She who hesitates...

I begin again.
This is the fifth blog entry I have begun in the past few weeks. I think I am beginning to develop a writer's stutter. A condition that means I begin to write and then I hesitate. I begin again and get distracted. I begin again and decide that what I thought was important to get down in words is actually completely unimportant and in the Buddhist /Eastern tradition I just begin to understand that what is, is... and so I stop writing.  I think I have to stop not meeting myself like this. I am starting to suspect that I am avoiding myself.  It wouldn't be the first time I avoided myself. I am a master at the art of avoidance. 


STOP!!! Back up, rewind, begin again. 


No, that's not true, I am not a 'master' of avoidance, that is just one of those blanket statements that I make to exaggerate my feelings or behaviour so that I can create a story for myself. I am not much of a master, more of a talented amateur. As a matter of fact, I find it tough to avoid the things that disturb me. I obsess, I anxiatate (I think that is an invented word) and I chatter on to all those willing to listen until I can no longer avoid myself and have dissipated all the energy around disturbing events. I am doing this at the moment. 


A few months back I did some work that I was unhappy with. I didn't listen to my gut reaction telling me not to take on the contract and proceeded to work for a client in whom I didn't have much confidence and deliver a programme I felt hesitant about. It worked (sort of)  though I still wasn't happy with the work or the client. I recently resigned from a part of the programme that I felt unable to deliver properly and this was the right decision. This partial resignation still left me feeling unsure and there was still a sinking feeling inside me every time I thought of the future work to which I was still committed.


A few days ago I was given more information about the internal politics and crises my client organisation was dealing with. My training consultant colleagues had been shabbily treated and I felt even more distressed that I was still committed to working with this chaotic organisation. After much deliberation and now I see that it was probably more deliberation than the issue deserved, I finally pulled the plug on the rest of this work. Sure, the money would have been useful, but I saw with crystal clarity that I need to take care of myself in all of this. I walked away from the last time I worked with this client feeling unsure and somewhat dissatisfied with my work.


I now see that it was also the state that the organisation was in that was creating distress in me. The staff  there are unhappy, demotivated and angry and I was on the receiving end of their anger at their own management. I will not do that again. I will not let myself be used as on outsider whipping post. This is the right decision for me. So why does it feel so bad? Why do I feel that I have let myself down? I do believe that I should be able to shoulder all of these things, shrug them off and fix the situation. It is usually the last thing I do - fix the situation by fixing it for me. It is unusual for me to put myself first. Maybe that's why it feels so shaky.


One of these days I will learn to trust my gut - to go with my self-protective feelings and to take care of me first. I am very good at giving myself 'things', at buying myself stuff, but I am not nearly as good at nourishing and loving the little me that today needs a bit of TLC.


I am pleased that I am still learning, that I am still discovering ways to be kind to myself. Next time, maybe I won't hesitate so much before taking care.

June and the grass grows by itself today..

Watching the malaise that has crept over me for the past few days I have been aware of being filled with a heaviness and a sense of dis-ease.  My back has ached and I've been walking around with a cloud of dismality over my head.  When I asked myself what was going on I came up with the same old, same old - basically no real answer and today when I woke up and happened upon a calendar I realised that this is just about the time of the anniversary of my son's death.  Funny how the date comes around even when I have no anticipation or build up on a conscious level.  It just arrives and what arrives with it is an overwhelming, historic sadness that I am a bit more able to witness and allow to pass.





Now that I know that this is what has been going on in the background of my daily life I can stop being at the mercy of the misery and carry on with my life.  I can put the skip back into my step and enjoy the sunshine. It is remarkable to me that once I saw that this was at the root of this disharmony, how quickly I was able to allow the feeling but no longer be at the mercy of it.  Great progress I believe.  All things are possible.


Today I got a new bread bin.  Trivial, silly and commonplace and also funny how pleased I am with this tiny bit of shiny stainless steel.  I think our old bin, a shiny bit of stainless steel, gave us daily service for at least 25 years, so the replacement, a bit smaller, a bit shinier, but to all intents and purposes, is exactly the same.  


So strange to begin to look at things and try to assess if this is 'the last' of this.  Will I never buy another bread bin?  How many more things in my home that I am slowly fixing, replacing or discarding will be the last of their kind?  Will I live to be 100 - should I get the most expensive saucepans with a lifetime guarantee?  After all, if I buy the cheaper ones that will only last for 10 years, maybe that will be enough.  Will a lifetime guarantee be a waste of money?  What madness being a 21st century consumer really is and trying to predict whether I will have a longer life span than a bread bin.  I certainly hope so, but if not, I'll leave a quality legacy.


