Compassion in Dark Times

Being gentle with yourself can be the hardest thing to do when things get dark. Do it anyway.

This is the time of year for me when things get dark. Outside it is literally gray and dark and cold most of the time. Inside it is equally dark and gray most years for me. January/February will not ever be the same for me and I have to accept that. My cells in my body will not allow me to forget the darkness of these last few days of January leading into February. There is a heaviness, a grief, a weight that sits on me and pulls me down no matter where I am or what I am doing. This year, the dark feels darker, the grief feels deeper, the weight feels heavier.

On January 30, 2011, my ex-husband and father of my oldest child passed away suddenly. He was 35 years old. It has been ten years. It still feels unreal. I can be knocked back to that place in my mother’s home getting that phone call in a heartbeat. I can never forget telling my child. I won’t ever forget either. It changed us forever. It changed so many people forever. It was tragic. It still is.

Over the years I have had different ways of coping with the grief of that day. Many years I was distracted and I ignored the heaviness. Other years I was undone with grief, barely able to function. Some years I celebrated him and our love and our child with deep gratitude and happiness along with feeling the loss. This year, it feels heavy. Maybe because it has been ten years. Maybe because I’m going through personal loss and a rearrangement of my life. Maybe because our world feels hostile and cold. Maybe because death surrounds me on a daily basis with insane amounts of life lost due to a global pandemic. Maybe because what used to be everyday, routine decisions feel risky. Maybe because some of the people who would routinely love on me and support me can’t be around me for our own protections.

This is tough. I want hugs from my people more than I want to eat sometimes and I cannot hug them. I want to sit in the presence of people who love, support and lift me up and that isn’t available to me right now. This pandemic is so isolating and is depriving me of some of my very basic human needs. Yes I have the love and support of my immidiate family-but this is their wound too. This is their pain and grief as well. It would be unreasonable of me to burden my children with my grief. Their hugs and love and support are appreciated and needed but this is a bigger job than that. Physical touch and being in the presence of people with strength, love, hope, and good solid energy is healing. It can lighten your grief, it can make you feel held, it can fill up your cup. Missing out on that for the last 10 months has been devestating. I hug my people. I love on my friends. I enjoy sitting close with my friends and sharing conversations standing in a close circle with co-workers in hallway. I miss seeing smiles and standing close enough to someone to feel their energy or reach out and grab their hand.

The layers of grief this year have to be processed. They have to be felt or it builds up inside and comes out wonky. What does that mean? It means if I don’t cry for the loss of physical touch, I might start spending all my nights watching internet videos to feel connected to something, but not sleeping, which would be a more loving thing to do. If I don’t scream out in anger when I feel mad, I might lose my patience with my children or my students because it is sitting just below the surface, I never let myself process it. I’ve found the safest place to yell into the void is in the car or the beach (when no one else is there). I cry everywhere and I cry often. I am crying as I write at times because writing is a release, for me a way to process what is happening.

This global pandemic has taken away from me many of my coping strategies. It is important for me to grieve that too and to find new ways of dealing in this new reality. Going to Al-Anon meetings is one of my most important self-care actions. I love the hugs, the deep sharing, the courage, and the holding of hands in a circle at the end. There is magic in it. For long periods of time, we have had to meet online. If we are able to meet in person it is six feet away from any other person, no hugs, no seeing smiles because they are covered by masks, and no circle of hands at the end. I miss it so much.

I used to get a massage once a month. It helped me release all of the things I was storing as tension in my body and to experience safe, therapeutic touch. I haven’t gotten a massage in over a year. I bought myself a little machine that can massage your back and neck and I use it often. It is great but it is not a substitute for a person’s healing touch. I made a personal decision not to expose myself to another outside appointment after deciding that getting my hair done was more important to me. It may seem like a silly loss, but I grieve it just the same.

