Monthly Archives: June 2018

I, ME, MYSELF – BEING BEST FRIENDS

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My cold and cough are still with me. They do not make for good company in summer – or any other time of year. Like all bad company, they’re hanging on. My coughing fits woke me a few times in the night. In the end I had to get up and sleep on the couch as before. But at least I did sleep.

Life is very difficult with a nasty summer cold and no sleep. But it still has to go on somehow. I still have to get up, dress up and show up. It’s not an easy task even on an ‘ordinary’ day. Being susceptible to the ‘blues’, I’m being watchful, taking care not to let this take me down the path of depression. I’m alerted to the dangers of the brain not working properly. Anybody can be victims as we’ve seen in recent days with the suicides of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade. Being a celebrity chef and a fashion designer are not free tickets to life happily ever after.

There’s no shame in depression. There’s no shame in failing to thrive at all times. I just feel bad and annoyed at myself sometimes for the depression. Because really, it is very inconvenient. There’s things I have/want to do. It gets in the way. I’m learning to accept my ‘down’ times. I think my body and brain are telling me they need a rest. I think I better listen. They know me best. If I, me and myself don’t take care of each other, no one will. We are our best friends.

 

 

HUMILITY – The Fall and Rise of the Phoenix

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I wonder why I always feel I have to fix everything that is not right. I don’t. I was told by a therapist that I am not that powerful. I am not. But somehow that feeling is so persistent. I wonder when and how I got the job of being God? I am sucking on a Fisherman’s lozenge and tapping out my ire. Did you know that I could suck on a lozenge and do my swimmer’s breathing under water at the same time. I can. That is my one and only unique talent.

The good news is I’m feeling physically better. My cough has abated with the help of an inhaler. My doctor gave me a sampler – Zenhale. It has earned its name. My breathing is much more zen. No more wheezing. The bad news is that the inhaler is not covered by the drug plan and costs about $125 – $140. The sampler has 60 puffs and I’ve used 6. I have 54 puffs left. 4 more puffs tomorrow and I should be good – for the year, I hope.

I do have other good news. I’m getting better at problem solving. After reading so many of Sue Grafton’s novels, I’m learning a few detective tricks on sleuthing and organizing. I’m using Kinsey’s Millhone’s idea of jotting down important notes on index cards. I’m actually getting my life in order that way. Caroline Myss’ teachings are true wisdom. Her putting your head in the toilet for 7 minutes have snapped me out of ‘feeling sorry for myself blues’ over and over. Her blunt, bare bone honesty has enough humour that makes what she says tolerable. She can be harsh but she gives good counsel.

Times that I find myself so distraught, I would have done so many silly and maybe harmful things – had I not heard her voice in my ear. Go ahead, eat that ice cream. You might feel better for the moment. But…she lost that one. I did eat some delicious hot chocolate sundae. Her voice was not harsh enough. I did listen to the haircut one. I could be sorry. Even if I’m not, does that change anything? Buying something expensive and extravagant – hah! What does that fix except a bigger hole in your expense? Go put your head in the toilet for 7 minutes! And so that 7 minutes was walking off my distress. Then I was fine. I looked into all the stores and saw all the junk. I don’t want to buy any of that.

The lesson I’ve learned over and over is I don’t have to fix everything right now or at all. I can’t make all bad feeling go away. They don’t have to go. They can stay where they are. I can walk away from them leave them behind. Who says I have to carry them around?

It is the next afternoon. I’m eating apple pie and drinking tea. I can’t say that I feel on top of the world but I’m aiming for it. My success is probably minimal. Pessimistic, I know. My cold is still hanging on, though not with deep hooks. I find laying down to sleep is still a problem so I will have to do the best I can. But my attitude SUCKS.

My biggest problem is that I accept all the blame for everything that goes wrong. You see it is about my so felt inadequacies, my jealousies, my lack of generosity and kindness, my selfishness and meanness, my obsession with taking things personally. How many times do I have to kick myself in the teeth? Shall I come to you on wounded knees? Shall I beg for forgivenness and redemption? Am I really guilty of all these infractions? Is it really true? Shall I give up ‘all my, though not really mine fault’ so that I can feel happier? So how the hell am I going to do that? I suppose now I have to figure that out.

One thing I have learnt well is to speak in the first person singular – always. It is all about me. It is not about blame. It is all about bringing clarity to mind. It is all about being vulnerable. I do tell – but it is on me. I’m learning about humility – the falling and rising of the Phoenix. What I know for sure if you come upon an obstacle/problem, you can skirt it, jump/fly over it, pretend it is not there, whatever…There are no magic tricks to make it go away. The only solution is to solve it. Don’t ask me how.

