Tag Archives: feelings

OVERRIDING MYSELF IN microMOMENTS

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Here’s to me trying override myself using Sark’s Micromovement Magic Method. It’s nothing new. I’ve been using it. It helps that she’s given it a name and  made it into a  booklet form. Something written with colourful steps makes it concrete and magical. You can download it for free.

The magic lies in starting. It’s the alchemy moment. Once you start, the rest will follow. I heard that phrase in a yoga video. The instructor said, Bring one knee to your chest and the other one will follow. The sentence has played in my head many times when I am having difficult moments. I’m playing it this morning. So many yukking things weighing me down. Yup, they are not difficult but unpleasant for me to deal with. I don’t quite understand the ‘unpleasantness’.  It’s the procrastination that is unpleasant, the feeling of I should do it but I don’t want to. I’m transferring that remembered unpleasant feeling to everything I do. It’s become a bad habit.

My indecisiveness causes much unnecessary grief. There are so many things to agonize over. Most of the time they are not really worth it. For instance the recall of my car for faulty passenger airbag. What was hard about that? All I had to do is make an appointment and take the car in. They give me a ride back and forth. I don’t even have to pay. It’s not difficult now that It’s dealt with. But when I got the notice, I shovelled it under more paper. It’s my normal reaction – to be handle LATER. Ugh!

I’m trying to undo/override my habitual self in micromoments of 5 minutes at a time. I can make one dreaded phone call in 5 minutes. I can pay one bill in another 5 minutes. I can stew about a problem and options for 5 minutes and take another 5 to make a decision. Why don’t I take 5 and shed some remembered icky feeling and develop some delicious one to fill its place? Why don’t I….? Why don’t I….?

G IS FOR GUILT, P IS FOR PLAN

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I am slowly getting over my physical indisposition. At any rate, I’m not allowing it to affect my pyschological outlook. It was hard work though. I had to concentrate, talked to myself alot. You can choose, my inner voice lectured in my head. I gave it some thought and went down the optimist’s path. Better a high road than a low one. Isn’t that everyone’s advice?

At the end of the day, yesterday, my head was such a tangled nightmare. My hair felt electrofied, standing on end. All my work stations were jumbled messes. I felt nauseous. I would puke if I could. In the morning, things didn’t look quite as bad. So now, it’s my measuring stick for feeling sick or tired or both. It helped me to decide to stay home from my exercise class and not feel guilty about it. I’m a good example of someone being hard on herself. I wonder when I will feel grownup. I have nobody to answer to, not even a boss.

Somehow I do feel more grownup, having made that decision and some other choices. Today and now is always the first day of any change. Some routine makes for efficiency. Too much makes ruts. I need to work on my ‘mess piles’ since they do aggravate my well-being and hinder creativity. I’m always having to dig through to find things. I try not to let the thought of clearing and cleaning overwhelm me. I cleared my head, took a breath. I decided I would clear a spot/deal with a chore, one at a time. There would be no multi-tasking. I will have to put things away from now on. That is my plan.

To set things in motion, I renewed my library stuff online to avoid late fees. I had a due back soon email yesterday. I changed the bedding, laundered, dried, fold and put it all away. I did the dishes after lunch before taking Sheba to the park. We did the 2 laps around and no more, though we were asked to do another by 2 ladies. The good company was tempting but I stuck to my  plan. Overdoing had worn me out.

It is a little after 5 pm. The sun is still out. Looks like spring is here. My ‘work’ is done. Time to let go of the day. This is enough.

F IS FOR FED UP

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Do you get fed up sometimes? Today I feel at the maximum fed up level. February is l-o-n-g. I had set out at the start with such heart felt hope. This was suppose to be my feel good month. Not that anything is wrong or that I’ve been plagued with a truckload of disasters. None of that. I just feel such malaise even though the sky is blue and the sun is shining. I need another cup of decaf.

Perhaps it is because of my recent sinusitis of the past week and a half. Not that it was such a struggle. It was a tad tougher than my usual state for I am forever complaining a lack of energy, of joie de vivre. I’m fed up with being a wet blanket, a party pooper and being my worse enemy. It’s good to let it all out. This is my space, my confessional. It is where I come to cleanse my mind and soul.

It doesn’t help that my sleep is disturbed lately. I had nightmares a couple of nights back. I screamed and screamed in my sleep. I thought it was only in my dreams. I was stuck in an elevator with unsavory man. I was scared to death. In my dream, I had trouble getting my screams out. It wasn’t so in real life. I woke the guy and Sheba as well. Then last night, I had trouble getting to sleep. I got up and read awhile. Luckily that helped. I slept and dreamt as well. Lucky it was not a nightmare. I dreamt about little cupcakes. The cost was $15 for 15. I guess the cost is nightmarish. I wonder if it was those little unsavory Italian meatballs that triggered the dream.