Going out to dinner with a good friend or a group of friends used to be a welcome outlet for times when the world got too heavy. We would eat, drink, and be merry. I miss laughing and feeling free over the hum of a restaurant full of people. Sometimes that collective energy reminds us of our connectedness with others and how a collective energy can be intoxicating and life-giving. Sometimes that breaking of bread breaks us open enough to share what is in our heart and on our minds with others who can love and support us. We are missing out on that right now. Sitting at a restaurant for hours with friends right now carries with it a risk of endangering the people we love, and that kind of takes the fun out of it.

So what do I do now that these and so many other things I used to do for self-care and to ease my burdens are gone? I have to get creative. I have to reach deep in the well of self-compassion, for myself and deep in the well of compassion for others. Self-compassion for me can take on many forms but really what I need to ask myself all the time is, what is the most loving thing I can do for myself and then do that. What are loving things I can do for myself? Everyday is different but here are some examples.

Taking a nap when I’m tired

Calling a friend or a mentor

Exercise or gentle movement

Reading a book, snuggled in a blanket, sitting by the fire

Going out in nature, especially the forest or the beach for me

Reading something uplifting

Knitting

Drawing or painting

Walking the dog

Listening to a meditation, a podcast or solfeggio frequencies

Dancing to loud music

Looking at beautiful things (in real life or on the internet)

Taking a bath or a hot shower

Journaling or writing

Letting myself have a good cry or screaming into the void

Giving myself a big hug or wrapping myself up in a warm blanket

Writing myself a kind note and encouraging myself with words I would use for a friend that was struggling

Seeing my therapist regularly

Attending a weekly recovery meeting

Sitting under my light therapy lamp

Petting the dog or cats

Not visiting Facebook or social media if it makes me feel less than or steals my peace

If you sit down right now and make a list of all of the things in this moment that are stressing you out or causing you grief or contributing to your upset, you might be surprised at how long the list is. January may not be your time of darkness for the same reasons as mine, but it may be dark just the same. If you really sat down in the darkness, would you know how to take care of yourself there? Do you avoid the darkness, your darkness, because you don’t think you will survive it if you let yourself feel it? Do you not think you have the time? I understand. I have been in all of those spaces and had all of the excuses and all of the avoidant strategies. It did not save me from feeling my grief. It comes every year and honestly most days to visit me. I used to slam the door, pretend it wasn’t there and find ways to numb it or distract myself from it. It waited for me. Really. It just built up time after time until it nearly broke me and I had no choice but to face it. It was as bad as I thought it would be. It hurt so bad. It was white hot pain. The only thing that shocked me in the end is that it didn’t kill me. I lived and I still do. I survived it and I still do. I felt it and I processed it and I still do. I am capable of so much more than I believe I am. I am so much stronger than I let myself believe, and you are too.

Compassion is a super power. It is stronger than grief. It is stronger than anger. It is even stronger than loneliness. It can come from others but most importantly it can come from yourself. Do not withhold this power from yourself. It can fill your cup, warm your heart, and ease your soul. I am being tested this year in my self-compassion generosity. I am being challenged to get creative with it and to allow time for it, to make it my top priority. It is not easy and I need reminders to do it (thank you to my therapist and Al-anon sponsor) but, when I practice it, my darkness gets lighter. In a world where I can feel hopeless and isolated (especially right now) it helps to know that I have my own back. Even in my darkest, most heavy places, I have a soft spot to land. That soft spot is me. It is my self-compassion. Today that looks like tears, writing, cozy clothes, gentle movement, writing, knitting, a nap, and feeding my body food without judgement. It looks like sharing my darkness with others so that they know they are not alone, and that they can survive any darkness if they are willing to show up for themselves. So, so much love for all of you. Hold yourself tight, it won’t always be dark.

Who Are You Letting Cut Your Trees?

Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing. - Lori Buchanan

July was a MONTH.

When I say I was being tested, I mean it. It was exam month and there were some very strange tests. One of the most revealing tests was the cutting of my trees. Not figuratively cutting my trees but the actual physical cutting of my trees in my yard.