RISING LIKE THE PHOENIX

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I’m just getting past that God awful feeling again, grateful it was transient. It was the worst I’ve ever felt. I was on the verge of a panic attack but I maintained my cool. I am remembering other times struggling out of the stupors of sleep after a night shift. My mouth and throat are dry and tasting of old dirty socks, my head heavy and thick with wrong- time-of-day sleep. My chest felt tight. It was hard to breathe. Memory helped to put me in a familiar though and less distressing space.

That was a few days ago. I try to practice good mental hygiene of showing up so I don’t fall through the cracks. I like to be that dandelion, thriving in whatever soil I am in. But as you can see, I had succumbed to my physcial fragility – the dreadful summer cold. It is okay. Now like the Phoenix, I’m rising from my ashes into my new self. I see that this life journey is circular, ever changing from one stage into the next. I hope for seamless transitions and no heartbreaks. But who can guarantee that?

Wanting to be like the Phoenix, I did some research on this mythical creature. What are its characteristics that makes it so desirable?

“A mythical bird that never dies, the phoenix flies far ahead to the front, always scanning the landscape and distant space. It represents our capacity for vision, for collecting sensory information about our environment and the events unfolding within it. The phoenix, with its great beauty, creates intense excitement and deathless inspiration.” – The Feng Shui Handbook, feng shui Master Lam Kam Chuen

Since I’m Chinese, I like the Chinese Phoenix (Feng Huang)version.Strange what eating at a new Chinese restaurant will wake up in you. On Sunday we paid our yearly respects to our ancestors at the cemetry. In earlier years my mother would prepare and order food to take there. We would light incense, burn paper money and pour libations. Afterwards we would have a picnic there. It is a nice tradition. But as my mother is aging, she is no longer as strong and able to do all that. She streamlined the customs to make it easier for us later. My mother is very practical. Now we take flowers and do our bows before our grandparents graves. Our picnic is in a restaurant now – The Phoenix House.

I do feel as if I am the Phoenix. I have a sense of flying overhead, scouting the territory, gathering information. Often I have information coming and pinging me in the forehead. I felt and heard the ping. I wonder if that is what is meant by the term pingback. I want to practice the art of silence and watchfulness. I want to be a better Phoenix.

Today I do feel I am finally on the road to feeling better. I know, I’ve said that almost every day and got knocked down again and again. For insurance, I’m checking in with a medical doctor in a couple of hours. It seems that nasty cough can still comes back and whollops me a good one. I want to arm myself for the next time.

PURGING WITH GRACE

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The road to health is a tough one. I’m into my second week of scratchy throat turning into nasty coughing up my guts. How many mornings have I started out thinking, Oh, I think I’m getting better only to find myself feeling God awful in a couple of hours. I did the same this morning. I felt a DEFINITE change. I felt very hopeful. Everything was rattling loose. I have something to blow out of my nose. I only wheeze when I lay down. But sure enough, after breakfast and after doing 2 little paintings, I succumbed to the God awful state. I got out my dynamite tea, my own dug up and dried dandelion roots from last fall. They were the last of my supply.

No need to say that I am not at all cheerful lately. Was I ever? It’s a good time/or not a good time to trash myself. Do I need to wound myself further.? Of course not! I’m giving up wounding altogether. There’s enough pain in the world already. I need not add to it. I need to purge it all from myself since I can’t do anything about anybody else. Oh excuse me, I’m having another fit of coughing. I’m on my last Fisherman’s Lozenges. I had two bags but can’t find the other. Oh, well. I have to resort to the lemon drops. The only thing is they make my teeth feel funny after sucking on them. I have LOTS of them. Funny how that’s always the case.

Back to trashing myself now that I’ve brought it up. I’m thinking my negativity and other shortcomings must be the reason I’m down and still down for the count. It’s really tough for me to let go of anything, even coughing and feeling rotten. It’s not just the clutter I hang on to. There’s comfort in what you know versus what you don’t. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick, tired and hacking. I made the decision to purge that along with other rubbish.

A couple of years ago, Grace was the word I chose for the year. It evolved from a painting exercise I did. The exercise involved painting on the same canvas for 30 days. Though I didn’t quite make it to 30 days, it was pretty close. ‘Grace’ emerged on the canvas on day 22. She looked so happy and smiling. There was a sparkle in her eyes and her face glowed. That was it. She was finished. She hangs on the wall in my recently purged downstairs.

I was looking at her as I laid on the coolness of the leather couch one very hot afternoon. I went, Oh! I think I had painted myself. I am Grace – the desired self I want to be. I thought, In what way am I not that Grace? It’s something that needs more pondering on. I shall leave it on that note for now. It I deserve time to seriously consider why I’m so hard on myself. Maybe at the end of it, I can rid the length of my suffering whenever I get sick. Nurse, heal thyself.