Category: Musings

Time Outs P.S.

WarriorLara

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Sometimes, just sometimes, my time outs are a chance for me to separate myself from the crowd so I can just vent. I go somewhere alone and let it all loose.  I allow myself to have a great, knock down, full on temper tantrum – yelling, cussing, feet stomping, the works. I let it all out in a safe place that doesn’t impact others.  Then I take a few deep breaths, ground it all out and clear the air of negative energy.

There’s nothing wrong with momentary releases of pent up frustration as long as we don’t take others down with us.  Safely release and then let it all go.

 

Time Outs

WarriorLara

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Sometimes there can be no words. Or at least no adequate words to say to someone when a curve ball of life has been thrown at them.  Especially if it is someone who’s black and blue already from trying to dodge a lot. In those times when yet one more thing has happened all we can do is be there, give them a hug, and walk alongside them.

I’m also learning that during these times of dodging and weaving I need to step away for a while to regroup and re-center myself before I try to engage too much with people around.  Take a quick time out isn’t just for little kids who’ve done something they weren’t supposed to do.  Time outs give us a chance to say to the world “I just can’t right now. Give me a few minutes to reset my brain, my heart, and my body.”

As adults we often think we need to just suck it up and keep moving.  Allowing ourselves to take a time out can leave some of us (me for sure sometimes) feeling weak and ineffective.  However I’m coming to realize that time outs are one of the easiest, best ways for us to put our self-care and our health first.  It is 100% okay to say we need to focus on our own needs first.  If we don’t do it, no one else will for us.

I’m doing a bit of dodging and weaving this weekend as is Kateri and a few others within our Avalon community. I’m betting there are a lot of folks out there dodging and weaving things being thrown at them quickly and out of nowhere.  I am encouraging us all to take time outs when we feel our inner stress level rising.  Stop, go to a quiet place, take some deep cleansing breaths, and let go.  As we allow ourselves to just settle into the moment, not trying to figure out the future in any way shape or form, perhaps we can settle into a calmer, more grounded space,  At least that is my hope my myself and all of us.

All will be well and all is well!

Out Loud

WarriorLara

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I’ve learned a valuable lesson in the past several weeks. Well let’s just say it’s a lesson that has sunk into my head a little bit deeper.  It’s something I’ve known for a long time but I’ve been given lots of opportunities recently to practice putting it into action.

The lesson is this – People can’t read my mind and if they can’t ready my mind then they can’t possibly help me do the things I need help with.  Just because it maybe screaming inside my head “I can’t do this alone. I need help.” it doesn’t mean anyone but me can hear that screaming.  I know that I am surrounded by lots of people who are more than willing to help me; I just have to ask OUT LOUD.

Another level of this learning is that just saying I need help without clear times, tasks outlined, and tools that are needed isn’t enough for many folks.  Without all of the information requests can feel vague and borderless.  People’s hesitation to say yes isn’t necessarily because they don’t want to it can be they just need more info.

I am learning I need to live my whole life out loud, not just my grieving/healing journey.  Why do I stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth?  Maybe because they can be so jumbled in my mind.  I worry it will come out in such an incoherent way that no one will understand me.  Or I worry that if I start the tumble I won’t be able to stop it.

I (we?) so often feel overwhelmed by all that we need to do. That to-do list gets longer and longer and longer feeling more daunting as it grows.  I wish other would help me. I can even feel resentful as I run around like chickens with my head cut off, wishing others around me would just help me. But the busier I get, the quieter I can become and then no one knows that I need help.

I have to ask for help in specific ways.  When I do it’s amazing the response that I usually get.  Every time I have asked for a specific need for help at specific times with specific parameters, I have received lots of replies of “Yes I can do that.”   Or, I’ve received replies of “No I can’t help with that. Would this help?”

 

My commitment to living out loud in every time, every moment is a habit I am working to entrench deep within my entire being.  When I do I least give myself a fighting chance to get all the help I need. And I give others a chance to be there for me as they can.  It seems so simple when I write it out.