I was floating in my pool on my unicorn float when I looked over and noticed that a whole branch of my favorite tree was cut off. I said out loud “What the hell happened to my tree?” My eight year old daughter replied “Oh yeah, the neighbor told daddy the other day that she trimmed our tree and was that okay?”

Was that okay? My brain exploded. I am an adult and I have the understanding that if you have a tree in your yard that hangs into another person’s yard, that they are allowed to trim it so that it doesn’t interfere with their mowing or if it is damaging their property. This was not that. A whole limb was missing that was completely on my property, facing my house. I love my trees and I love them to be as wild and natural as they need to be within reason. This is my weeping cherry tree that blooms with the most delicate pink blossoms in the spring and brings me joy and delight beyond words. Cut, naked, vulnerable now to disease and insects.

The next morning I get a message that the neighbor on the other side of me wants to cut the bottom branches of my pine tree and chop another tree in my yard down. My husband gave permission to cut the bottom limbs before asking me and I was upset. Like I said, I like my trees to be natural and wild. Pine trees don’t always have needles on their bottom branches but there is no need to cut them off. The other pine tree they wanted to cut down only has needles on it’s top 25 percent but it is still a living tree. I have no desire to cut it down. I was so distraught and upset that I just told them I had no desire to cut it down but if they felt they had to, go for it. I felt defeated and pushed but I did tell them that I at least appreciated the text since my other trees were just cut without my permission. They wrote back that they would wait on cutting the tree down for a bit. I cried.

I could not understand what the hell was happening. Never in my life had I ever looked at my neighbors landscaping, flowers or trees and decided that I could tell them what to do with it or just do what I wanted and tell them they were welcome that I took care of it for them.

The next day I left on a camping trip with my friend. We had 4 hours in the car to talk about life. I talked about my trees, about my recent experiences with relationships in my life and the tests I felt I was facing. It was becoming clear.

BOUNDARIES

My trees, my property. My decisions, my life. My beliefs, my business. My no, back off. My space, get out. Your opinion, not needed.

The people in my life were ignoring, plowing through, disregarding, and disrespecting my boundaries and me. The trees were the simplest form of this boundary violation but also the easiest for me to grasp. It is harder to see emotional, spiritual, and psychological violations, but they were all happening in my life in July.

Physical violations that I could see were adding up though. My friend and I did a lot of hiking and started to notice that many people just walked right into our space and expected us to move. The first few times we were like, “oh, sorry” and moved over. Then we started to look at each other and notice that we were not even being seen. That people were physically plowing into us, just like cutting down my trees. I started saying out loud “Stop cutting my trees!” whenever I felt violated. It became my boundary call.

One evening we were at a restaurant eating dinner. There was a group of obnoxious drunk men sitting together near the entrance/exit. They were loud, inappropriate, and condescending to the waitress. She played along, as waitresses often have to in that situation, but they were gross.

When we got up to leave they all started harassing me about my Michigan State shirt that I was wearing. Normally I would laugh and joke like the waitress had to but not tonight. I’d had enough. I did not smile, I did not joke and I did not stay silent. Instead I just kept saying loudly “I wear what I want!” until I was out of their heckling zone. Step one of reinforcing my boundaries and letting them be known and heard.

Step two would be letting my neighbor know that there would be no cutting of trees on my property without MY permission.

Step three would be cutting off a relationship that was causing me trauma, emotional upset, and harming me spiritually. The person that I had to cut off was very dear to me and someone I had trusted deeply. This person had been a trusted companion on my journey of self-love, healing trauma, and spiritual re-connection. This step would hurt in execution but be very damaging if not completed. This person became unsafe to me. It became a situation where words and actions didn’t add up, commitments were not kept, agreements were broken, boundaries were disregarded and spiritual connection was used as a weapon. This person’s behavior was erratic and disturbing and despite numerous attempts at me asking that it not be brought to me, they continued to drop it at my doorstep.