As the malaise of the last few days begins to lift, its place is being taken by a fidgety restlessness.  In days gone by I would have easily channeled that restless energy into a marathon of shopping, but that activity no longer holds as much pleasure as it once did.  I am sure that I have more than enough clothing to last me for years longer than the new bread bin and I have so many shoes that I could trek around the world and never wear out any one pair. How very convenient that as I age I also become discerning enough too see that the fashions that look great on Lady GaGa are no longer an option for me.  Mini skirts, wedge-heeled shoes and over-sized handbags are finished for me.  At my age and my shape I might just as well wear the bread bin. Sometimes invisibility is an advantage.


So today meanders on, not up, not down, but suddenly not restless at all, just very, very tired.  I guess my way of dealing with the passage of the days is to sleep for a lot of them, especially the ones that have pangs of sadness attached to them. For the most part I'm fine and that's enough for now.

Watching...and waiting

As the days pass and the sun still shines I often feel as if I live my life waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Having had such a good winter and by that I mean a winter where I didn't fall into the Harris hole of depression, I am sitting here in this glorious Spring feeling a bit low and completely de-motivated.  Why? Does it matter? Can I actively change it by being in-active?


Last week's work fiasco was the beginning.  Though, if being honest with myself I set up that situation perfectly.  The killing of Bin Laden was not planned in any greater detail.  From the moment I took on the work contract I began to create failure.  I was convinced I wouldn't be any good and I was certain that I was not prepared enough, that my programme for the two day course was not detailed enough. I was sure that I would fall flat on my face and when I was confronted with a sour, unhappy group of workers, I decided to take it all very personally and fall flat, just as I anticipated.  Since then I have had more positive feedback, from senior people and directors of the company.  I have seen that the two days achieved more than anyone expected and that I was well liked and invited back with open arms.


This knock has rocked me dreadfully.  I feel so low and so unlovable today and I also see that I am just creating more 'stuff' for me to deal with and there is no need for it  and still I do this again and again.  To me this is the definition of stupid.  As Einstein said when he defined insanity - 'doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results'. So either I am insane or very stupid.


To add to this self-flagellation I went to my doctor this morning for some minor thing and he weighed me! Weighed me! Very bad thing to do when I am not feeling absolutely at the top of my game.  I always want to be thinner.  Thinner than I am at any given moment and today I was not.  I have not gained any weight in months, but according to his (obviously wrong) scales, I have not lost more that 1/2 a kilo.  BOO! this means that in order to attain my ideal weight and age, because of course, I not only want to be thinner I also want to be younger, I have to cut out all the little treats that feel so necessary when I am feeling low. The realisation that even if I am thin I will still be almost 62 years old with a face full of wrinkles and a body dimpled with cellulite is another huge de-motivator.  Oy vey - am I making problems today.


All in all, I could list idiotic reasons as to why I feel low, but it all comes down to the same thing.  All of it is self-created and seeing this today so clearly is almost enough to motivate me to do something new.  I could clear my clothes from the floor of the bedroom, I could cook a gourmet dinner, I could even iron some clothes, but at the moment the blankets of my bed beckon me and are asking me to pull them up over my head and hide for a while.


I think I will try to do a little bit of all these things.  After all, that's what a day off is for.  Tomorrow I can go to work and shine.  Today I will just glow a bit and give in to myself.

How to get it wrong...

So, here I am beating myself up for doing a terrible job at my training event last week.  Really beating myself up, gnashing of teeth, wailing, mea culpa-ing like crazy and then I started typing up the training notes.  As I typed I saw that actually the group came away with lots of ideas, actions, plans and future changes they are going to make.  So far, so good.  Then I had a conversation with the consultancy that hired me.  I was on the verge of handing back this contract, resigning with my tail between my legs and slunking off to a corner to lick my self-esteem shattering wounds until I heard that the client loved me. Huh??? Really loved me, thought I was great and wants me to not only carry on working with the organisation, but also wants me to facilitate a meeting with their executive directors and their board.  What????


How did I get this so wrong?  For sure I could have run a tighter course.  I could have nailed the brief down tighter before I started, but there was no way I could have anticipated the internal wrangling and politics I was faced with.  I could not have known that this particular group of people was fed up with any training at all and didn't want to be in the room.  I could not have known the individual hidden agendas with which I was confronted and all of this added up to me believing that I was unprofessional and more distressingly, useless.


