Tag Archives: feelings

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.

collage

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.

# ENCOURAGER SOCIETY

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I’m finally here to see if I can impart some thought, some wee bit of wisdom. Mostly I’m here to tap myself well. It’s not that I am ill or anything.  I am languishing too much. I’ve let go of the glue that binds me. I want to stem the flow before all my goodness is gone. Lately, all that I can feel is the acridness of life. Can it seep into me from the forest fire smokes? It’s not a nice feeling. I want to curl my lips at everything. Sarcasm and cynicism course through me. Where happened to my annoying Pollyanna attitude? I want it back. I miss it.

Life is strange. I feel strange. It’s difficult to find kindred souls to hash it out. It’s not that I am afraid to talk. On the contrary. I tend to talk too much – but not to the right people. It’s gets me into trouble sometimes. The right ones are seldom visible. Not many are brave or generous enough to share face to face. I am happy to find a group of young and not so young women on social media who can and does talk about their experiences and feelings. They tag their posts with #encouragersociety. Bravo to them.

I don’t think it’s all about bravery or generosity that prevents people from talking and sharing. It also takes an enormous amount of energy. It does for me – to be present here and tapping out my words. I have this huge feeling of sleepiness. I would much rather lay on the couch with my tea and read my book. I would really like to just sit and close my eyes, not thinking or doing. It’s taking me two days to write this post. Finish today, I must.

I am sure that the approaching autumn and the shortening of days are affecting me. I am not usually bubbling over with energy or glee. That is not my natural self but I’m usually more alive than this. While I don’t think I am totally glum, I really have to work at feeling joy. I have to dig into self-help books. It makes me feel not so alone or weird to hear another express it on Instagram. On top of that she encourage others to keep on, that they’re doing great. Yes, encouraging each other helps alot. It helps to be reminded that we have a tricky brain. Everything passes. So carry on and pass it on. Light each other’s torch.

Mission accomplished. I can go back to my book. An easy read by Joy Fielding – The Bad Daughter. Ironically the main character is a therapist who gets bad anxiety attacks. Not very good reviews but it is easy reading. Works for my malfunctioning brain.

 

 

 

IN SILENCE AND STILLNESS

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How was your day? Mine’s just fine. It’s sunny and hot – 30 degrees Celsius. By now I’m acclimatized. It feels quite comfortable. The skies are clear, almost blue. No smell of smoke in the air though the fires continue to burn in British Columbia. Out of sight. Not quite out of mind but I’m feeling fine. Most recent mornings, I’m imperceptibly on the verge of tumbling over the edge. But I do have a choice on how I feel to a certain extent.

I do not want to fall into the dark abyss. I pull myself back from the edge onto firm safe ground. Even if I’m not exactly jubilant, I can be at ease. I don’t have to be bubbling over with good cheer. I’m not that way normally. So why fake it? I try to make a habit of putting some efforts to start the day consciously – in my demeanor and speech. Sometimes Most of the time I’m lazy and everything is a reaction, not a response. It’s a sure way of getting into trouble.

I’ll see how this change will work for me. So many things to think of. I wouldn’t have thought that life could be this strenuous. It never lets up nor would I want it to. It gives meaning having to work at it constantly. It gives meaning to the phrase ‘asleep at the wheel’. I have nodded off now and again. I guess that’s how things work. The momentum is ever changing. Nothing stays the same. What goes up must come down.

It’s been a glorious day. The first day in a long while that I could sit out in my special space. No extreme heat nor smoke to mar it. The dog and I took advantage to just sit/lay back and enjoy the moment in silence and stillness. There’s no need for noise. We hope you enjoy your day, too.

SUMMER TIME BLUES

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I’m just passed my least favourite part of the day – lunch and its aftermath. I don’t know why that is. Today is the worst. I haven’t fully recovered from my cold. I still have that occasional hard to shake cough, echoing head and the weak in the legs fatigue. I’ve been to the doctor 4 times this month though not all were related to my cold. The garden is begging some TLC. I’ve been poking at it, not even managing to weed my 2 rows of peas along the fence. They’re getting choked out by self-seeded cilantro and weeds. They’re also crying for water though it had rained the other day.

It’s been this kind of a summer. I’m feeling its blues. How could I not? I could be the poster woman for the all year round depressive. No, I’m not ashamed or afraid to talk about it. Maybe I should be  but what’s there to be afraid or ashamed of? I’m acknowledging my feelings and seeking solutions. I’m trying to engage my left brain and right brain in a dialogue with each other. Two halves can make a whole. Two heads are better than one. More is better. I’m trying to console myself. Self love. Talk about euphemism! I’m on a roll.

I think the after lunch dirty dishes, pots and pans are symbols of the mess of life to me. When I look at the whole enchilada scattered on the counters, I just want to close my eyes. My God, how in the hell can I put everything right again? I feel whipped with fatigue and helplessness. There’s nothing to do except sigh and move however I can and at whatever speed I can.

I am always delight in fooling my feelings. I take pleasure in showing them up. I can do more even though they sit on me and try to pull me down in the deep dark hole. Sometimes it seem like I’m moving like a robot. Mechanical is ok. I keep moving until things are done. The dishes, pots and pans are washed. The mess in the fridge calls out to me. I can hear it even with the door closed. That’s the thing. I know it’s there even when I can’t see it. I’ve learned I can rest better when I answer its call. It’s not difficult after all.

I know it’s summer and it’s holiday time. I think I’m suppose to be happy, carefree and having a whole lot of fun. But I was never that kind of a girl. I’m not that kind of a woman. Growing up as a child of immigrant parents in a small town, summer was never what I called ‘fun’. It was lonely. School was over and it seems the whole town was away on holidays except for us. That was my perception at the time.