It really helps to tap out my feelings, whatever they are. I was seeing the world through bleak eyes. I couldn’t see the point of anything. The world is gone to hell in a hand basket:

  • The war in Syria. Seeing the dead babies on the evening news.
  • The school shooting in Florida. Hearing a politician saying the teachers need to have guns when the students were crying for gun control

These are the two weighing heavily on top of all the others right now. What can be done to make the world and humans better? Being fed up is not the answer I know. Now the question is how do I get out of it? I bet Oprah would say, Live your best life. A good answer, I’m sure but it won’t do for me. It’s too generalized, too neat. I have to chip, tap and hack my way out bit by bit.

I’m a fan of Sue Grafton. You’ve probably deduced it by the title of this blog. Her detective series is just what I need on my not so buoyant days. Janet  Evanovich is in the same genre. I’m glad it’s women that help me get through the tough days. Their energy, humour and narrative story telling take me away from the moody blues into adventure and laughs. I have to love that.

So another day comes to an end. I’ve limped through it but I’m still standing. I’ve gotten up, dressed up and shown up. I had to work a little harder at it. It was my Olympic effort, not a Gold Medal but nothing wrong with a Bronze. My mantra was I can do this. I can do this. So it went. Now I have a few more trays seeded – 3 kinds of tomatoes and geraniums. The petunias and chili peppers have germinated. Things do look hopeful. The effort is worth it.

When I have a Sheba, I have to make an effort. She wears my moods so I had to show her that I was okay. Nothing to worry about. She is safe and cared for. She is her confident and happy self again.

 

 

COMMUNING ON THE MOUNT

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I very seldom sit in silence unless I’m reading a book. So let me clarify and say I’m seldom unengaged. I’m always listening, reading or watching something. My head is full of stuff – noise, news, gossip, emotions. Yes, I have to say I process feelings up there, too. Feelings invade my whole body. Dissatisfaction and envy makes me feel bad all over. Have you experienced it? It’s difficult to explain. I don’t really like to talk about it except here, where I can just mutter and tap without interruption or judgement.

I like to think I’m just going through seasonal and daily moods. I like to think I’m like everyone else. It’s not bad to have dissatisfactions and envy. I’m just being human. And isn’t it good that I have outlets? I get to spit out all this garbage on the page. I’m not poisoning myself holding it in and no one has to listen. Then I move on.

It’s another day. I have moved on. It’s another glorious sunny afternoon. Sheba and I will have another saunter in the park. Maybe we will find a few dogs to romp with. It’s good by ourselves, too. I like the peace and quiet of yesterday. Not too many souls about. It was mostly us and God. I got to commune with him on the mount in the crispness of the winter, under the blue of the sky. I heard and felt his presence. I AM HERE. Do not be afraid.

I believe him. We have communed in another time, another place. He has led me out of the shadow into the light. I am thankful for this opportunity and time in the desert. I can lay aside my thoughts, doubts, and fears. I will dwell in the wisdom of silence and nonjudgement. I will listen to the knowledge laden air. I will be patient and hold my tongue. My kingdom lies in the silence.

 

O HOLY NIGHT

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I feel guilty sitting here, tap tap tapping on this 24th day of December – Christmas Eve. By all accounts aren’t I suppose to be busy cooking up a storm, celebrating and partying? At the same time, aren’t we supposed to observe the reverence of Jesus’ birth? To confuse the issue more for myself, I am Chinese. I was not born a Christian but to a culture of ancestor worship. Sometime and somewhere in my life, I saw Jesus on the cross. I followed that vision and was baptised in the Catholic Church. But I heard Buddha calling me also. I listened and liked what I heard.

I am confused but I don’t feel too bad about it. I’ve been listening to too many voices. I heard all their sayings and beliefs. Now, I know the best voice is my own. I’ve bathed in too many’s experiences and feelings. They are not my own. It’s time to shed them. Time to step into my own waters, my experiences and feelings. It is time to don my fineries and see how they fit. Will they wear well?

O Holy Night has been my favourite Christmas Carol since I was a little immigrant girl in Maidstone. It was before I was Catholic. I heard it sung by Susan, an older neighbour girl. She lived in the railroad station house across the highway from us. I thought her voice was heavenly. It was so pure and clear like that night. It is still my favourite. I love the beauty of the music and the lyrics. Whether or not I believe, it does not matter. How I celebrate or not does not matter as long as I am true to myself, as long as I am enjoying what I am doing and not hurting another.