I am not unprofessional and I am not useless, but how easily I let myself be convinced of this.  How easily I let myself fall headlong into this pit of despair makes me sad for me and for my development.  I thought I was further along than this.  I really believed I had transcended my childhood need for approval and could re-affirm myself without the need of the input from others.  Maybe this is another form of arrogance - the belief that the opinions of others should not matter.  For me they do, but how could I have read this so wrongly?  Why was I so ready to believe the worst about myself?  This is what I am busy with right now.


I used to be a smoker.  I was a heavy smoker and sometimes got through three packs of cigarettes a day. I stopped in the 1980's for over eleven years.  Wow - quite an accomplishment! I convinced myself that I was cured.  No longer a nicotine addict.  I could be in a room full of smokers and not feel an inkling of temptation. Nothing, not a smidget!  I was above my past addiction.  And then, one day, I had a cigarette.  What harm could it do? I was no longer even tempted by the lure of cigarettes, one couldn't hurt.  BANG! Before I knew it I was back on two packs a day edging towards three.  How easily I slipped back into old habits.


This is just what I did over the past few days around work. I judged myself so harshly because of my addiction to old habits.  Not feeling good enough is an old habit.  I thought I had eliminated it, but obviously just like the one cigarette of my old downfall, one episode of doubt had me laid low.  Feeling bad about myself is an addiction to the past and just like any addiction I need to look at it again and be more aware of its power to entrap me.  I need to treat this addiction to feeling lousy with respect and when it arises, I need to examine it, acknowledge it and counter it with positivity. What I don't need to do, is to feed it.  The more I feed the addiction to feeling bad, the bigger it grows. I need to nourish the little girl inside who is so unsure, but not be beating her up, but by hugging her and showering her with love.


Thank goodness I have friends.  They have been supportive and loving and busy telling me that I'm fine.  I am beginning to put myself back together again.  I am still feeling bruised by what was a difficult few days and I am still wary of going back to the same organisation.  This time I will go back prepared for what I might find and with the knowledge that I am good at what I do and I am never less than professional and competent.  Sometimes I am even great!


Oh, and by the way, I completely stopped smoking six years ago and can't even remember that old addiction so there is genuine hope for the future.

I'm Back!

THIS PIECE WAS WRITTEN THEE WEEKS AGO:
It's over two months since I've thought to come and write down my thoughts.  I'm not at all sure why this is and not sure why I am today inspired to write once again. So much has happened and so many different emotions have flown through me that it's almost hard to know where to begin and possibly, and just as importantly, where to end.

In the past few months I have been to the States to visit my father, seen some old friends, been on holiday in Scotland and increased the amount of work I've been doing.  Life has felt very busy and I've been watching my moods with curiosity as I take on more and panic less. I've given myself the gift of booking the Ecstatic Chant group at the Omega Institute in early September and booked a week's residential pottery course with Ralph for this summer.  Even making plans for a few months in advance seems like a good omen and a pledge of trust in the future.  I've watched the garden turn green again and the Spring blossom come and go as the warm weather takes hold.  In other words life has carried on taking me with it and all in all it's been very good.


As I write these words I am still surprised that it is me who is writing, that it is me who is feeling these positive feelings.  Surely there is some mistake, I will wake up from this dream and find myself mired in my usual anxiety.  Now I can't say that ALL in the garden is lovely.  I still have my crises of confidence, my panic over a new work contract and my horror when I look in the mirror and see, not a young beautiful girl, but a rather wrinkled, overweight old lady and et, and yet, and yet, the order of life is exactly as it is meant and things seem to be workig out just fine.


PLEASE LET ME ADD NEW INFORMATION HERE:  
It is now a few weeks after I originally wrote this upbeat report of where I'm at and since then a few things have changed.  I still feel strong and resilient, but I have taken a major knock to my confidence.  The work contract I took on began this past week and went really badly.  A combination of an organisation in chaos and my lack of experience in the area of work I undertook meant that for the first time I can remember, my work didn't go well.  I was and still am, to some extent, very shaken up by this and very distressed by how much this has disturbed my equilibrium.  I feel like I've been in a car accident - battered, bruised and hurt.  There are many reasons why the work didn't go well and to be honest, less than half the fault lies with me, but that still leaves a chunk of poor quality work that falls at my feet and it sure feels bad.


When I was originally offered this work I said no.  I knew this was not my area of expertise and in my gut I felt that I was not the right person to do this work.  I allowed myself to be convinced otherwise and seduced by the size of the contract.  I guess I am upset with myself for putting myself into a position where I took on something I should not have taken on.  I should have trusted my original reaction and stuck to my no.  Instead of that I am sitting in my house feeling absolutely dismal and trying desperately to make it ok.  It will be ok, but right now, it doesn't feel that way.


