It's me.

I'm trying really hard to like me right now. It's not easy.

Unsettled Summer

This summer has been challenging.  My youngest and I made the transition to Texas in June just after my oldest two finished the school year.  It was not an easy emotional process, leaving behind two of my three kids.  The big kids chose to stay in Pennsylvania for school and friends.  I chose to move to Texas for various reasons all due to the divorce. It was not an easy decision, but a necessary one.

I thought the most difficult part would be driving away, and it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I hoped it would be the last big hurdle to getting the divorce transition behind me, but there was another hurdle to come.

I found out a few weeks after I arrived in TX that my ex had been laid off from his job. This possibility was one of the reasons I chose to relocate. His job loss created some difficulty with things that were supposed to take place regarding the house in PA.  The big kids wanted to stay in the house so he was in the process of getting it out of my name.  This came to a halt with the job loss situation.  And so begins another difficult transition for my big kids as they have to move again.

They have been troopers through all of this transition.  I never wanted them to have divorce drama to deal with along with the natural drama that comes with teenage years.  My heart was broken many times over when I was unable to save my marriage and my family.  Kids should just get to be kids and not have to worry about their family falling apart.  It was ridiculously painful for me watching them go through this and not being able to protect them from the pain.

I had hoped that things would start to settle down for all of us.  The little one and I were finally settling in here and the big kids were adjusting to life there.  And now they have to deal with more uncertainty.  They was a lot of drama surrounding this news for the kids, drama that was out of my control.  There was a lot of anger directed towards me that could have been prevented if the situation had been handled better on the other end of things.  But that is out of my control and I have to work on dealing with their feelings and frustrations as best I can.

Needless to say I've spent a lot of time in prayer and meditation.  The prayer is for them to see the truth even when it seems cloudy or hidden, and for them to have the wisdom and emotional strength to deal with the uncertainty.

The meditation has allowed me to sit with all of the chaos and frustration and anger and resentment and hurt and fear.  It hasn't exactly been pleasant, to say the least. But I'm trying not to run and hide from the feelings. I'm trying to take each day as it comes and continually be aware of my breath.  I'm paying attention to the good and the bad.  Trying to let go of the bad and relish the good.  I don't want to miss joy because I'm too wrapped up in frustration or sadness.  Sometimes it's just a moment of joy: a lost tooth, a wildflower handed to me by a grimy little hand, a splash in the pool as the little one learns to dive. But I want to be present.  I don't want to miss the happy moments.

I will say that I'm ready for things to settle down.  The stress has taken it's toll on me physically and that concerns me. My body gets achy much too easily and my energy levels are much lower.  Again, trying not to worry and just breathe. I have much for which I am grateful, and I am working on putting those thoughts more to the forefront of my mind.

Summer will pass soon enough. I will find all the good memories and hold on to those.

Big Girl Face

I'm packing and getting everything ready for the big move.  My body is achy and my right knee will be thrilled to never have to climb stairs again.  The trailer will arrive today between noon and 4:00. I plan to use the dolly my neighbor lent me to start toting boxes out.  Saturday, with the help of a few friends, we'll load all the big stuff.

The basement is finished with only a couple of boxes waiting to be brought upstairs.  I finished the attic yesterday with my littlest's help. My room is done along with my littlest's room.  All of those boxes are down stairs, minus one, and stacked in the garage.  The kitchen is almost completed, aside from the cookware I use everyday, one coffee cup, and a few dishes for daily use.  Now on to the laundry room and to finish up in the garage.

So I'm keeping myself busy and trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

Aside from packing I've been able to spend some quality time with my big kids too.  We all played the game Headbands the other day.  The youngest one had the best time, laughing and gawking at the various things her siblings were trying to guess they were.

I watched my middle one learn to use the riding lawnmower and mow my yard at Mach 1.  It was hilarious and wonderful to see her grinning and singing along to the song in her head as she whizzed by me on the mower.

My oldest sat down on the couch beside me the other day and picked up his sister's guitar.  He strummed and sang a song he's teaching himself.  It's a funny (barde type) morbid tale of revenge and he sang and played it so well. I didn't realize how much he had learned on the guitar.

Lots of great moments in this final week with all my kids.

So along with the laughter and smiles, I've been dealing with random outbreaks of tears, which currently blur my eyes as I'm trying to type.  As I watched my middle Nascar the lawn, I smiled and cried.  I listened to my oldest sing and play and couldn't hold back the tears.

I don't want to miss my kids.

I moving and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it's the right step for me.

But I don't want to miss my kids.  I don't want to live without all of them just yet.

They have good friends with good families and for this I am extremely grateful.  Their father is attentive and a good provider.  They have chosen to stay with their friends and their schools and I understand their choice, but it's god-awful difficult.

I play tricks on my mind saying it's like boarding school.  And this helps some.  However boarding school is something I would never have chosen on my own.