 

BEING BRAVE – BAH HUMBUG!

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I am myself again, ruminating and ranting. I find myself still dwelling over things I’ve said or shouldn’t have said. I see myself wringing and twisting my hands in my mind. Oh, I’m rude! I’ve hurt their feelings! Why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut? But I’m talking back to this voice in my head. It doesn’t really matter! It’s only my obsessive over-inflated ego thinking what I say have any importance to anyone, especially to three learned professors. Just stop it!

I stopped the voice in my head. The thoughts echo and ricochet off  the edges of my mind. I sat back in my chair and sipped my decaf. It tasted pretty good with coconut milk. I travelled back to yesterday. The room was noisy with music and people chatter, the sounds of what Christmas luncheons are made of. Our salads arrived, then the pork tenderloin. They are making draws for door prizes. My name is called. I won 2 tickets to Persephone Theatre. Someone said that the play Treasure Island is very good. It is being held over.

I’m trying to drown out life’s miseries. They tend to come out and multiply with weddings, funerals and Christmases. I’m feeling very bah humbug this year. This feeling has been increasing each year. Now I’ve reached that crescendo – BAH HUMBUG! I’m exhausted listening to all the complaints of consumerism, blah, blah, blah. Complaints! Complaints! Complaints! And yet with all these complaint the practices are continued year after year. This year I’m stopping all that. I’ve stopped going to church because of all the bad stuff about religion. Now I’ve gone all the way. Now I’m truly brave.

Not that I’m feeling totally comfortable with my new bravery. I see certain looks on people’s faces after I’ve come out – those shifty eyes and uncertain careful voices. People betray alot with body language and facial expressions. I imagine I do, too. I can’t see myself but sometimes I catch my own reflection in others’ reaction. I could be happier if I was dumb and dumber. Ah, you can’t have everything in this world.

If you’ve caught a whisper of sarcasm and bitterness in my words, you got it. I am feeling that. It is my own sarcasm and bitterness, not directed at anyone else. There’s no harm in acknowledging my own feelings. The harm comes from holding them in and squishing them in my own body. There is nothing wrong with not celebrating Christmas. It is not a Chinese tradition though we’ve adopted it over the years. It’s truly a Charlie Brown kind of Christmas and not authenitically ours. I’ve felt like an imposter all these years.

If Christmas is about peace, goodwill and love towards all, I’m all for it. It should be celebrated every day. But do we need all the trappings? If you love ‘all that is Christmas’, it is okay with me, too. I have no objections to how others’ celebrate. I respect that. But the controversies and arguments about Christmas have killed some of that joy for me. That is not to say that I am a total joyless heathen. There is a tiny spark of hope for joy in me. I will bring out my own Bodhi tree. Sheba and I found it in the park last year. I had to fight her for it. There’s history here. It was already dead and no chopping down necessary. We didn’t pay any money for it either. Measuring up is not in our vocabulary.

 

 

LIVE WISE

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Sheba was right on the money this morning. 6:05 am was when I felt her cold wet nose, followed by her little snort. It was still pitch black. But I love that part of the day when Preston Avenue was still asleep. No continuous ribbon of cars and only a few foot traffic.

I’m learning to leave my electronics asleep for awhile, indulging myself turning a few pages of written words. Once I start scrolling, one thing would lead to another. The minutes and then the hours would go by. My head and mind stirred and messed up with bad and/or useless information. Instead,  these mornings I am reading Stephen Jenkinson’s Die Wise, a Manifesto for Sanity and Soul. It is not an easy read. I can only do a few pages at a time. Now I might have to leave it for a few days.

He didn’t tell me anything that I did not know before. What it did was to take me right back to the workplace I have left 4 years ago. The scenes and talks were so familiar. I know he is coming from an authentic place. He has given a voice to those things and feelings that I’ve experienced and breathed for years but couldn’t articulate. I am grateful for that identification. It will help me ‘get over’ and heal from my ‘anxiety’ or ‘trauma’. The book is aptly named. It is a manifesto for sanity and soul. I believe that my anxiety was from the denial of all the feelings I’ve witnessed and experienced in the hallowed halls of the Hospital. But how else could I have carried on working without the denial?