ALLOW ME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT!
Not only am I taking part in the Ecstatic Chant at the Omega Institute this year, but I am also booked to participate in an intense and important retreat.  It is a retreat of bearing witness in... Auschwitz.  Let me explain this and in explaining I know I can get clearer for myself on what I think this means to me. 


I have known about this retreat for almost three years.  Each year the pull to take part has grown stronger and this year I could no longer ignore the call to be there. It is a 5 day retreat organised by a group called Zen Peacemakers and led by a Buddhist Roshi (master) named Bernie Glassman.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrxgPhWFquo  


Every year for over 15 years he has led multi-faith groups in bearing witness in the grounds of Auschwitz.  Each day is structured and involves meditation, sharing, prayer and time to process what happens.  Rather than sounding morbid, it feels to me to be a journey of healing and as Glassman puts it, 're-membering', putting back together the unhealed past.  For me this feels like the culmination of so many years of having come to terms with my parents' past and having deeply understood that the purpose of remembering is to heal and honour those who died in the Holocaust by making the world a good place to live in.  In some small way I fully believe that taking part in this retreat is my next step.  It is my 'enlightenment intensive'.  How to explain something that is based so strongly on a magnetic pull of the heart, something that is beyond words and beyond rationale.  


I could never imagine going on a day trip to Auschwitz with some tour group.  I have often thought about visiting Poland.  As my father is reaching the end of his life and his spark of life is getting dimmer, it seems that this is the absolute right time for me to undertake such a big step.  I trust totally that this is a positive thing to do and also, I feel very courageous right now.  I am ready for this.


I will write more about my thoughts on this since it helps me to clear anything in the way and also I am aware that my 'retreat time' has already started.  From the moment I booked the group, the flight and the hotel, I have begun a process. Right now it feels a long time until the retreat begins at the end of October, but I know that at my age, time seems to fly by.


I am happy to be writing again.  It makes me smile to sit here and tap away at my new nifty little computer and pour out my ranting.  It makes me happy even though the main reason I started to write again was that I did a poor piece of work.  I will try to be kind to myself and not beat myself too badly over it and watch it pass.


I welcome myself back to the world of words...

Not waving...but drowning

Below is what I wrote two days ago.  I feel completely differently today, but still wanted to leave this as an introduction to the upheaval and personal tsunami that has washed through me over the last couple of days.  I have been completely unprepared for these feelings and will elucidate after these calm and rather plaintively boring paragraphs...

I want to write, today, yesterday and almost every day.  Last year it seemed so easy to pour out all my thoughts and feelings and just let things flow and to hell with where it all ended up.  This year I have felt much more constrained and have spent quite some time planning blog entries and then abandoning them because they had no spontaneity or meaningful content. The self-consciousness feels like I have bitten the forbidden fruit and have now been banished from the proverbial garden. I have to change this immediately.


This weekend I was reading something about writing by Philip Pullman.  He advised budding writers to just write.  Set aside a certain time each day and write even if you believe you have nothing to say and do this every day until you've created a new habit.  Well, that's just what I did last year.  I created a habit.  I addicted myself to writing and I am finding it very tough to not write, but I do feel I have run out of things to say. This seems an impossibility.  I never, ever run out of inane chatter, meaningless conversation or words that come falling out of my mouth, so why now, is it so different?


Last year the commitment I made to myself was to use my writing as a way of resolving my seasonal depression.  It was a straightforward way of self-examination.  I saw patterns and spirals of anxiety I was travelling down and the act of writing down these thoughts allowed me to distance myself from the magnetic pull of the winter misery.  Along the way I started to tell 'my story', a bit of my life history and the things that I find important.  Sometimes I surprised myself with the results in print.  it helped me to re-define who I am and re-think what my priorities are.

... And so here I am a few days later, watching the television news, reading the BBC web site and listening in open-mouthed horror to the events in Japan.  So much death, such destruction seems impossible for my mind to comprehend and I feel such an overwhelming sense of sadness and despair.  At the same time as this is going on in the outside world I also feel my own waves of sadness.  For reasons I can guess at, I have suddenly been engulfed with tears and more tears every time I think about my dad.  He is still alive and being well-cared for in the home he is in in Connecticut. At this moment my father is in a steady decline which is not unexpected.  My dad really doesn't have much awareness anymore.  He hardly speaks. He doesn't know who he is or anyone else, he is wheelchair-bound and fed by helpers. His language appears to be leaving him and he occasionally speaks in a gibberish combination of Yiddish/English/nonsense.

