Extreme Self Care - Powerless 2 Powerful

Once I realized that I was grieving, after a long session of meditation, I immediately moved into extreme self-care mode.

I realized I was feeling the same way I felt when those close to me had died.

It's a blank feeling for me. Like there is nothing there. The mind does.not.work. There is constant tension behind the eyes, and lack of appetite. This contains an element of depression, because the people aren't really dead. The relationship is dead.

Some days its only been as much as I can do to just say my Higher Power's name over and over again. When I speak HP's name in my mind, I'm invoking HP's presence and help, according to my tradition. HP lives the name, to speak it is to be with.

Extreme self care is increasing meditation. I did 40 minutes this morning and again when I came back from work. Because of that I was actually able to work on  my term paper.

I decided that I would only be able to do 5 hours at work (gratitude: P/T flexible job).  I stopped for conscious breaks every hour. I got up, I minute meditated, I watched the rain a bit. Instead of stewing about something I needed to do, but wasn't sure about, I made those jobs a priority and asked right away so I wouldn't waste any more time. I need people. I need help.

Fortunately I've got a great supervisor. Unfortunately the way that person treats me is better than I was treated growing up - so being with them brings the sting of what wasn't there and makes me aware of what I missed. Today I was able to turn from that sting and be grateful they are in my life.

I read in a book about emotionally absent parents that looking for what wasn't there was just as important as what was there. I found a lot of what wasn't there for me. Neglect is an accurate word.

I remember being so hungry at night I couldn't sleep. I remember gorging myself at holidays because the food actually tasted good, then feeling guilty at eating so much. Then feeling guilty because I liked it better than my family's "healthy" food. I still feel guilty eating until I am full. What about all those other children who don't have any?

Extreme self-are is doing what I can, and surrendering what I can't. I can't pray the rosary. I can meditate. I can't read long passages in the sacred text. I can repeat short verses to myself. "I AM with you always." I can't go to church, I can read the daily mass. I can't be happy. I can be sad.

I set myself in meditation to feel the grief. To feel the sadness, the anger, the betrayal. I will do it as often as it takes, for as long as it takes. When I choose how and where to let it flow over me, when I let myself know that there is a safe space for expressing my pain, it doesn't come out sideways at work or home.

Just for today I will remember that this is just part of the journey, a really hard part, and tomorrow will be different.

Just for today I will practice extreme self-care, and let go of everything else.

Just for today I will do the feeling so I can have the healing.

Just for today I will surrender what I can't, and do what I can.

Just for today I will let the love be the pain.

One Day At A Time

I should have expected this. I did so well with parents and husband traveling. Now I'm puddling into relief with everything back to normal-ish

And experiencing that depressing dark aftermath of the parental visit. I feel like so much came up the Monday after.

My eldest shared that the social life is not enough. Although surrounded by people at school, the loss of a tight knit community is just now setting in.

This just devastated me, although I was able to stay calm at the time and offer some suggestions for 'one thing' changes. (Ask some x, ask someone y, try this etc.)

I was catapulted back to my own childhood, where I was always in a class filled with kids 2-3 years older than I. Was it an ego thing? Were they proud I was several grades ahead? I did not feel comfortable. I didn't have friends. The kids older than me were resentful of me being in their grade, and emotionally I was not ready to be with teens.

One episode in particular I remember I was at a party, and feeling uncomfortable as usual (looking back, who wouldn't have felt that way when all the kids were older?), I climbed a tree. Everyone started shooting at me with squirt guns. I laughed at first, because that was my stress response, but when they didn't stop I began to cry. A parent came out to check out the noise, and it stopped, and one boy did apologize on his own, without prompting, over and over. He probably had a crush on me.

Re-feeling all that was terrible. My mother was coming to get me. They called her to come early. I did not feel like she wanted to. I did not feel comforted. I curled up in a ball by myself on the back seat. I went to my room and read when I got home.

I had to go back to the class the next week and be around all of them as well. Such is life, even at public school.

My clothes were always different, because I was younger and stick thin. At one point my grandparents thought I was anorexic. What I ate was one of the few things I could control, and I did it with a vengeance. My sibling directly under me was also shockingly underweight. Health food was the be all end all. We looked disturbingly unhealthy for eating so healthy. I probably could have eaten cardboard if necessary.

I remembered being hungry at night. I didn't feel good, so I didn't eat as much Monday, so early Monday morning I woke up and cried for two hours, just feeling all that darkness, sadness and void. It petered out and I was able to go back to sleep. The rosary has been my lifeline when the crying and grieving is coming to the point of overwhelming/unhealthy, I'm able to direct myself back with the meditation and repetitive prayers.

The sorrowful mysteries took on new meaning for me. I wasn't able to pray them much, because the feelings were so sad, but now I'm stronger and those mysteries help when feeling the feelings.

I remembered the feeling of waking up at night, being depressed, not being able to go back to sleep I was so hungry when I was little. I remember laying in bed at night, being hungry. I have a snack every night before bed now. I got up and got a snack.

It was difficult going to work on Tuesday, but I just set my kids a text asking them to please fix their own breakfast because I needed to sleep in. I slept in, had some quick toast in the car, and carried on. When I walked the dog that morning, I was saying to myself "just one step at a time."

The neighbor lady noticed me dragging, and asked. I shared what happened, about the crying jag and just feeling crappy, and we chatted a bit. I felt better after that - before I wouldn't have shared, just lied.

That dark depression. I remember not wanting to live. I didn't want to kill myself, I just wanted to not exist. I lived in books and make believe. I wasn't allowed fantasy, and what I read was strictly controlled by the thought police, but I had my favorites and they saved me.

I got through my childhood one day at a time. And now that I'm an adult, I can comfort that poor little child who was so brave, who didn't have anyone to help.

Today I will tell myself I am loved and accepted, so my inner child can come out and feel all those feelings, because feelings pass and its okay to feel.

Today I will do the healing work, one day at a time, knowing that my life has purpose and meaning, and that this is important work.

One day at a time I will come to realize just how important my life really is, and that I am worth it.