I woke up this morning gripped with anxiety. I've spent most of February feeling this way, or the opposite, like I'm making big strides, gaining clarity, feeling good about my choices, feeling bold. Not a lot of in between though, that lovely relaxed feeling that comes from just living your days as they come. Instead, February's been a rollercoaster.
As far as my challenge goes, I suppose I've done decently. I've gone to the gym, eaten more fruits and vegetables, taken my vitamins, gotten outside for walks and skiing, been kind to myself. I've also delved in deeper with bigger challenges I've been putting off:
I've done more with healing my back, committing time and resources to the next step to wellness. That's taken more out of me than I was prepared for. I don't feel as strong as I did last month, but I know I'm further along in the process, making headway. My neck is moving better than it has, and I know what to focus on in the coming weeks. It feels like work, but I've gotten used to it, accepted it. Even like it sometimes. And I'm doing the most important piece, which is living in my body. Even if my body's going through an achy, difficult phase.
At least I'm showing up for my body, not ignoring it. I guess I was hoping that it would be more cut and dried, less confusing, that what to do next would be straightforward. But healing my back is not straightforward; it's nuanced and layered and requiring a great deal of commitment. Luckily I know what I want to feel like, the place I'm trying to get to. Somethings even that is hazy. So I'm blessed that my end goal keeps me motivated.
I've moved forward with issues in my relationships and finances that I haven't been ready to face until now. This is where all the anxiety is coming from. It's totally normal; it's a physical reaction to risk. There's a lot at risk when we start shaking things up in our finances or our relationships. So on one hand, I've risen to challenges I haven't been able to before; on the other, it has me gripped. With fear. Which is what this whole blog and experiment is about. I have to figure out how to handle what I'm going through within the context of how I want to live. Right now I'm confused about that.
The high moments this month have come as I've confronted these underlying issues and decided how I want to live, what my values are, what I am deciding is important and critical in my life. But for every high there seems to be an equal and opposite reaction. It's not surprising when I think about it; these things are issues precisely because they bring up conflicting emotions and ways of thinking and being. One thing I'm figuring out for sure, there's no way around fear. There's just no way to live without fear. But there are a lot of ways to live.
Ironically, choosing how I want to live has brought up fear. I'm giving up the guarantees I've been taught by my family and society: This is how you do it, these are the judgements that we'll measure you by, this is what you have to do to be safe, happy, and secure. It's a biological fact that going against your tribe, even in simply philosophy or thinking, puts stress on your system. We are hard wired to conform. We are hardwired to unconsciously take the judgments of others, especially people we care about, as truth about ourselves. To summon the necessary strength and fortitude, our purpose must be crystal clear.
I found how much I've been sitting on the fence, between what I really feel and believe my life should be, and what my family and friends are doing. The fence, it turns out, is the most stressful place of all. A friend of mine said, "That's why people live in communes. They just want the peace of being with others who think and feel about life the way they do."
So where am I? Tackling the toughest issues in my life, yes. But barely managing along. What can I do to not just survive this time in my life, but thrive? I can't not feel the fear as I open up these risky places, but what can I do about it? How can I live through it better, in the spirit of falling backwards?
I know the groundwork, which is making sure I get things that are ultimately nourishing. Things that are in my challenge. It's important to keep going with those. Part of the problem with needing to do nourishing things is that when we need nourishment the most, need something kind and comforting and gentle, we have very little energy to give ourselves these things. Hence my excessive reaching for chocolate and watching movies late night when I'm too uptight to sleep this month. The nourishment needs to feel easy, and supremely comforting. So that's my first order of business in March. If I want to be stronger, I'll need to be nourished.
The second thing, like knowing how I want my back and body to feel, is clarity on what I ultimately want for myself. Something to sustain me as I bear the workload. I see two ways to do this: One, with a gratitude journal, which is part of my challenge but I haven't prioritized, and two, by revisiting where I'm at and what I'm doing, so I don't feel confused and pushed around by life.
It's a tall order for March: continue to do the groundwork while I push forward with working through these things; add a gratitude journal, get clear on what I'm doing. But I think that's what it's going to take to feel lighter, to let go, to be led by inspiration instead of fear. There's no getting off the rollercoaster in the middle after all, so how am I going to feel about the ride?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Forgiveness can kiss my @**
"When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord doesn't work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me."