These things were never talked about that I could remember. Yes, there was a Health Office but that was mostly where you report to after you’ve been off sick. It was like the Prinicpal’s Office. Most of the time I felt like a truant child, not deserving but abusing. Health care was for patients only. But then this was my experience. I don’t know about others. We don’t talk about it much. It was the same way with after retirement. I don’t hear about how others fare. I just hear about the travelling. That’s what I hear the most. Are you going to travel? I felt obligated to travel just because I am retired.

What happened to me was I fell apart. Or that’s what it felt like. Oh, I did some travelling. I was busy most if not all the time. I wasn’t just sitting around having a nervous breakdown.  I always took pride in being very functional, no matter what. No one probably knew I was having difficulties except maybe the person living with me. Sheba probably did. She had her own anxiety attacks. They were probably from me. She cushioned me by absorbing some of it. She is my best friend.

I am so lucky to have arrive in this space and time. I can now sit and stay with my feelings without jumping out of my skin. I can acknowledge the good, bad and the ugly. I can sit and read Die Wise – if only a few pages at a time.

THESE LITTLE STARS OF MINE

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It’s one thing to talk about getting real but another to do it. I was readily led off into cyberspace first thing this morning. I was off again chasing others’ lives rather than my own. But it’s out of the way now (I hope). I’ll work on getting back into my own now.

The morning is as gloomy as can be. I’ll try to rise above my inertia and shine this little light of mine. I can’t sit and count others to do it for me. It has never happened. Why would it now? I better sit up and polish up my stars so they can twinkle and light up my world. I’ve folded up some laundry and a load is in the washer. Some ripe tomatoes are sorted, washed, bagged and in the freezer. The heavy traffic floors are vacuumed. I’m sipping my second cup of tea here, tapping out my thoughts and progress.

What I know for sure is it is difficult to be in the here and now. Seems like my natural inclination to drift anywhere but here. It feels uncomfortable to deal with whatever it is in front of me. I can’t quite understand it but that’s the thing. I don’t know about you, but I push it (whatever it is) aside, behind me – in avoidance. Not that it helps. I still have that uncomfortable, nagging, dreading feeling all the while.

I’m beginning to think all these feelings of avoidance and dread come from the habit of avoidance. It’s a well worn groove now and I need some muscle power to boost myself out. I’ve been spinning and spinning, tap and tapping about it all this time. I fall back in time after time. I need to tell a new story. I need new and better habits. I just have to start with one – now.

 

 

THE DAY AFTER MY YEAR

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IMG_8234The day after my year of doing different I am feeling quite crossed and unpleasant. I feel ugly meanness and not niceness oozing out of me. I decide that I would try to go into quietness and sit with it for awhile. Maybe I can befriend the feeling and see where it goes. I will try the newness of not fixing. It will be difficult, for I’m the fix-myself queen.

The tap tap on the keyboard has a soothing rhythm. I’m feeling and listening to the sound. It reminds me of Rhythm of the Falling Rain.

 

I hear the opening bar of thunder, then the cascading falling of the rain, the melody and simple lyrics. It’s pretty, it’s lovely. My body moves to the rhythm. My lips mouth the words. I am not stirring up more uglies in me.

The wrinkles in my mind are ironed out, the uglies and meanness recede. Only I had felt them. They are not my outerwear. They are not broadcast over loudspeaker system. I am not what I feel. I do not have to repent and do 50 hours of community work. I am saved from myself by myself. Hallelujah!

What I know for sure is the earth is round. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. It will do so every day unless we screw up and self destruct. What goes up must come down. I am not unique. Therefore I am not alone in my feelings. There are good habits and then there are bad habits. What I know for sure is I’ve strengthened my good ones during the 365 days of doing different. No matter how I feel, I get up, dress up and show up. It is a very good motto. Work it!

 

 

 

 

 

PAINTING MY WORLD – Day 175 in a year of…

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Day 175, January 17, 2017 @1:23 pm

img_9005My Tinker Bell and her fairy dust is still out. Now she is on her lunch break. I’m flying solo without a net. My only magic is my keyboard, a loyal and dependable friend. I might as well tap and breathe, tap and breathe while I wait for Tink to return. The going is slow but it’s better than at a standstill. My great, great ancestor did say that a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. I am stepping, finishing my White Snake/Tiger/Dragon maiden. She looks like she’s flying on a magic carpet. Maybe that is enough magic to keep me going.

img_9007I take comfort in making some progress with the beginnings of a little cherub. I can wait for elation to come later. Now the important thing is not to let feelings of inertia and despondency to weigh me down. Perhaps it is not good to dwell on this but it is necessary to know and acknowledge oneself. I am soothing and nurturing this part of me. I might as well use this energy for words and pictures. I like to paint my world with both these brushes – words and pictures.