My oldest noticed that I was tearing up the other day when he was playing and singing.  He paused and asked if I was alright.  I told him I was, because it was true.  I am alright.  I also told him that I really enjoy hearing him play.  Then I laughed and said that sometimes I want to snap his father in half.  He laughed with me and then continued his song of revenge.  :)

When he was done, he put the guitar down and gave me a big hug.  He asked again if I was ok.  I told him that I really was ok. I also told him that he would have to facetime me at least once a week and fill me in on his life.  He promised he would.   I said that I'm putting on my "Big Girl" face and we'll get through it.

Then I quickly got back to work, singing a line from the song he'd recently finished, before he saw the tears come streaming again.

I want them to know that I will miss them and that this is difficult for me, because I love them so very much. I want them to know how much they mean to me.  But I don't want them to worry.

Not once in my teen years did I ever have to worry about my parents emotional well-being.  My parents were at every event, camera in hand, cheering me on and supporting me in every endeavor.  They were a constant and I am forever grateful.  I want my kids to be kids while they still can.  I don't want them to worry or fret about me.

I am wearing my big girl undies and I'll put on my big girl face.  I want them to see love, compassion, kindness, concern, and strength.  It's not about shielding them from my pain, but about showing them how to deal with $h!t and keep your heart open and your head held high.

I hope that's what they learn from me. 

Big girl face on and here we go.

Tidal wave

My last quiet time was a mess.  

It started out pretty normal.  Sitting quietly in my usual spot.  Fan humming softly in the background.  My breath steady and calm.

The first 10 minutes or so were relatively quiet.  A random thought about the upcoming day would pop up and then drift away.  Another to-do floats by.  I notice it and let it pass.

Then all hell breaks loose.

I'm working with mindfulness and being present with whatever comes up.  I'm trying to be fully present in the moment and just notice the thoughts and feelings.  "What is coming up for you?" is a question I hear often in my quiet time.

What came up out of no where this time was a full blown tidal wave of grief.  

One moment I'm sitting, breathing, noticing the ground beneath me, the fan humming beside me, the cool air on my skin.  The next moment there are tears streaming down my face. There is a deep, almost burning, pain in my throat as it suddenly swells and I feel like I have to struggle to breathe. My entire being is overwhelmed by a sadness so strong and so deep and so very real that it takes everything in me to just keep breathing.

My heart feels like someone has it in an iron grip trying to wring every last drop of blood out of it, twisting and wringing it excruciatingly in opposite directions.  My pulse quickens as my heart desperately tries to escape.

I am suddenly swimming in a dark whirlpool of chaotic grief.

In just a little over two weeks my family will change again in a very real way.  First (two years ago) it was the divorce and now (in two weeks) it's my move.  My youngest and I will be moving to Texas and my two bigger kids are staying here in Philly.  

This is a decision which I have agonized over for a very long time.  I have spent so much time in prayer and thoughtful consideration talking this over and over again with the many wise counselors (family and friends) in my life.   The consensus has been that the move is what is best for me and my kiddos (originally it included all of my children, until the eldest two made the decision to stay here with their dad).

I knew their choice to remain here was a possibility.  It will be my oldest's senior year.  So I kind of guessed he might stay.  My middle has decided she wants to stay with her friends here rather than move.  

Once I made the final decision to move I felt a very real peace about it.  And in spite of their choice to stay here, I still know without a doubt that I'm making the right choice.  But that knowledge doesn't help me process through the overwhelming feelings of sadness that I'm drowning in.

I want to run away from it more than words can ever begin to explain.  

I don't want to worry about planning custody schedules and visitation. I don't want to be able to easily count out how many days in the year I'll spend with them. 

I want my family to just be a family.  Together.

I want to hear the backdoor slide open in the afternoon and get to holler, "Hey babe!  How was school?" and hear my middle one answer, without thinking that in another week or so I will never do that with her again.

I don't want to miss the minute of conversation I get with my son between the time he gets in from school and before the video game gets started.  It's only a minute, but I never take it for granted.  And next school year I won't have that. I wanted one more year.

My heart broke when my marriage ended.  And now my heart is breaking again.  

I keep feeling like I've honored and given space for all of these emotions to rise to the surface.  I keep hoping that this tear is the last tear.  Then the tidal wave happens again. 

I am a mom.  I always wanted to be a mom. I love being a mom.  I knew my kids would eventually go off on their own.  I knew we would not always live under the same roof.  This is just SO not the way it was supposed to happen.

So as the sadness swirls and crashes around me I will do my best to stay afloat.  I'm drenched in tears and my chest is so very, very heavy. I am working, struggling, to just be present in the moment.  But when the present is so painful this shit gets awful difficult to sit with.

Today I sat with Broken Promises

Broken promises.

Today as I sat during my quite time this phrase kept popping up.

I noticed how this affected me most through tension I felt from the tightness in my neck, the clenching in my jaw and the heavy weight on my hunched shoulders.

It's strange how my shoulders can feel so heavy and still find their way to hang out with my ears all at the same time.  Sometimes I feel like I'm slowly morphing into the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I took a deep breath and tried to straighten my posture a bit to relieve some of the pain.  I took another breath and settled in.

Broken promises.  The words just keep bouncing around.

In preparation for the move I've been sorting through piles of papers and a few old boxes in the attic. Multiple times I've come across old anniversary cards or birthday cards that I received from my ex.  I have not taken time to read through all of them. Honestly I've only glanced inside a couple of them and then only for a moment.  The handwriting is all too familiar and the words are all to lovely.