Vague request = Vague or no response

Specific request = Specific answer

Pretty simple equation isn’t it. Then, why is it so hard?

 

My children – my greatest gifts

WarriorLara

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Ack, I almost forgot to write today.  I’ve already made it 3 days in a row this week and I want to commit to writing everyday. Actually I AM committing to writing everyday, at least a little bit, because writing here does so much for keeping me moving forward. I am seeing my blog posts like stepping-stones that I am laying one at a time on the path in front of me. Step by step, inch by inch, I see myself clearer.

Tonight I am filled with gratitude for the wonderfulness that is my 3 children.  I don’t write very often hear about them because this is the place to tell my story as I experience my life.  I try not to tell other people’s stories or assume that I could possibly know what they are feeling or experiencing.  I leave it to them to tell when and if they want to share.  It is theirs and it is best to stick with telling my own.

Tonight though I am filled with such awe and love for all 3 of my kids that I need to just share a little bit.  Each and every one of them reached out to me, requesting to spend special time with me alone.  This from 3 teenagers – Kateri is 19, Soren is 18, and Demetri is 14.  I’ve reveled in my time alone with each of them; being together, sharing stories, memories and ideas, making food, eating food, talking, laughing, dreaming, and helping each believe a little bit more in ourselves.  Joy, just pure joy having these special moments with each of them, per their request!

I have always been “in love” with these wonderful people who I am deeply honored to call my own.  There is nothing I love more than spending time with them.  They are smart, loving, compassionate, respectful, fun, and amazing people.  How I ever got so lucky to be their mom is beyond me!

Watching them grow and unfold in the past year and half has been a thing of mystery for me.  I have watched as they have tried new things, met new people, learned to put self-care first and family a close second, been faithful to friends, made choices true to who they are seeking to become, found strength inside themselves they never knew they had, been willing to reach out for help as well as consistently reach out to others in need, and loved me and each other through it all.   I’ve always loved watching them grow and learn, but this past year and a half has been an exceptional time of witnessing their inner awesomeness shine through.

I walk, with deep gratitude, alongside each one of them as they are finding their own way in this world.  I walk with them trying to allow them to make their own choices and help them figure out the hard parts that sometimes arise from those choices.  I trust them to always have my back and the backs of one another.  I have more fun adventuring with them and learning about the things that bring them joy than I ever thought possible.   Hearing each of them excitedly share with me something new they are trying is wonderful.  Knowing that they believe I will always love them and support them no matter what helps me believe I am doing a whole lot of things right with them.

The stories of their lives are still theirs to tell.  I’m just happy to say that my story has them in it if every single day.  To love our children is a given I think.  To like our children and have them like us right back – now that is pure gift!

 

 

I know because I have

WarriorLara

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I am committed to writing a blog post everyday.  Writing fuels me and heals me and leaves me feeling like I’ve shared something of value with the world even if it’s just a small piece of one woman’s story.  The last few days I have written of things that popped up in my morning reflection time.  Today nothing is coming to the surface which allows me to share something I wrote last week (after the death of our oldest farm cat, Sammy) waiting for an opportunity to share it here. Starting my day writing here leaves me feeling like I’ve at least got 1 thing done each day.  It’s a great way to start my day.

What fuels you and heals you? How can you make that part of the start of your day?  How can you say YES to you first and foremost!

 

Loss is different now.  Each little loss of an animal at the farm used to devastate me, knock me out and to the ground for days, sometimes weeks depending upon the situation.  I used to wonder, after each death, if I could really run a large farm with a lot of older animals.  The chances for more frequent loss is higher than many other farms might experience. Each death impacted me so much. I would experience great sadness and guilt that I hadn’t done more, fear I had somehow missed something leading to the death.

That all changed, at least to some extent, with Russell’s death.  The depths of my sadness, fear, confusion, guilt and imbalance I’ve had to work through and clear out since his death has given me a far different perspective on death of others.  Other losses since then can leave me feeling sad but I’ve learned to bend like a strong willow tree much more easily now.