- Emo Philips
I pulled a list of things to do from O Magazine as part of my challenge, and when I first read forgiveness on the list, I didn't give it much thought. I mean, it's not like we all haven't heard before that we should forgive. Truth is, once I stopped to reflect on how this piece would be a challenge - something that I actually do - I realized that I don't think I've ever really understood what it means to forgive, regularly. I understand forgiving the big offenses, how not forgiving can poison you: The need to forgive your mother for leaving you, for example. But how many of us understand forgiveness as a way to live, day to day? Especially if you come from a family that rarely forgives anything?
I started by trying to understand what forgiveness actually is:
"Forgiveness is typically defined as the process of concluding resentment, indignation, or anger as a result of a perceived offense, difference or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution." - Wikipedia
Concluding is the key word. Finishing. Moving on, letting go. Boy am I bad at it.
What piqued my interest in forgiveness happened a couple of weeks ago. I noticed how little my son Mikey forgives. Rather, I noticed that he does forgive sometimes, and it seems so natural to his generous, loving nature. And I noticed that other times - most of the time - he doesn't forgive. He remembers, and holds onto his grievances, and he'd rather strike out than forgive. Is this a normal developmental stage for a 5 year old? Is it a natural form of self-preservation we all struggle with? Or is something else going on?
My conclusion? It may be normal, and normal for a five year old, but I suspect he's showing what he's learned from me. Letting go of things has never been easy for me - my life before my mom got sick, mementos that remind me where I've been and what I've done, hopes and dreams. On one hand, my perseverance has emerged as one of my true strengths; on the other, I can't let go of what's hurt me, and forgive. I know everyone struggles with forgiveness; it just seems like I struggle....more.
Refusing to forgive is own of my favorite forms of self-protection, at least according to my track record. I don't move past things well, or easily. I'd never thought about forgiveness in my family before, but I see how my parents are the same way. They hold onto their grievances, both of them, and wind up shaping aspects of their lives around them, limiting their connections to others. Like me, I doubt they have any idea how little they forgive or what it means in the long run, in the bigger picture. Is it any coincidence that my family is full of loners, preferring to distance ourselves from our loved ones who've hurt us than allow that they've hurt us and find a way to mend that bridge? Like blue eyes and a quick wit, the willingness to forgive seems to be hereditary, handed down from parent to child.
Why do we need to forgive, anyway? Forgiveness seems to be at the heart of our ability to forge close, loving relationships with those around us. When I look at the rifts that have happened in my family and with my best friends, it always boils down to one person or another refusing to forgive.
I know what forgiveness looks like: The moment that the offense stops mattering, fully. What I don't understand is how it all works. I know from Quantum physics and neuroscience that energy and the way we feel when we turn our conscious attention to something has profound and far reaching implications. I know that the refusal to forgive stands in the way of the flow of love between people, and this cuts of a form of sustenance and nourishment needed by our spirits, our souls. And I suspect that a gentleman my the name of Lewis Smedes was right when he said, "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."
So my question is, how do I forgive more? How do I make forgiving others and myself such a part of my daily life that my son will realize that there's no danger in forgiveness, that he has other ways to self-preserve? How do I show him what I barely understand, that our lives are richer, fuller, happier if we are able to cultivate the ability to forgive? And the most mind boggling, how do I forgive family members who constantly, absolutely refuse to forgive me and people I love?
In my family, the offense holds more weight than the person. I mean, the violation of someone's moral code is worth hurting the offender in return. "If you do not measure up in my judgment of you, I will withdraw affection, respect, and regard of you until you do something that allows me to feel you measure up." "If you hurt me, I will put a gulf between us and decide that it can never be crossed as long as you are the way you are". When I think about it, it seems preposterous that I would ever sign on to something that so clearly violates what I've learned on my own about love and connection. Yet I have signed on, unconsciously. So I guess the place to start is by observing when and what I can't forgive, be it myself or others. I'll start with just cultivating awareness, both about my lack of forgiveness, but also about how my life is enriched by knowing the person I'm refusing to forgive. And I'll just have to figure it out from there.