Each time I would notice tears coming to my eyes.

I don't really miss him anymore.  I have dealt with that specific part of this already.  I am comfortable being by myself now and familiar with the idea of being a single adult. Missing him is not where the tears come from.

Broken promises.

That seems to be the specific thing I'm having trouble working with. I don't even know that I fully understand it myself.  I don't miss my ex, but I'm still brought to tears when I am reminded of the love he had for me and the loss of future dreams. I find it baffling and rather irritating.

Over the weekend my ex stopped by to pick up my youngest for a few hours.  When he dropped her back off he asked about getting copies made of all the photo albums and scrapbooks I'd made over the years. Of course I had already put them all in boxes for the move.  He asked to take the boxes, make copies, repack, and return them.

I showed him where they were stacked in the garage and he loaded them into his car.  He'll bring them back. I'm not worried about that.  But the whole process was extremely difficult and infuriating for me.

The thought I had was, "Why does he care about having the pictures? This is what he threw away." And the child in me didn't want to share, didn't feel like he deserved his share.

As he drove off I found myself standing in the laundry room crying, tears streaming down my face.  I was not really sure why I was angry and crying, but there I stood, snot and all.

I have not been able to look at the old photo albums much since all of this began. They all held such wonderful memories that now seem tainted.  The few moments I have looked at an album I notice that instead of reminding me of all the fun moments that were captured, all I see is how it feels fake and shallow now.  

Broken promises.

We were a family.  We were always supposed to be a family.  I have grieved the loss of my partner, but somehow the loss of my family still breaks my heart.  He broke promises to me, to us, to all five of us.  I'm crying now as I write this, and I'm angry that I'm crying.

I'm so ready to be over all of this.  I don't want to sit with these feelings.  I don't want to feel the pain.  I don't want to notice anything about any of this.  I don't want to wipe any more snot from my face.  I'm tired of crying.

I don't want to have broken promises. I didn't break them and I can't put them back together.

I'm not the Hunchback.  I'm Humpty Dumpty.

And did I mention, I'm tired.

Embarrassed

Embarrassed.

That's the feeling I notice the most lately.

I continue to practice my daily quiet time.  Nine times out of ten I sit quietly in the early morning.  I wake one or both of my big kids up for school (depending on who is here or at their dad's) and then I take my usual spot for my quiet time.

I sit.  I breathe. I listen.  I pay attention. I notice.  I breathe.

This morning and the last few mornings I find my thoughts drifting to my divorce.  I am getting ready to move back to Texas in mid-June and I guess the preparation and packing is stirring up a lot of emotions.  And one of the feelings that just keeps lingering is the feeling of embarrassment.

I feel it in my chest and gut as I sit in my quiet time.  It feels like an uppercut sucker punch right to the pit of my stomach.  You know the kind that totally knocks the breath right out of you, leaves you gasping for air, and trying not to vomit all at the same time.

I want to run from the feeling, to escape and just be left alone.  I want that desperately, but I'm practicing mindfulness so instead I'm working on sitting with the difficult feeling. And work is certainly the proper word.

Hello Embarrassment.  So this is how I'm feeling today.

I'm embarrassed that I'm divorced.  I'm embarrassed that my marriage failed. I'm embarrassed that I trusted someone so completely and they let me down, and that maybe I let them down too.  I'm embarrassed that I couldn't keep things from falling apart.

I'm embarrassed that people talk and wonder about it.  I know most people are busy enough with their own lives that mine doesn't really matter a lot to them.  I know that. But I also know that when someone hears about a couple breaking up they wonder what happened (even if only for a couple of minutes of conversation).  Still they wonder, and I'm embarrassed that my marriage has been included in one of those conversations.

I'm embarrassed that my ex couldn't handle his mid-life crisis without blowing my family to bits.  I know this is my story.  I know he has his own story to tell.

I'm familiar with the saying, "In divorce there are three sides to every story. His side. Her side.  And the truth."  I know my story. I know I didn't want my marriage to end.  I know one person alone cannot make a marriage work.  If your partner wants to walk away there is not much you can do to stop them, and believe me I tried.

It's been two years since my ex moved out.  Two years.  And I'm still wading through all these stinking emotions.  Put your boots on people, there's a lot of shit to get through.  I'm embarrassed that I'm still knee deep in all this emotional shit.

So I'm sitting with embarrassment. It's uncomfortable. It's exhausting. It's nauseating. It's infuriating.

I breathe and way down beneath all the shit I also know there is a tiny seed of hope. I know this more than I feel it right now, but it's there.

I breathe and I know I'll be alright.  I know life goes on.  I know shit makes great fertilizer, but it also stinks to high heaven.

I breathe.  I breathe in embarrassment.  I breathe out hope.  I breathe in embarrassment.  I breathe out forgiveness.  I breathe in embarrassment.  I breathe out acceptance.

I breathe.

I'll let you know when the shit turns into flowers.

Today I sat with struggling

I turned the alarm off, sat up in my bed, adjusted my pillow into a cushion, closed my eyes and took a conscious breath.  Before that breath was completed a thought popped up.