The worst kind of hurt is one where your vulnerabilities and trust are used against you in order for the other person to justify their behavior, manipulate you into doing what would be best for them, or to try to make you doubt your trust in yourself. A close second to that hurt is when they ask you to explain how they hurt you so that they can “understand what they are doing wrong”. If you don’t know that cutting someone else’s tree down is wrong, hearing me say it isn’t going to help you, just re-injure me. When someone spends a month telling you that what you are doing is hurting them and to stop and go away and you in fact do not stop or go away, you cannot be upset when that person does not want to sit down and chat with you about why they are hurt. It is like chopping, chopping, chopping the tree while it weeps-then sitting on its fallen branches with sawdust on your face and in your hair, asking the tree why it is weeping.

I do not tolerate this in my life. Not anymore. Not after this July. If you have been told by me repeatedly that what you are doing is hurting me and you are still wielding your ax, do not expect me to stand there and let you keep chopping anymore. Do not expect tearful begging for you to change or my understanding of your good intentions for trying to cut at me. Just know that boundaries are going up without explanation. That my yard, my life, my trees, my spirituality, my emotions, my needs and desires are my business and unless you have been invited into my yard, my life, spirituality, by ME, you will be met with a boundary.

Finally, I want to thank my neighbors and my relationships, and my Higher Power for this lesson. I hated it. I cried, a lot. I lost sleep, gained weight, and lost a friend. In the end, I know I will lose more. What I am gaining is maturity, self-love, health, and trust in a power greater than me to bring into my life the opportunities to do life differently. I have gained understanding of who I want in my yard, who is there because they just want to celebrate it for it’s wild, natural beauty, and who wants to come in with an ax behind their back trying to change it. My voice that stands up for me got a lot of exercise and is now louder, stronger, and more resolute. I’m hurting but I am grateful. I have never felt stronger, more clear, or more connected to myself and my God of my understanding.

I hope my sharing this helps you find your voice, your no, and your strength. If it upsets you or makes you start to question whether or not you will be welcome in my yard, save us both the trouble and check behind you for an ax before you even make the trip, because I won’t hesitate to check before letting you in.

Be Well.

Taking Care of Myself

It has been a long road to learn how to take good care of myself.

I used to love this picture. I thought I looked amazing. I had done one year of weight watchers and had gotten to my goal weight of 130 lbs. I had actually gone below it when this photo was taken. My size 6 jeans were baggy and my goal had been to get to an 8. When I looked at this photo and the others that were taken, I thought, I did it! I was healthy and thin. Well one of those things was true. I was thin.

I was not healthy in most ways. Weight Watchers had taught me a lot about portions, good fats, drinking enough water, etc. but I was also using sugar substitutes, starving myself if I wanted to have birthday cake that night, and obsessing over everything I put in my mouth. I was not really exercising just restricting my food. Yes I learned some things about cooking and eating healthier, I was also super annoying about where I ate and what and cried a lot because I wouldn’t allow myself to eat what I wanted.

At this time I was also living with chronic pain. I had lower back and abdominal cramping and pain daily. I sat with a heating pad on my mid section on most days and had a lot of stomach issues. Turns out I had a cyst on my ovary that was very angry and endometriosis. It took many months of me getting ultrasounds, images taken of my mid-section, etc. for this to be diagnosed. My periods were unbearable and heavy and I was miserable most of the time.

So I had surgery to remove the cyst one week before this picture was taken. SURGERY-to remove a part of my body. I remember asking the doctor if I could travel because we had planned to drive to St. Louis Missouri for thanksgiving to be with family. I remember the doctor looking at me strangely and saying “you can if you want to”. It had not occurred to me that we wouldn’t. One week was enough. I could do this. I could rally.

My restrictions were that I had to rest, not drive, not lift anything heavy, and not do stairs or do anything strenuous like sweeping, vacuuming, or carrying laundry baskets up stairs. I allowed myself two days of rest. I slept in a chair and let others care for myself and my children. After that I started testing and pushing what I was supposed to do. I started doing housework, I was going up and down the stairs, etc.

Less than a week after surgery, we were in the car headed to St. Louis. I was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t take the pain meds the doctor gave me because they made me dizzy and nauseous. So I had my heating pad, my pillows and my Advil. I was supposed to wear loose fitting clothing. Nothing like jeans that could pull at or irritate my stitches.

