Thursday, September 17

Hell Of A Time

I've mentioned before how I've been caught between this place of "what the hell?" and "hell ya!"

It's like I've been try to pull a mental trick of the hand.
If I focus on having a good time, all the time, the life's bad wouldn't want to interrupt me, it would see I'm too busy for it, leave me alone, let me be.

I know it's an avoidance habit I developed a long time ago.
Delay the process of harsher life's realities, by running full speed in a good time guided direction.

I don't see this as a bad thing in myself, in fact I think I would have been more susceptible to indulging in self pity had I let myself spend too much time in the less than ideal of life's wake.

But recently, I've been slowing my mental self down, unknowingly at first and desperately as of lately.

You know how sometimes you don't know how thirsty you are until you start to take a drink, then you're body instinctively takes over and before you know it you're guzzling straight from that milk carton like your hydration levels well..... depend on it....

That's how I felt this year on our family's annual vacation to Well's Beach, I didn't realize how much I needed to draw from being surrounded by my family, until I was submerged within it's core.

My cousin referred to it as a "soul feeding" and truly, it was just that.

I've been sitting here for the last 10 minutes trying to figure out the best way to describe my family's ora, but typing words to read like "predictable", "even", "unhurried" and "passive" don't support the feeling I'm trying to convey of an environment provided to allow yourself to be unguardedly simple.

This was a month back now, but I've been steadily pulling from it since.

Although our family's "what the hell?" hurdles haven't been unavoidable, I'm finding my distraction tactics have also allowed my confidence to simultaneously be chipped away.    

 This morning I woke feeling like I've got my feet back on the ground. Feeling as if my center is working itself back to certain...... I've really missed this part of me in a"hell ya!" kind of way.

Thursday, April 9

Dear Blog, it's not you, it's me.

Hello there, strange space.
Being here right now, I feel a level of uncomfortableness.
I'm tentative and unsure.
Like bumping into a once close friend you can't remember exactly why you don't talk as much anymore, but have a lingering feeling the guilt lays mostly on you.

So I feel this awkward stammering of talk taking place right now... Where you politely ask me, "how've you been" and I politely answer "great! busy, but good!".... when really life's been filled with so much more than those four dismissive words and my whole being want to bust at the seams, verbally spewing all my hearts triumphs and trials.

One of those times where I talk too fast, jump topics too quickly, and hardly make much sense.
Purge without consequence and laugh within the comfort we once shared.

The last time I wrote here, I felt ready to process some of life's struggles and strengths, since then, life tore my heart apart the worst it ever has. Delaying it all.

But I'm making the initial effort now to get back to where we once were.

I feel like this is a very "it's not you, it's me" cliche post, but cut me some slack for trying would you.

So with all that being said, in a nut shell things really are good, busy, but good. I've been questioning my ability to be a mother, been working hard, playing harder, sleeping more, laughing often, crying less, struggling to find the balance and have fallen back on the ol' "fend for yourself" supper offerings a few too many times lately.

But we're good, happy, plugging away with the steady as we go approach and am looking forward to getting back together here again very soon.

Thursday, January 22

My Avoidance of Quiet Idling

Over the last few months, I've dreamt about writing. It hasn't been the main focal point in any of the dreams, but more like a response to the dream, within the dream.

Most recently, I woke with a pressured chested of anxiety, having had a dream where I actually hit "publish" to a piece on this here blog.
In a response to the contents of the dream, I remember thinking, "I've got to write about this!"

Whatever "this" was is now lost to me, however, that feeling I had, of a clenched heart, startled waking, to the non-reality of actually having written about it, has certainly echoed in my mind, often.

It's bothered me to say the least.
Surprisingly deep response to something so simple surfaced.
But, written words have always been my safest place.
A 'go-to' of self expression.
A place I can't hide myself from.
A therapeutic process of reality, if you will.
A perspective provider.
A place I've always felt so comfortable.
A place I now feel such haste.

It's nothing more than me avoiding the process of exposing self vulnerability, striped with the sense of my need to have order of operation.

How am I suppose to genuinely write about Wesley's birthday, without having worked through the cowardly reality of me at the Dempsey Challenge prior to that.

Forwarding to the good, makes me feel like I'm slighting it, by avoiding addressing the less than happy.
I'm the master of distraction and have happily thrown myself into other areas that I find as self gratifying in solidifying my journey in 'best life fueling'.

However, I know I'm not experiencing it all at the peak of my best self.
Despite being more certain than ever about my path, I'm in this weird place where I'm less sure of my steps.

A month ago, I posted on my Goodnyou? Facebook page this picture...

"I'll admit, I found myself falling down the well of mental dwelling, this morning. I know nothing but insecurity and self doubt are at the bottom. regardless, I let myself topple over that edge and did little to try and slow the descend. I sometimes don't do well in an area of quiet idle. Today is one of those times. So I'm now outside, letting the big snow flakes distract me, watching a pheasant jump into a tree."

The heart is in the confession that "I sometimes don't do well in the quiet idle".
My resistant to that hollow space, is the first sign it's exactly where I need to curl myself into.
It's where my subconscious' crave for me to submerge with writing and self re-alignment.
I've spend at least 20 years building the crutch of its security and the last year denying it by avoidance.

until today


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