Sit. Stay. Heal.
Oh what a day.
Maybe it's because of the massive amount of sugar I ate yesterday, or maybe it's because I'm close to my monthly bleed time, or maybe it's because I haven't seen my children in nearly 3 weeks or maybe it's because .....
“The sad part is that all we’re trying to do is not feel that underlying uneasiness. The sadder part is that we proceed in such a way that the uneasiness only gets worse.
The message here is that the only way to ease our pain is to experience it fully.
Learn to stay. Learn to stay with uneasiness, learn to stay with the tightening, learn to stay with the itch and urge of shenpa, so that the habitual chain reaction doesn’t continue to rule our lives, and the patterns that we consider unhelpful don’t keep getting stronger as the days and months and years go by." ~ Pema Chodron
1. Why in the hell do I think I need to have a reason or explanation for my funky funk?
All day, I've been walking around here asking myself, "hmmm ... Self, why are you feeling this way today?"
Who gives a shit why I'm feeling what I'm feeling. (Which happens to be low, low down, sad, irritable, anxious, hopeless, uninspired, and fragile -- I could go on here, but I think my point's been made) Overly sensitive? Yep. That's me today. I'm feeling because humans feel. I want to feel. Feeling is part of this beautiful life. It means I'm alive another day.
2. If, indeed, I am about to start bleeding, does that make my emotional state today any less important? Any less valid?
Do I minimize my over-all mood today by saying, "Oh, Karen, you're being overly sensitive because it's that time of the month, you poor, poor girl. Just use your period as an excuse for your sadness today and then shove that shit down like it was never really here."
I will not say that to myself.
Perhaps there's this one sacred day in all of the entire month that the flood gates demand to be busted wide open in order to release all of whatever I've taken on, taken in, witnessed or experienced. A time to purge and cleanse my body, my spirit, my soul; a shaking and scraping and flicking away of all those little clinging bits of shit that have got to go. There is wisdom in my tears. Of this, I am certain. I don't have to name the wisdom, explain my feelings or defend my tears.
3. I miss my kids like I miss oxygen when I hold my breath for too long.
It's a terrifying, oppressing, weighted down kind of missing. I know they're fine. I know I'm ok, too. Even so, I can still miss my children. I can give myself permission to yearn for them and daydream about the smell of their hair and the way their hands feels in mine. If I don't turn and look these feelings in the eye, I am absolutely, positively positive they'll haunt me until I do.
I schemed and planned all day, desperately seeking something to take me out of my head and far, far away from what I was feeling. Shopping, screaming, dancing (while screaming!), yoga, tequila, a bath, writing, drawing, talking with a friend, meditation ... believe me, sister, I considered it all. And I did actually do some of those things.
The one little thing I shifted, though, was my reason for doing any of it at all. I decided not to do it "instead of" ... but rather "with".
I decided to settle into this pain and sadness and tremendous discomfort.
I imagined it as an ocean full of downy white feathers, beckoning and ready to catch me safely if only I would allow myself to tip my body inward. I decided to be gentle with myself and admit that I needed a day to be soft and open and raw. I decided to be quiet, to go inside with a bit more intention. To sit. Be still. To stay with what was.
Writing helps. Crying helps. Music helps.
And sometimes tequila helps, too. But not today.