I cannot bear to imagine him locked into life in this way.  If he could let us know his wishes I know he would not want to carry on in this manner.  I wish I could press a button or pull a switch to make his present life stop and yet, there is no choice, or at least the choice is not mine to make, it is his.What is causing me so much anguish is the contrast between who he is now and my 'real' dad - the alive, spirited Pop that I hold in my heart and whom I already miss so much.

In addition to these unexpected feelings, the events in Japan over the past days have brought me such profound sadness and a palpable pain in my heart.  It is easy to fall into the sinking spiral of helplessness and at the same time I feel my spirit soaring with so much love and sending out so much healing to all those in need, also remembering to send the same level of healing and compassion and caring to myself.  I think this is really important right now.  All of us who are praying and meditating and caring  for those in need also need to direct those prayers and meditations and care towards ourselves. We need to stay strong in our love for each other, in order to strengthen those around us. I am drowning in sadness and floating in love...

In the words of Gandhi:

"When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall ? think of it, always."
	Gandhi

Optimistic or mad?

This morning when I woke up I felt so remarkably relaxed that I felt like I was inhabiting the body of a stranger.  I was up before 6 am and standing at the ironing board a few minutes later.  As I had promised I ironed a shirt for my beloved husband and then carried on ironing and even repairing some of my own clothing.  After that I stopped, prepared my yummy healthy breakfast of blueberries, cottage cheese and almonds and sat down to watch early morning television.  The sense of relaxation stayed with me and I slowly pulled my morning self together and showered and dressed ready to face the outside world. "No rush", I thought as I laid down again for another half hour of internet browsing and musing about the day.  Eventually I went out, did some food shopping, pottered around in some second-hand  shops, chatted to my old lady friend for a while and finally finished up in a local cafe with a coffee and danish pastry while I perused the daily papers.  I cannot remember feeling so unpressured, so chilled and deserving of such a morning.

"Who are you?" What have to done with the real Cynthia?"  This is not the person I recognise at all.  I heard myself chatting to a local shopkeeper who was complaining about the continuing cold weather and I actually said I like these days of late winter and early Spring.  After all, Spring is just over the horizon and there is a wonderful feeling of expectancy in the air. "Who is this person saying these things?  What have they done with the glass-half-empty Cynthia?" I even suggested to one of my regular shopkeeper contacts that I was a bit worried that I was bi-polar and maybe this was the beginning of the manic phase?

Now that I sit back and reflect on where this unfamiliar optimism comes from I think I begin to understand a bit more.  Today I woke up with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. I am aware of all the things in my life that are really pretty wonderful and just for this moment I forgot to take them for granted. In this mood of warmth, nostalgia and gratefulness I thought I would like to begin to make one of those lists that the many self-help books on my shelves suggest are a good idea, so here goes:

• I am grateful for my children. For having a beautiful, strong, courageous daughter who goes through life facing every challenge with strength and beauty and for being loving and caring and open always. For having a son who is warm, loving, responsible and funny and a man of integrity. I am grateful for the love that they inspire in me and give and receive from me and to me.  This is a rare blessing.
• I am grateful for my husband, Ralph.  Loving him has taught me more about myself than I would have been brave enough to learn on my own.  Not only is he the best schoolteacher that any child could wish for, he has also been my teacher and helped me to become the person I was always meant to be. My heart almost bursts when I allow this love.
• I am grateful for my beautiful, chaotic, cluttered, dusty home.  My home is a safe haven for me . When the world feels dark and insecure my home always feels like a lovely security blanket.  It's big and sprawling and filled with my history and I love it.
• I am grateful for the knowledge that I can create this safe haven in another place.  if I need to move, sell these four walls, I am delighted that I know I can do it again.  I am certain that I can create another nest because I will always have that ability.
• I am grateful for the ability to express myself creatively.  Whether it is through words, since I love to talk, or in writing, painting, sculpting, knitting, sewing, cooking or singing, I can express myself well and sometimes really beautifully.
• I am grateful for the work I do and the people I connect with through this work.  I am grateful that I have some small part in changing the world in a positive way and for being able to guide people towards a greater appreciation of each other.
• I am grateful for all the people I love, for friends and family and all my teachers.  I have a blessed life.  I am lucky to be able to live in such an easy way.  I have more than enough and am slowly, at the ripe old age of 61, learning to relax and enjoy.
• I am so grateful that it is not too late to learn that life is so good.
• I am grateful for today.