It's not a new thought, and it's one I've struggled with since I was a teenager. It caught me by surprise because it's 6:00 o'clock in the morning and I had just opened my eyes.

I took another breath and noticed my chest felt heavy and my head was hanging a little.  I felt myself breathe into my chest in an attempt to lighten the feeling and I pulled my head up slightly.

Then I quit adjusting and settled in.

"So this is what I'm sitting with today," were the words I heard (almost audibly) in my head.

I tried to breathe and make peace with the struggle.  Just to let it be and see what it felt like to just sit with my questions.

The struggle, it's all about God.

I took a breath and heard remnants of the conversation I had with my mom the night before on the phone. My uncle has a brain tumor and cancer. He's been sick for over a year.  The other day brain surgery was scheduled.  Then it was cancelled, too much risk.  Then it was rescheduled and yesterday it was done.  He had come through well, no loss of speech or sight.

"There were so many people praying," my mom had said.

As soon as she said those words I heard the question in the back of my mind, "Is there a certain number it takes to bend God's ear in order for God to answer?"

This is the type of question that has haunted me for years.  I tried to let the thought pass and focus on the good news my mom was sharing.  I guess it didn't go away completely and this morning I got to sit with it.

I breathed and noticed I felt irritated.  I felt tension in my forehead.  I'm tired of this struggle.  I've made my peace with it.  I'm comfortable with my answers. But here it was.

It's roots go back to my raising.

I was raised believing in an all knowing, all powerful, all loving God.  Sounds good, right?  Not so much, at least not for me.  Those three things together created way too many questions in my mind.  And in the church in which I was raised, questions were not always welcome.  Faith.  Faith was extremely welcome. Questions, not so much.

These three things together: the love, the power, and the knowledge, caused me a great deal of difficulty.

By the time I was in high school I had discovered that not everyone of my friend's lives were as perfect as mine.  My life was a picture taken right on the very streets of Mayberry.  It could not have been more perfect.  However I had friends who were not so lucky.

I prayed for these friends.  I prayed "fervently" and "without ceasing."  And more times than not I didn't see a good answer from God.  I often thought that if I had been all loving, all powerful, and all knowing I would have done things quite a bit differently (another thought that didn't sit well in my church).  I would certainly have used that power to remedy some of the troubles I saw. And telling people that you thought God should be doing a better job, well that just wasn't done.

The answers I was given fell flat.  "God was teaching them a lesson."  "God allowed this to make them stronger." "Have faith and trust God's providence."

Platitudes.

And as I got older it didn't get any easier.  As my world expanded past the walls of my small high school and I began to pay attention to the problems in the bigger world it just got worse.

God made less sense and I grew more angry and extremely sad with the overall state of the planet.  There was much too much suffering and pain and trouble and heartache.  And being told to just trust God, it just didn't cut it.

We weren't supposed to just trust God.  There was a call to action.  There was the "Great Commission."

Go, preach, baptize, save. It was at the very core of our faith.

But for me it fell short.  Saving someone from Hell and getting them into Heaven when they died was wonderful.  But so many people were living in Hell right now.

The questions didn't linger quietly.  They screamed at me almost constantly.  I'd hear someone say they prayed for safety and avoided a car accident. "Praise God," they'ed comment.  I'd immediately think about everyone who prayed and hadn't avoided an accident.  What about all the people who weren't healed or helped or protected or provided for? Did it have to be prayed at the right time, by the right number or people, saying it the right number of times? Did they have to have enough faith? What was the perfect formula?  Was there a perfect formula?

I was angry at a God who would pick and choose.  A few get answers.  The rest get screwed.

"No is also an answer."

"Trust God. It's all part of a greater plan."

This was infuriating and felt heartless.

So back to my quiet time.

I paid attention to the irritation and I breathed.  I noticed the familiar wrinkle in my brow. I took another breath. I felt frustration rumbling in my chest. but I tried not to push it away.

I sat and listened.  I noticed my breath.

Then, once again, I remembered my mom saying, "There were so many people praying." And this time I did't notice anger. I noticed love. I thought about the love all of those people were sharing with my uncle and his family. I was grateful for love.

I thought back to more than ten years ago when a dear friend of mine lost two small children to two different horrific accidents.  I told her I didn't have an answer about where God was when her children died. I didn't know why God didn't protect them. But I knew I was willing to sit with her and cry with her. I loved her and lots of other people did too.  God?  I didn't know.  Love.  Love was there.

And this morning, after fighting with my decades old struggle, that's where I found my thoughts settling.

Love.

I took another breath and felt love soften the anger in my heart. I took a conscious breath. I sat breathing in and out.

"Love lifted me."

As I typed those words, I suddenly noticed tears streaming down my face.

It's an old hymn I grew up singing.  I know all the words by heart.

The chorus:

Love lifted me.
Love lifted me.
When nothing else could help,
Love lifted me.

I will sit with this love.

I will always have more questions than I have answers.

But more importantly than that, I have love.  I love.  I am loved.

"Love lifted me."





 

Today I sat with my old blue van.