The first time I really broke the rules my doctor gave me was at a rest stop on the way when I lifted my two year old daughter onto the toilet. I felt immediate pain and regretted it. But I thought, what am I going to do? She cannot reach the toilet herself. It never occurred to me to ask my other child to help or to have her go with my husband.

This continued. We were potty training twin two year olds. I lifted them on and off the toilet that whole trip. And I was in pain and I was bleeding more than I should have been because of it. Also that trip, I did not rest. I went to a park, a children’s museum, out to eat, and to get family pictures taken. Just before this picture was taken, I had taken my child to the bathroom, which meant I lifted her up. I had started bleeding an alarming amount in the bathroom but just doubled up on pads and vowed to take it easy.

I lied to myself. I wore jeans, I got onto and off of the ground posing for family pictures, I lifted up and held my children for cute pictures and totally threw my body under the bus. And I can guarantee you that I did not rest after.

When I got home after that trip, I was worse off than before I went. I wasn’t healing. How could I? On top of that we found out that the ovary they removed during surgery was the only one I had. I was thrown into menopause and was told I would need to be on hormone replacement therapy for the next 20-30 years of my life.

My body did not know what to do with this new information. I was in pain, bleeding, depressed, having mood swings, hot flashes, insomnia, memory problems, foggy brain, zero sex-drive, and no idea how to live in the body and brain I just inherited.

Needless to say, that was a rough year. I’m just now starting to forgive myself for how I treated my self and my body that year. I hated it and abused it. I fought against it, didn’t listen to it and pushed it to its limits.

A few years later, I would find myself at the bottom of a pit of depression that would threaten my quality of life in a very real way. Years of neglecting to take care of myself, maybe even a lifetime of it, had caught up to me.

I got help. Doctors, medications, therapists, friends, family, and God, all had a part in helping me out of that hole. Sometimes years have to pass before we can see and know what was really going on. I used to look at these pictures and long for that body, that hair, that skin but now I look at it and am grateful not to be her anymore.

I often think that I would give anything to be a size 6 again and to have a smaller body, but would I? Would I want to go back to crying in restaurants because everyone else ordered yummy food and I was eating another salad with fat free dressing? Would I want to go back to beating my body into submission and pumping it full of artificial sweeteners and Diet Coke? To forcing it past it’s limits and ignoring its signs that I was doing damage?

No. I’ll take this.

Me. In a pants size I4-18 depending on the store. Me, smiling because I’m really happy. Me, having eaten pizza with my family and not cried in my salad. Who was that tiny little body for? Me? I’d rather have this one than the abuse and neglect that came with the old one. This one is filled up with love, laughter, sadness, and healing. It is warm and comforting to my children because at the end of the day, it has been listened to and cared for and loved-filled up so it can give out. It is aware of its limits and it is rested.

I am writing this post mostly for me. So I can come back and read the truth every time I want to look back at that first picture with envy, with longing, and with self-shame that my body doesn’t look like that anymore. I need to remember the pain that came with that body. Because I have moments when I hate this body I’m in. When I cry in Dunhams because I cannot zip the extra large ski jacket around my hips and I wish for a smaller body. That little body was a wrapping over an ugly truth. My largeness of spirit and love I have now is requiring a different package. Maybe someday I’ll have both. A fit and trim body that is covering a huge, healthy, and radically loved soul. Maybe not. But for now, I’m doing my best to live in the truth. And the truth is that I’ve never taken better care of myself. I’ve never listened to my body more. I’ve never been happier with the level of care and attention I give myself in a physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and creative way.

So I guess my last thought for those of you reading this would be, ask yourself what picture of me is more acceptable to you? If it is still the skinny me-why? Why after knowing the truth of the level of abuse you know I went through within myself is that still what you would rather me be than what I am? And finally, what do you do to yourself to make yourself acceptable to you and others?

Be kind. Love yourself. Take care.