- Emo Philips
I pulled a list of things to do from O Magazine as part of my challenge, and when I first read forgiveness on the list, I didn't give it much thought. I mean, it's not like we all haven't heard before that we should forgive. Truth is, once I stopped to reflect on how this piece would be a challenge - something that I actually do - I realized that I don't think I've ever really understood what it means to forgive, regularly. I understand forgiving the big offenses, how not forgiving can poison you: The need to forgive your mother for leaving you, for example. But how many of us understand forgiveness as a way to live, day to day? Especially if you come from a family that rarely forgives anything?
I started by trying to understand what forgiveness actually is:
"Forgiveness is typically defined as the process of concluding resentment, indignation, or anger as a result of a perceived offense, difference or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution." - Wikipedia
Concluding is the key word. Finishing. Moving on, letting go. Boy am I bad at it.
What piqued my interest in forgiveness happened a couple of weeks ago. I noticed how little my son Mikey forgives. Rather, I noticed that he does forgive sometimes, and it seems so natural to his generous, loving nature. And I noticed that other times - most of the time - he doesn't forgive. He remembers, and holds onto his grievances, and he'd rather strike out than forgive. Is this a normal developmental stage for a 5 year old? Is it a natural form of self-preservation we all struggle with? Or is something else going on?
My conclusion? It may be normal, and normal for a five year old, but I suspect he's showing what he's learned from me. Letting go of things has never been easy for me - my life before my mom got sick, mementos that remind me where I've been and what I've done, hopes and dreams. On one hand, my perseverance has emerged as one of my true strengths; on the other, I can't let go of what's hurt me, and forgive. I know everyone struggles with forgiveness; it just seems like I struggle....more.
Refusing to forgive is own of my favorite forms of self-protection, at least according to my track record. I don't move past things well, or easily. I'd never thought about forgiveness in my family before, but I see how my parents are the same way. They hold onto their grievances, both of them, and wind up shaping aspects of their lives around them, limiting their connections to others. Like me, I doubt they have any idea how little they forgive or what it means in the long run, in the bigger picture. Is it any coincidence that my family is full of loners, preferring to distance ourselves from our loved ones who've hurt us than allow that they've hurt us and find a way to mend that bridge? Like blue eyes and a quick wit, the willingness to forgive seems to be hereditary, handed down from parent to child.
Why do we need to forgive, anyway? Forgiveness seems to be at the heart of our ability to forge close, loving relationships with those around us. When I look at the rifts that have happened in my family and with my best friends, it always boils down to one person or another refusing to forgive.
I know what forgiveness looks like: The moment that the offense stops mattering, fully. What I don't understand is how it all works. I know from Quantum physics and neuroscience that energy and the way we feel when we turn our conscious attention to something has profound and far reaching implications. I know that the refusal to forgive stands in the way of the flow of love between people, and this cuts of a form of sustenance and nourishment needed by our spirits, our souls. And I suspect that a gentleman my the name of Lewis Smedes was right when he said, "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."
So my question is, how do I forgive more? How do I make forgiving others and myself such a part of my daily life that my son will realize that there's no danger in forgiveness, that he has other ways to self-preserve? How do I show him what I barely understand, that our lives are richer, fuller, happier if we are able to cultivate the ability to forgive? And the most mind boggling, how do I forgive family members who constantly, absolutely refuse to forgive me and people I love?
In my family, the offense holds more weight than the person. I mean, the violation of someone's moral code is worth hurting the offender in return. "If you do not measure up in my judgment of you, I will withdraw affection, respect, and regard of you until you do something that allows me to feel you measure up." "If you hurt me, I will put a gulf between us and decide that it can never be crossed as long as you are the way you are". When I think about it, it seems preposterous that I would ever sign on to something that so clearly violates what I've learned on my own about love and connection. Yet I have signed on, unconsciously. So I guess the place to start is by observing when and what I can't forgive, be it myself or others. I'll start with just cultivating awareness, both about my lack of forgiveness, but also about how my life is enriched by knowing the person I'm refusing to forgive. And I'll just have to figure it out from there.
| ||||||||||||||
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)