I took my usual seat for my quiet time this morning.  Settled in and begin to focus on my breath and pay attention.  I felt the tension in my shoulders.  I noticed the tightness in my jaw.  I heard the voice of my mindfulness teacher saying at I needed to just notice things and not try to change anything.  Simply notice and sit with what comes up.

So I tried to just breathe and I noticed my irritation at all the aches and tension. I felt the frustration manifest in my temples and the center of my chest.  I took another deep breath and felt the frustration and tension again. And then I took another breath and tried to "firmly but gently" redirect my thoughts back to my breath.

Easier said than done.

I have a lot going on right now.  I'm gearing up for my move to Texas in June.  I'm dealing with the emotions of knowing my two big kids are choosing to stay here in Philly.  My son will be a senior this fall and wants to finish at the school he started at this year.  And my middle daughter will be starting high school and says she doesn't want to move away from her friends. I understand their choices, but it doesn't make it any easier.

I've started packing and yesterday finally booked the moving company, which helps a little.

The next item on my to-do list is to sell my old blue van.

And this task is what haunted my quiet time this morning.

I would breathe and focus on that breath and then immediately feel the weight of my van come crashing down on my chest.

I hate the idea of trying to sell an 11 year old vehicle!

She's been a good car.  I've had her since 2007.  I got her in California.  She's been up and down the Pacific Coast Highway, to Texas, to Kansas, to Philly, back Texas a few more times, to D.C., to Michigan twice, and upstate New York multiple times.

She has complained very little with all this travel and all in all been a wonderfully dependable car.  However she does show signs of her age.  Some of her passenger side sliding door is a slightly different color thanks to a crappy repair job from a dent she received in a parking lot years ago.  And her passenger side mirror looks wonderfully sexy being held together with electric tape.  Her sliding door power locks have lost their power, and her clicker quit clicking.  And to top it all off, her rear bumper is dented and peeling.  She is sturdy and dependable, but not the sexiest vehicle around.  And being sky blue doesn't seem to help either.

As I wrote that last paragraph I felt a smile pop up on my face.  I chuckled because I suddenly saw a wonderful resemblance between her and me!  I'm also not as young as I used to be and the last few years have certainly left a few dents and scratches that I'm struggling to deal with.  I just read back through that last paragraph and the "sturdy and dependable" sentence literally made me laugh out loud!

So I sat with my van and now I'm writing about her and I feel lighter.

I need to find her a good home and I'm still a little stressed about that, but I feel better.

My meditation was challenging because my mind was heavy, but I sat with it.

Today I sat with my old blue van.  She made me smile.  Hopefully soon she'll put a smile on someone else's face too.

A pain in my . . .

This evening I went to a mindfulness class at my church.  I was not in the best of moods due to being on the phone with multiple moving companies today getting quotes.

(I really do not enjoy this part of the moving process at all.  After several lengthy phone calls and being told by each sales person how the other sales people at the other companies were all just trying to rip me off, but they were legit, I felt like everything was too expensive and everyone was out to pull the wool over my eyes. I was irritated and exhausted.)

I had missed multiple classes in the last couple of months due to scheduling conflicts and was determined to go tonight. However, I have to admit, I had to drag myself there.

I kept waiting for the tiredness and irritation to pass and for me to feel pleased that I had come, but that didn't happen.  I was tired and uncomfortable throughout the entire class.  But since it was a mindfulness class I did my best to just sit with the tired and uncomfortable aches and pains, and frustrations.  The teacher actually opened the class up saying something along the lines of, "If you notice discomfort try to really pay attention to it.  Don't try to change it.  Just notice it and be with it."

I was,  just being. I didn't have the energy to do much else. I gave in and instead of fighting to get myself in a better mood, I just let the irritation be.  I took my deep breaths and just sat there with the tiredness and discomfort.  I just kept listening to the teacher and returning to my breath.

The silent meditation was more of the same, still aching and irritated and I'm pretty sure I drifted in and out of a light sleep a few times. Oops :)

During the discussion time my neck and jaw were hurting and I was having a difficult time finding a comfortable way to sit.  I focused on really trying to listen to what the others were saying and just let my neck be my neck.

After the final closing prayer I was sitting on the floor chatting with a friend as we rolled up our yoga mats. I felt a sudden pain on the side of my right knee and remarked that it felt like I had just been stung.  I pulled up the leg of my pants to see a red welt.  My friend commented that it was most likely from the wasp that was now crawling on my sleeve.

My friend rescued the wasp from me.  I was temped to squish it, but I held back, ya know, cause I just finished a mindfulness class.  She quickly removed the bug and let it go outside.  I walked to my car, my skin crawling, hoping there were no more bugs.

Definitely not the best ending to a mindfulness class!

Then it happened.  Before I was even out of the parking lot I noticed that I felt better (stinging pain, aches and discomfort, and all).  The thoughts I noticed floating through my head went something like this, "It's just money.  Stop stressing about paying for the move. Stop worrying about being 'taken.'  You can save up again once you are settled in TX.  Stop stressing and just see it as an investment in your future.  It's gonna be alright."

I felt a smile show up on my face.  I was surprised.  I was happy to notice the surprise.

