Tag Archives: feelings

THE STORM, SHEBA AND SLEEP

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We had another thunderstorm last evening. The rain hammered fiercely on the roof. It was noisy. Sheba was either too tired from the night before or else she was not bothered by the energy of this storm. She did perked up from her pillow, wandered about warily, going to the door, listening to the rain and thunder. But she did settled back on her pillow after some reassurance and petting.

The rain stopped before bedtime. We went to bed and all had a good night’s sleep. Not a peep from Sheba. How wonderful sleep felt after a night without. It is the best medicine. I felt strung out all day yesterday with the kind of tired that doesn’t let you sleep. I was a walking zombie for lack of a better description. It felt like somebody had died. It felt like a depression. I felt like behaving badly. I didn’t because I knew better.

I’m not one who rises singing. I felt like it this morning. But my lack of sleep the other night still affected my mood through the day. It went in and out. I felt pesky and irritated at times, wanting to act out. I didn’t but accepted my moodiness. I let myself feel whatever came up. I didn’t squish or squash them. They were left to do a slow simmer inside while I behaved my best on the outside. I am becoming a good Buddhist. Thank you, Pema Chodron for your wisdom.

It’s a beautiful day after the 2 rains. The temperature is perfect, with a light breeze. I could sit on the deck in the middle of afternoon. It was wonderful in my outdoor studio, painting my little index cards. Sheba is always nearby, the birds chirping in the cedars and I have my cuppa. I take care not to dip my brushes in it instead of the water. I sometimes struggle with the prompts for Daisy Yellow ICAD Challenge. But today they just came. It was so much fun, so satisfying.

Now it is getting to be almost 9 in the evening. It is still light, a splash of pale sun against the garage wall. It is so calm, a mellow yellow and tender evening. I can sit here and gaze at it forever if it lasts. But soon the light will disappear. Dusk will come, followed by the dark of the night. It is time for me to finish though it feels like I have a ton of conversation left in me. Nothing exciting or profound. They’re just the little stuff of this ordinary life. They’re as elusive as the butterfly and they fly away as quickly. I will have to wait for another day to catch them again.

MUTTERINGS ON A RAINY DAY

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Beginnings are damned hard! Look at how long we had to wait for the rain. There were days, weeks, months of possibilities of rain. It finally came today, our first real rain on this 20th day of June. We rushed onto the deck to witness and rejoice.

I feel somewhat akin to the dammed up sky, full of possibilites but unable to deliver. It’s a most uncomfortable and perplexing feeling. I’ve had days, weeks and maybe months of this. I hope I don’t have to wait till winter before I can unleash my whatever it is. It will be such a fury by then. I wonder if I’m a manic depressive. Hmm. Or it is just my ADHD symptons of trouble organizing and starting a task having a field day.

I’m trying to relax, gather and organize my thoughts so as not to waste time and energy going every which way. That is one of my handicaps. In between gaps here, I’ve vacuumed a couple of rooms and washed some Chinese broccoli for our lunch. My attention span is short and jerky. Doing some 4-7-8 breathing helps to relax and slow me down to concentrate better. The exercise has many other benefits of sleeping better, relieving anxiety and improving cardiovascular health. It takes only minutes in a day.

I have to make more of an effort in showing up here. I’ve said that a few times already, haven’t I? I know what to do but sometimes I can’t do it. I need a visual, physical written out agenda. That’s what this blog is for me, a roadmap, my GPS for my daily life. I need to get up, dress up, show up and tap here regularly for my mental and physical health. When I tap out my thoughts, wonderings, wishings, doings, it makes grooves and    pathways in my brain to guide me. They anchor and comfort me. I can see by the words, sentences and photos that I have not been idle and useless. I have been busy living my life as best as I can.

I’ve been feeling stuck, immobile, yucky and not getting anywhere. Sometimes feelings can be false and misleading. Somehow amidst all these feelings, I have put in a flower bed, a garden, raised vegetable beds, and a few flower pots here and there. The moral of the story is not to believe all your feelings. They can be your saboteurs.

IN THE CUL-DE-SAC

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I should listen to my own advice about starting. It’s not that I don’t want to. Sometimes I have to go through the period of being stalled, being hung in limbo, midair, not wanting to commit. Call it what you will. Maybe it’s my ritual of some sort. It’s good to have rest periods. I do feel an obligation not to waste time, to fill every moment of useful doings.

I’ve been caught in the limbo of not doing for days now. Every evening I catch myself saying, I will start in the morning. In the morning I find it is so much easier to sink into tomorrow is another day. It’s not that I’ve been a couch potato. On the contrary I’ve been on the ‘busy routine’ of living every day, doing the famous ‘busy stuff’ that everyone does.