That is my perception today, too. Everybody is on holidays and having fun, except me. The difference now is I know IT IS NOT TRUE. It’s just my blues vocal of the moment. Tomorrow I could be singing a different tune.

 

THE GREAT SALINE SOLUTION

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Summer is overrated. That’s what I think. Sometimes I feel mean spirited, like Lady Tremaine, Cinderella’s wicked stepmother. Am I, though? Is it true? Is it really true? That’s the question Byron Katie would ask. Am I mean spirited and wicked or am I just expressing how I am feeling about summer? Am I putting a monkey wrench into others’ summers? Then what about those people who hate winter?

Framed by those questions, I am not Lady Tremaine. I’m not out to spoil another’s summer. I am not feeling super duper cartwheeling happy at the moment. I am experiencing a pollen attack the last few days. My ribs are sore from coughing. My throat, constricted, itching and ready to cough my stomach contents out. My tongue feels burnt from sucking Fisherman’s Lozenges. What are they made of? I cannot blame myself for feeling miserable. I don’t lay my miseries on anyone but I’m guessing I’m not pleasant company.

I’m watching all those winged maple and poplar seeds flying through the air in great gusts. I haven’t seen such  big infestations as this year. They look like swarms of bees or other flying insects. They could be geese flying south but it’s the wrong time of the year. Nothing is the same anymore. Were they ever? I better tell myself to suck it up, buttercup. Better get use to it. The world has never been as it is now. It is truly amazing times we are living in. That is what Caroline Myss keeps saying. She is my guru.

Not to make myself a complete sour puss, I am feeling somewhat better. I started gargling with warm salty water since yesterday. My throat is not so tight. My cough can turn over now. The great saline solution! No wonder salt was such an important commodity in India back in the days when  Ghandi led their independence movement against the British. The saline solution is valuable today, too. As an intraveous solution, I see that it’s cheap to make. According to a 1993 source it fluctuates between 44 cents to a $1. But to buy is another thing. $85 for 500 mls. and $42.00 for a liter. Nothing about medical supplies costs makes sense.

That, as they say, is par for the course. Nothing much is making sense to me now. I’ll have to wait till my head clears. Maybe by then my throat would have lost its grip. I can talk then instead of croak. I better get some rest. My sleep has been interrupted by intermittent coughing fits in the night. Grrrr!

NO BRAIN SURGERY TODAY

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Wonder Woman

There’s anxiety and fear in going forward. But there is boredom and frustrations waking up to the same old, same old every day. So I ask myself, Are you a woman or a mouse? I choose the first. I don’t have to roar like Helen Redding. I don’t have to say anything at all but stand in my own two shoes, taking responsibility for my own words and actions. That’s all it takes.

Nevertheless I fuss and fret over what ifs and all the rest. I haven’t really totally accepted myself, the whole package of me. There will always be parts of myself, habits and all, that I will never get over. Understanding that helps. These are some of the things that I find difficult under the best of circumstances. Other people have other difficult things. Different strokes for different folks. Everyone have their forte.

The thing is I’ve never understood that my difficulties are not bad in themselves.  They do not make me a bad person. It means I have struggles. I am being human. Now I can stop punishing myself and work towards how best to resolve them. Letting go of feelings are hard. Letting go of thinking tougher yet. History is the most difficult to let go of. To help me, I think of the time when a crow flew by Sheba’s nose. She reared up and charged. Well, I HAD to let go of the leash. I hate to think of the consequences if I hadn’t.

It’s another hot day. I’m sweating, drinking hot decaf. I must be trying to sweat out my toxic thoughts. I have many that are still ticking away in my lizard brain. I’m trying to chill a little, slowing it down. Sometimes it’s not easy. I have a frenzy inside of me. I’m pulled in all directions, not focused on anything. It’s best I come here to have a slow conversation with myself. Best not to do any brain surgery if there is no emergency.

It’s past Sheba’s supper time. She is quiet upstairs cooling herself on the bare floor. She has never been downstairs. There’s no way to coax her either. Maybe it is just as well. No need for her hair to be everywhere though they still float down.

LIKE A DREAM LOST

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It’s upsetting how stress can upset my day and body, even though it wasn’t mine. And it wasn’t all that critical. What do you do when you share the household? You can’t help but listen and help with the problem solving. Well, everything is resolved after four days. Four days is enough for it to seep into my system and my dreams. Now, I’m left with the excess and residual frustrations. It’s very well for the guy now that he has received his supplies. He goes off to his workshop.

I’m left here to solve my own frustrations, how to best regain my composure to get on with my program and day. I do have one, an important one, however meager and nondescript it may sound. The goal of my program is how not to let problems be so frustrating that they disrupt and rob me of energy. Problems are to be solved. Frustrations cannot be avoided at times. It is best I learn the skill of ‘dissolving’ it. Let it flow out of me.

I can see now that after the frustration/anger or whatnot is resolved, their energy still hangs around. It is up to me to diffuse it. The rhythm of tapping is soothing for me. With each tap I feel myself feeling calmer and seeing clearly. My feelings are my own responsibility. I do have the choice of how I react/deal with any situation. I do not blame anyone for my own misery. I find it very interesting how the day can get away on me. Now I’m calling it back. I do have that ability.

The day did not get away on me completely. I recognized that my mind was disturbed and disrupted. I used that disturbed energy to do the dirty work – like putting in a load of laundry. The energy was there to be used somehow and lo and behold it was done and hung to dry without much effort. I proceeded to water my bedding plants. The butternut squash seemed to be outgrowing their pots. They were transplanted into bigger ones. All done without much awareness. It doesn’t matter. Things got done. I am now aware.

It is helpful to take stock, to physically tap out the letters, words and sentences. I feel as if my morning was a dream lost. I’ve recaptured it and more. Now on with the show. This is it.