I drove home paying attention.  A pain in my neck.  A pain in my knee.  A smile on my face.

It's gonna be alright.

Enough

Four years ago this month and four months before our 20th anniversary, my then husband took me out to dinner to tell me he wanted a divorce (just fyi a public place is not the best venue choice for this sort of conversation). :)

I spent the next two years trying to prove to him that we could make our marriage work.

Two years ago this month, he moved out and the official divorce process began.

Today, four years past the initial conversation that turned my world upside down, I continue to find myself working through my feelings regarding this whole mess.  This is what came up for me during my quiet time today.

If you've read my blog, you are familiar with my usual quiet time routine.  This morning was no different. I settled in and focused on my breath. The first thoughts that came to mind were about last night's dinner.  I cooked a roast, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli, and my grandmother's homemade noodles.  My youngest and I ate at the table.  My oldest ate watching a show in the tv room.  My middle was at her dad's.

The meal was delicious, but there were a lot of leftovers.  I noticed that I felt a little silly that I'm still struggling with how to cook for a smaller family.  I think this is one of the things that triggered some of my emotions. Two of my former family of five had not been there.

And if I'm being honest, I also felt a bit under-appreciated.  I wanted to feel like someone really cared that I had prepared the meal.  I'm sure my son was pleased to have been fed and enjoyed his meal.  My youngest had hummed happily and she pretended to be a bird slurping up "worm" noodles, but this morning I noticed that I still felt a little empty.

As I sat and tried to return my attention to my breath I felt foolish to even be having this thought.  There are such greater problems in the world that people struggle with every day.  My desire to feel appreciated seems a mighty small trouble.  I felt embarrassment and heartbreak at the same time.

I sat there almost scolding myself.  Literally the words in my head were, "Really Deborah?  This is what comes up when you sit."

And yet, this is what was coming up.

I tried to focus on my breath and sit with this feeling.  What was it exactly?  Where did I feel it in my physical body?  What did I notice is my most current field of awareness?

I noticed the tension in my jaw, the tightness in the muscles in my neck that stretched down into my upper back.  I stretched my neck from shoulder to shoulder and then lowered my chin toward my chest in an attempt to relieve some of the strain on the muscles.

Then I took another breath, and through the gut wrenching feeling of embarrassment I looked at my desire to feel appreciated.  And then I heard the voices of both Rev. Lee and Rev. Ken simultaneously, "You are enough.  There is a LOVE so great that you don't have to do anything great to be loved."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, so I took another deep breath.  And then I felt the heat of anger flood through my body as I closed my eyes tightly to push away the tears.  I felt angry and frustrated that I was not "enough" for my husband to choose to stay in our marriage.  I know that this is not the sole reason my marriage ended, but it was the one that was rearing it's ugly head today.

Somehow if I had done more, been more, been enough.

Things might have been different.  My life would not have been so broken.  My three children would not be struggling to deal with all of their emotions regarding the divorce.

I was not enough.  I couldn't save my marriage.  I couldn't shield my kids from all of this pain.

I tried to breath again.  I noticed tears streaming down my face.  I felt my forehead wrinkle.  I continued to notice the embarrassment and the anger all swirled together resulting in a churning stomach.

I took a deep breath and said quietly to myself, "I want to feel appreciated."

I hate that I continue to struggle with my ex-husband's decision to end our marriage because it makes me feel unappreciated.  It's true and embarrassing to admit all at the same time.

I took another deep breath and tried to really feel all that was crashing around in my brain and my belly.

I took another breath and replayed the words in my head again, "You are enough. There is a LOVE so great that you don't have to do anything great to be loved."  I felt a painful catch in my chest as I repeated the words to myself again.

The bell rang.  I took another deep breath.  I felt tired.

Today I sat with tension

I have to admit that I have not been as consistent with my daily quiet time the last couple of weeks.  I was sitting every day for a while there and I was thoroughly enjoying it.  Which is why I was quite surprised to see just how easy it was to fall off the wagon.  A snooze button here.  A late night there.  And off I went.

In spite of the lack of sitting time during the last two weeks, I did notice myself being mindful of one thing.  I became much more aware of the extreme amount of tension I carry in my shoulders that has radiated up into my neck, jaw and forehead.  I was also keenly aware of the aches I feel from head to toe.

My self-care hasn't been what it should be lately.  It's a vicious cycle.  It starts with me skipping a quiet time one day and then a healthy meal the next.  I get rushed, or irritated, or anxious, or annoyed, or all of the above.  I find myself drawn to junk food because I no longer have the energy to care.  And this leads me back to increased irritation, anxiousness, etc.

So today, when the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. I woke my daughter for school and then I sat.

I took my usual seat for my quiet time and mindfully began to focus on my breath.  I noticed the birds chirping outside and the calming hum of the fan I use for white noise.  I took a few more breaths and attempted to settle in. 

The tension in my jaw was impossible to ignore. I stretched my neck and wiggled my jaw back and forth noticing it pop in both directions.  I took another deep breath and disconnected my shoulders from my ears.  I noticed my frustration at the tension and then my frustration at myself for neglecting myself.  I took another breath and remembered the words of Rev. Ken from his sermon on Sunday, "Speak to yourself like you would speak to a friend."