It’s not that I have so many important things to do or to contribute. It’s that I’ve been  stuck in the cul-de-sac of lassitude, of not caring, of not having meaning, of not being important, of not being present. Perhaps it is called feeling sorry for myself or being in a depressive mood. My favourite excuse is that summer is not my favourite season. It brings out not so good memories of growing up in small town Saskatchewan. Everyone in town goes away to the lake or wherever on holidays, except the Chinese people who has the cafe. Oh, I remember those hot summer days of watching flies drone against the window screen and looking out at the empty dusty streets.

It’s strange how memories live in the very marrow of me. They are hidden deep inside and seep out on hot summer days. No need to worry about me. It’s just the way I talk/write. It’s healthy to be curious and investigate my feelings. It’s good to lay them down on the page in black and white. These ebb and flow of feelings are part of being alive. Feelings come and go like the tide. It’s like breathing in and out. Some are good and some not so. I’m still learning to accept them all, to sit with them as I must.

I’ve been reading Pema Chodron’s The Places That Scare You. I’m learning about Bodhichitta, being a warrior and staying in those scary places. It’s helping me to finally relax into life and not take things so seriously. Life is serious but things are not. I’m seeing the light now. Times when I don’t will come again. I have the words now. They could go away tomorrow. It’s all a cyle, the yin and the yan. That’s what I know for sure.

 

WHEN THINGS FALL APART

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Some days are harder to show up than others. I meant to come yesterday. When that didn’t happen I was trying for this morning but somehow I lost my way here. Distractions, thoughts, feelings, putting off and avoidance all contribute. It is always so much easier to go with the flow, not commit and not show up. But I am finally here in the after glow of supper and wine.

I have to admit that I’m feeling the boogeyman again.He shows up now and again. I’m awashed with the heebie jeebies. I’m ok though. I’m not off and running away to anywhere. I tell myself to stay. It’s just sensations.  I’ve been practicing and applying mindfulness. It’s such synchronicity that I am reading Pema Chodron’s When Things Fall Apart at this time, too. She tells us that fear and anxiety are all part of being human along with all the other emotions. They all serve a purpose. I am learning to see my feelings in a different way, trying not to label them as good or bad and not trying to rid them.  I am the guest house as in Rumi’s poem.

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

I could say that I have been falling apart for quite awhile now. I do not consider it a bad thing. There was great pain with the shattering of what I was that no longer worked. Pain is a great teacher. It is also very cleansing. It sweeps out all the debris. After the pain subsides, I feel such sweetness and I can see so much clearer. It is a time for reconstructing, putting back the parts of myself that I like and the parts that works. This is not to say that I will live happily ever after or that the boogeyman is vanquished forever. I am sure there will be more falling apart. The next time the boogeyman comes, I will think of him as Mr. Sandman. He is less edgy and much more friendly.

DREAMS AND SCREAMS

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January 25, 2019  7:41 pm

It is later than I like. What should I talk about today? I feel a bit pressured, under the gun. Last night I dreamt that we were in Sri Lanka with my friend. We were at some kind of buffet. It was a bit weird as things are in dreams are. Most of the dishes were of some kind of rice. I didn’t have any Sri Lankan money. I didn’t buy any before the trip because I could get some from my friend, right? I woke up then. I told the guy about it. It reminded him that my friend had phoned yesterday when I was out. He had forgotten to tell me. That didn’t really surprised me. But what did was when I talked to my friend later in the morning. She said she was going to Sri Lanka on Sunday.

Oh, wow! I thought. I really should trust myself more in these matters. I’m the woman who saw ghosts when I was a little girl in China. I felt ghosts sitting and immobolizing me as an adult. I doubted myself, thinking they were just dreams. Once when it happened, I tried to prove I was awake and not dreaming. I blinked my eyes several times. I tried to scream but no sound came out. Then I tried to reach my bedside lamp to turn it on. I couldn’t quite reach my switch but I knocked it over. Or so I thought. Just then the pressure lifted and I could move freely. The lamp was still on the dresser, intact. I had felt my cat jumped off the bed when the lamp fell but it must have been my scream that sent it scampering. I will never know the truth of anything since I was alone in those times. I do now know that when I’m screaming silently in my dreams, they are not in the real world.

This afternoon I inadvertently found my safety deposit box. I asked the guy to move the VCR up from the basement to our upstairs TV. I went down to help him unhook it. My eyes landed on the teapot on the shelf above it. The knowing that the key could be there flash through my mind. Have you ever had those flashings. It’s just like in the comic books. I looked and fished around the teapot. Underneath some rolled up coins was the key. I would never have found it if I had gone on an intent search for it. Now I know to trust those feelings of mine.