So I took another deep breath and instead of scolding me for the neglect, I congratulated me for taking time to sit today.  I returned my focus to my breath and tried to gently let go of all of the frustration I felt for me.

I spent the remainder of my quiet time returning to my breath and letting go.  Slowly but surely I noticed comfort instead of frustration.  My chest felt lighter.  My breath easier. My jaw a tiny bit more loose.  I took another breath and noticed a small smile. 

When my quiet time was done, I hopped up to get breakfast ready for my daughter, and I felt lighter.  The tension is still there, but it's not screaming at me quite so loudly.

I noticed that the silence of my sitting is loud enough to drown out the screaming of the tension.

Clean that mess up!

I sat down today for my quite time and worked on focusing on my breath and the sounds I noticed in my environment.  I could hear my son cleaning up his room and this made me smile.  

I don't ever bother him about his room and, since he's sixteen, he doesn't usually bother about it either.  It's a mess, and I just keep the door closed.  His space is his to manage.  So I noticed I felt a bit of relief when I heard him cleaning.  I keep the house relatively clean and try to set a good example.  Evidently he notices (at least a little) and the idea that popped into my head when I heard him cleaning was, "He's gonna be alright." 

This all took about 10 seconds to process.  It's amazing how quickly the mind works!  It's fascinating to see just what pops up when you stop and listen.

The rest of my sit was not as pleasant.

I returned my focus to my breath.  I sat and listened. The pleasant thoughts about my son quickly drifted away and were replaced with clouds of sadness.  

Sadness because of so much pain in the world.  A big jump from the delight of a room being cleaned to the weight of the world, I know!

So I take another breath and try to let the cloud pass.

The sadness is quickly replaced with anger which I notice most in the tension I feel across my forehead, in the wrinkling of my eyebrows, and in the tension of my clenched jaw.  I feel frustration and anger with the state of the world.  There are times when the hurt, anger, exclusion, and violence people experience feels like too much to bear.  I notice this most in my body in the crushing weight I feel in the center of my chest.  

I breathe and try to push back against this weight.  I breathe and try to let the thoughts pass, but they are a lead balloon instead of just a dark cloud.  The thoughts and feelings bear down on me.  I feel my head droop and my body is heavy.

I take another breath and notice my mind wondering how the people in the middle of the most painful situations keep going.  I feel angry that humans can be so damn hurtful to other humans.  How hard is it to be kind?  Why is it so difficult to be open-minded and loving?  Why are ignorance and fear so capable of causing so much hurt and pain?  

My throat feels tight and I want to scream loud enough for the entire world to hear me.  I want to scream, "STOP!!!  Stop hating!  Stop hurting!  Stop judging!  Stop being an asshole!"

I try to find my breath and return my focus there.  It doesn't seem to work.  I feel angry and uncomfortable in my seated position.  I breathe and feel helpless.  I feel the ache in my chest to do something. I feel my fists clench in the frustration of not having a clue about what to do.

I desperately want the world to clean up it's bedroom.  I want the world to stop acting like a selfish, angry child.  I want the world to see the mess that's here and decide to tidy things up.  I desperately want too look at the world and think, "It's gonna be alright."

Today I sat still

I sat this morning from 6:00 to 6:20 a.m.  I got my oldest up to get ready for school then took my usual seat for my quiet time.

This morning I noticed just how much I enjoy taking time to sit still.

I sit down and settle in, take a couple of deep breaths and listen.  I hear birds busily chirping outside my window.  I hear the hum of my fan.  I hear my youngest stir in her sleep beside me on the bed.  I listen.

I notice just how heavy I feel sitting here, heavy in a good, comforting way.  I feel heavy, rooted, and stable.  I feel still.  I notice this shows up in a slight smile on my face.  I pay attention to the stillness and feel it wash over me in a gentle wave.

I sit.  I sit still.

I hear a helicopter rumbling by.  I notice I'm thinking about the pilot.  I wonder how busy his morning has already been.  I wonder when his day began.  I appreciate my stillness even more.

Today will get busier.  I have plenty to accomplish before my head hits the pillow tonight.  but for now, I sit.

I sit still.

Today I sat with my heartbeat.

My daily sitting practice continues.  I've noticed that the 20 minutes of sitting continues to get easier and easier.  The last few times the minutes have seemed to just fly by.  It feels a little weird, but pleasant.

The feelings, thoughts, and emotions that show up are not necessarily any easier to experience, but I feel like I'm getting better at touching the thoughts, noticing what they feel like, and letting them be, or maybe letting them go.

Today and the previous two quite times I have really been noticing my own heartbeat.

It's a strange and wonderful feeling for me to experience.

I sit down, cross my legs, take a few deep, calming breaths, relax my shoulders, return to my normal breath, and then I listen.

I notice the sounds in the environment first: the hum of the fan I use for white noise, the clicking of the pipes in the baseboard heater, the sound of my own breathing.  I return my focus to this breath and check in with my body.  What am I noticing?

This is when I have begun to really feel my heartbeat.  As I sit, it feels almost as if my entire body is rocking back and forth to this amazing rhythm.  I know I'm actually sitting still, but it feels like so much more movement.

I feel very much alive and appreciative for all the things my body does for me as I sit. The energy I receive from this feeling is almost elation.  It's a calm elation, but a beautiful recognition in myself of the wonder that life is.

It feels like a peaceful constant in the midst life's whirling storm.

Today I sat with my heartbeat.

Happy Birthday to me!

I turned 43 today.

I slept in extremely late (two kiddos were at their dad's, and one was at a friend's), and I mean extremely late! Like my feet didn't hit the floor until hours after lunch had past.  It was delightful.  When you are still wrapped up in your housecoat as the sun is setting, it's been a relaxing day.

I received multiple texts, facebook messages, and phone calls from family and friends wishing me a happy birthday.

I enjoyed spending a few hours this evening with several friends eating cheesecake, enjoying a glass of wine, and catching up.

Today was wonderful.

I made sure to continue my sitting practice.  I'm finding it easier and easier to sit for 20 minutes.  I'm also noticing that I'm looking forward to my quiet time more and more.  This is a very welcome feeling.

The question "Where will you be in ten years?" was never one I liked.  My 33 year old self could never in a million years have predicted that my 43 year old self would be divorced and working on starting a new life.

I've questioned my ability to deal with the cards that I've been dealt in the past few years.  I've questioned my strength, my faith, my sanity.  And yet another birthday has come and gone, and I've had a wonderful day.

I have no idea what my life will look like in another 10 years.  But if my 53rd birthday is anything like my 43rd, I'll be doing alright.

I'm blessed beyond measure with a life full of love from so many people.  Thanks to each of you for being a part of my journey. Your presence in my little world is the best present any one person could ever hope to receive.

Happy Birthday to me!

Today I sat.

I'm a little over two weeks into a consistent daily practice.  I've been working with being more mindful for a couple of years now.  I have continually practiced my quiet times off and on, but this is the first time I've been consistent daily in taking at least 20 minutes to sit.

Today I sat.

I took a few breaths.

I noticed when I first started my meditation today that my mind began to question what exactly I would be sitting with.  I found myself looking for an interesting idea or emotion.  

I refocused on my breath and worked on letting this idea go.

I don't want to orchestrate my practice.  I want to breathe and simply notice what's going on.

So I began to really pay attention to the feeling of my body taking a breath.  Noticing the cool feeling of the fresh air as it entered my nostrils and the release I felt with the warm out breath.

I sat and noticed.  Multiple times I returned my attention to my breath as various ideas took hold in my mind. I would not describe today's practice as monkey mind, it was not that busy.  Today was a bit more calm.

I have begun to notice that the 20 minutes seems to pass more quickly.  I fidget a little less, and I find myself looking forward to my practice in a new way.  

Today I sat.

Today I sat with monkey mind.

In an effort to be a bit more mindful in my living, I'm working toward a more consistent sitting practice.

Today I sat with monkey mind.

I took my seat, legs crossed, sitting upright on my bed.  I let my shoulders drop (no longer wearing them as earrings), let my hands rest on my thighs, and I took a moment to notice my breathing.

I breathe and listen.  I breath and notice.  I sit and I breathe.

As I focus on my breath, I try to pay attention to what is coming up for me today. What do I notice at specific this moment in my day? What I notice is my thoughts jumping from one idea to another.

Just as I was ready to sit with one feeling, another would surface.

I recognize that emotion and begin to settle into the idea of it, and another pops up.

Monkey mind.

All the branches of my mind seemed especially enticing today.  I return my attention to my breath.  I work on being non-judgmental towards my wayward mind.  I breathe and feel myself smile and gently direct my attention back to my breath.

Lather, rinse, repeat . . .

Breathe.  Notice my mind jump to another emotional branch.  Return to my breath.

Breathe.  Feel the mind wander to a trouble from the past.  Return to my breath.

Breath.  See the mind jump anxiously to a future plan.  And again return to my breath.

And so my practice continues.

Today I sat with monkey mind.

Today I sat with fear.

I am learning how to live mindfully.  Part of this process is practicing mindful meditation.  I sit in quiet, checking in with myself and seeing what comes up. "What do I notice most in my current field of awareness?"

I sit upright in my bed.  I cross my legs.  I stretch my neck.  I take a couple of breaths. I place my hands on my thighs and relax my arms.  I drop my shoulders. I breathe again.  I notice.  I listen.  I breathe.

I feel the grip of fear.

For me, in my body, fear grabs a hold of the center of my chest.  It's a tight, heavy feeling, as if something is squeezing and pressing down heavily on the center of my sternum.

I take a deep breath and find myself focusing on expanding my chest in an effort to apply a counter pressure. Then I breathe again, this time without effort.

I don't want to fight the feeling.  I want to notice what fear feels like, for me.  I don't like the feeling, but it's there. I don't wish it away.  I don't feel afraid of the feeling.  I feel it.  It's what I notice the most, right now.

I breathe.  I notice my heart beat.  I breathe again, and again, and again.

I sit for 20 minutes.  I breathe.  I am present.

Today I sat with fear.