HAVE I NEVER BEEN MELLOW

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November 25, 2018  8:15 am

I’ve been up for 3 hours already. It’s one of those early morning wakings when I couldn’t get back to sleep. It’s best to rise than to lay there thinking useless and maybe harmful thoughts. Sheba rose with me but then decided to go back to bed till way past her usual time. She didn’t come out till almost 7 and laid down on her pillow in the living room. She didn’t fuss for her breakfast. I thought maybe she got fed somehow.

That wasn’t the case though. She hadn’t. She must have sensed that I needed peace and quiet. Aren’t our pets precious? She is so intuitive and a comfort. She is my pillow, my blanket and cuddly bear. She is my best friend and the child I never had. This morning I had to ask if she wants to eat, a first ever. The answer was Yes!

Olivia Newton John’s song Have You Never Been Mellow has been playing in my head.

Have you never been mellow?
Have you never tried to find a comfort from inside you?
Have you never been happy just to hear your song?
Have you never let someone else be strong?

Seeing the words and questions on the page, I have to say No, I’ve never been or I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt that. Mostly I’ve been feeling hostile, angry and dissatified. Why mince feelings and words?  Sometimes I feel demons walking over my grave. Waves of unease and sadness wash over me. I want to cry. I feel such loneliness as if I’m the last human on earth. I’m that one hand clapping, the echo unheard. I want to act out but who’s here to notice? So I do not. I take a deep breath and try to change my thoughts – to change my feelings. I do not try to ‘fix’ anything. Fixing does not work except to make me feel worse.

Amid all the questions and feelings I do hear my adult voice. It’s telling me not to believe all these. It’s not who you really are, it tells me. You are hurting and harming yourself believing them. Choose another way to be. I have to listen to its wisdom. Another way is quietening myself. I try to focus on things that work. I concentrate on the mechanics of doing. Trying to figure out the ‘how’ of doing something engages my mind in the ‘doing’ and away from ‘feeling’. I have to be careful that the project is not too complex. That would only result in frustration.

Writing, tapping out the words, problems and feelings is my best bet. I find rhythm in flexing my fingers on the keyboard. It eases and releases tension. They are breathing in and out for me. Somehow solutions come along with the tapping. Cleaning house is therapeutic. Dusting is soothing. I’ve gotten not to mind vacuuming with my Dyson stick. I’m quite proficient at it. It doesn’t feel like such a chore any more. I’m getting some pleasure from having a dog hair free house. I’m killing several birds with one stone.

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ANOTHER WALK, ANOTHER DAY

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It’s a very dreary, dreary day. I’m not looking forward to taking Sheba out for her walk but I will. If I give in to my rathers, I am sure I will come apart like a house of cards. I was thinking how difficult everything is this morning on the way to my appointment with my gynecologist. Getting out the door to anywhere feels stressful. Having to be on time. Having to find parking. I circle and circle. Then I’m in the examining room. I’m staring up at the bright lights in the ceiling, trying not to fall off the slanting chair. Then I see all those glistening metal instruments sitting on the cart next to me. Hmmm.

It all turned out. I’m good till next year. The medical resident working with him asked me, Aren’t you happy? I replied, I’m happy. She laughed because my face doesn’t show it. She’s one of those really bright, cheery and beautiful women you would love to hate. You can’t because she is so darn nice. So I mumbled something about it being morning. There was no need to explain or expand. I couldn’t. It is what it is.

So here I am, trying to tap out a few words, trying to do something. I have to try even if I don’t feel like it. It took me the longest time to get the lunch dishes done. I moaned and groaned. Everything felt twice as bad when it shouldn’t at all. I cannot understand it. I don’t try. I just do. I got the Roomba going while I was doing the dishes. Sheba is dropping clumps of hair and tracking in dirt. They magnify in my mind’s eye when I’m feeling thus.

I’m not complaining, just talking myself into moving and doing. We’ve just come back from our walk in a light drizzle. We did it. We didn’t melt in the rain. Our paws our wiped clean and dry. Another walk. Another day. I wish I have something more profound to say but this is it.

 

 

THE WHY AND WHEREFORE

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It would be bliss if I could stop my thoughts at will. As it is, they go round and round chasing each other in my head. I feel as if I’m regurgitating the same ones over and over. You would think I was a cow chewing my cud. My thoughts of late: Why am I am doing this? What is the point? What is the use?

It’s my bored, SAD, disillusioned, morose, tired voices speaking the last few days. The news last night about the genocide in Myanmar gave me second thoughts. It made me think about the plight of the Rohingya refugees. What gives them purpose I wonder? I felt ashamed of my despondency. Here I was, sitting in front of the TV in the warmth and comfort of my own home. I can have light at a flick of a switch, water by turning on the tap. What right do I have to be despondent? What right do I have to moan about my ‘feelings’? I should be doing something useful instead.

There was a time when I felt that we should eliminate ‘shoulds’ from our vocabulary. It was or still is a popular cry. I am easily influenced. It seemed to make sense at the time. How ridiculous is that? As if eliminating would absolve us from our responsibilities. Because really there are so many things that we should and shouldn’t do. I can’t really give good examples at the moment. I’ve been with wine. One glass with supper can do that to me. So more on that at another time. I shouldn’t drink at all.

So what’s the point of what I’ve been doing? Why do I go on and on with my tap, tapping, my paintings, my sewing and all that? What’s the meaning of it all? As I’ve said, I’ve pondered that endlessly during times like this. I feel the drudergy and the dullness of it all. I bore even myself.  I’ve done them almost every day for quite awhile so I can do it even when I’ve lost my luster. These times do pass and the light comes on again. Then I find meaning and beauty in the things I’m doing and have created. And I feel proud that I still can create and tap out some words while moaning and complaining in my head. Sometimes my thoughts are faulty. I try not to believe them all.

 

ON TRACK

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I’m still on track. My dining table is still clear. I know it’s only a few days into September. I should not be crowing success yet but it does cheer me. I will use whatever tools that will help. Getting up, dressing up and showing up every day works. I’m feeling more positive and energized. I wasn’t that way when I woke at 6 this morning. It was still dark. I was stiff and feeling yucky, for lack of a better word. I do not want to stay in this world of yucks. That’s my reason for embarking on my year of inquiry into everything.

I inquire of myself: Is it true? Do I really feel yucky? I tried to sink into that feeling. Then I asked how I would feel if I didn’t believe in that thought. I tell myself my body was just in the motion of waking and warming up. It’s not sick. It’s not depressed. Somehow the questions lifted some of the nauseous heaviness. Yes, nauseous was how yucky felt. At least I’ve identified it.

How are you on rising? Are you one who rises smiling and shining? You are indeed lucky if you are. However, I now believe that I can choose how I feel. I’ve given much lip service to the adage fake it till you make it. Now I’m doing it. If I practice an action enough, it will become a habit. Granted that I am but human, I know I will not be successful all the time. For one thing, it is not always appropriate. Nobody can or should smile and shine in times of a catastrophe or grief. But I can try to be a more positive and silent person. I don’t have to whine so much.

How was your day? My day turned out pretty well after all. The sun was out at 7 am. I took time to drink in all its delight. I let it infuse me with its light. It warmed and soothed my sore spots. It set the tone for the rest of the day. My step was lighter as I left the house for my exercise class. I worked a little harder, stretching a little more to reach that unreachable star. This is my quest. One should always have dreams. And I do.

 

 

 

 

O IS FOR OPTIMISM

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I’m a little late in getting up and dressing up today. I lingered a little longer over Sue Grafton’s G is for Gumshoe this morning. I had trouble putting it down. I love the book cover. I love the character, Kinsey Millhone. I fewl happy and secure in tagging along with her. I’m practicing discipline so I put it down. I went downstairs and hung up the laundry. Then I painted my index card for the 365 Something 2018 Challenge. I was in danger of abandoning it. I had given up on it for a little while. It’s that discipline thing. I completed day 179 this morning.

Then I had trouble wanting to fold up the dried linen. I stood there looking at it. There’s no use trying to understanding it. There’s no need in understanding it. I just have to do it and put it all away. And so I did. I know I am not the only person with such feelings. I can hear different conversations in my memory.

“I don’t know why I don’t do it. I have the things for it. But I don’t do it. I don’t know why. I know I should do it but I don’t.” 

I can hear myself offering advice and suggestions of “Why don’t you try this? Why don’t you try that?”  I was never successful. Nobody ever took my advice/suggestions. I was left feeling pissed off most of the time. Now I’m seeing I’m as guilty as they are but I DO try. I have trouble with keeping it up.

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Yesterday, I talked about metamorphosis. It’s only later that I realize it is kind of retarded for me to talk about it at my age. Do I have time left to morph? I am no spring chicken as they say. I am on a pension for crying out loud. I must be somewhat retarded. My head is still stuck in youth. I’m still thinking about when I grow up. I guess it is not a bad thing. I still have optimism. I have hope. I am still looking forward.

Today I am not quite as sleepy. The sun is out. Most of my ‘must dos’ are done. The rest of the day is just gravy/groovy.