Once a month I get a week long reminder of how strong I really am and how far I have come.  The 13th is the anniversary date of Russell going into the hospital, the slide into Cuckoo Luckoo Land. The 20th is the anniversary date of his death. And everything in between is layers and layers of memories.

Every month the 13th – 20th is an opportunity to remember to use all of the tools in my self-care bag.  This bag is full of lots of tools that help me stay grounded, open to allowing things to flow as they will, shield myself from outside influences, be deeply grateful for all that I have and breathe, Just Breathe.  In this bag are breathing techniques, clearing tools, meditations, songs that heal, movements that keep the flow going, choices that soothe the weariness away, and so much more.  Dozens and dozens of valuable tools that I can often forget to pull out and actually use.   But this one week is a consistent reminder that I have tools that I know I can use, because I already have.

This week is a reminder to not allow outside things and people to control me.  Listening to my truest self, the wisdom of me that tells me what is best for me, this is what I remember to do.  We can never understand another’s journey, another person’s deepest needs, even if they are walking a similar path as our own.  I am reminded that I can listen to MY wisdom voice because I already have.

This week is a reminder that I can breathe, JUST BREATHE, through anything.  When all else starts to spin, no answers seem clear and the way ahead is foggy I can just breathe. I remember because I already have.

I am reminded that I am the Willow Tree  – strongly rooted, stretching my arms up to the sky, providing a shelter of branches, able to bend without breaking and so very strong. The things that I am able to withstand in life go far beyond what I every imagined for my life.  I am far, far stronger than I every knew I could be.  I know because I have already experience all of these things.

I am reminded that LOVE surrounds me and flows through me. I can choose to respond with love and light, feeling grateful for every little gift. I can choose to seek love and welcome it when it is given to me. I can choose to recognize that I am never alone.  I can choose to believe that love is the most powerful thing I will ever experience.   I know this because I already have.

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I am reminded that letting go and trusting that all will be well is the only way for me to find healing and become whole.  If I try to have all of the answers, understand all of the whys and make sense out of everything I become more lost. When I let go, allowing myself to live in the mystery I somehow find my path.  I know because I already have.

Each death now opens another door for me, peels back another layer of my cocoon. Death is a part of life and I can dance between the light and the dark, in that glorious space where love resides, in the misty Shadowlands of Great Mystery.  I know all of this because I already have. I already have.

Baby Steps

WarriorLara

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Baby steps – tentative, wobbly, tiny movement forward, slow, quiet.  These are the steps that a baby takes when they are first learning to walk.  The movement forward is slow going as the young one gains confidence with the new way of moving their body.  Falls happen a lot and so they learn the need to pick one’s self up over and over and over again.  Sometimes there is a return to crawling when baby steps walking just feels too slow.

I really don’t spend the majority of my days anymore consumed with grief.  Most of the time I am well beyond baby steps, moving forward in new directions and with new dreams with confidence and hope.  For the past several months especially I’ve been clearing out a lot of internal clutter, expanding my work web, trying new things and moving forward with new ideas.   I’ve been gaining strength and feeling ready to step out a little stronger and a little broader in the world.

I see a counselor several times a months. I have a large support network of friends and family both near and far who I know are there for me.  I speak out loud of my fears and concerns, releasing some of the strange hold these things can have over us if we leave them bottled up inside.  I walk in nature, often barefoot, a lot; the power of nature to heal is amazing. I am beginning to put turn into reality dreams I’ve held for a long time.  I sleep well including napping when I most need it.  I am back to getting regular chiropractic care – ah my body thanks me.  I am eating more healthy. I am connected to my children and have open communication with them about their own journeys.  I laugh, I cry, I dance (not often enough), I ask for help, I write, I dream, I love.

I think that is part of why the darker times as I call them catch me so off guard.  I consistently do a lot of things that focus on living a healthier and more whole life. Everyday I return to things that help ground me, center me and heal me.  Everyday I release a little bit more of the sorrow that still would like to suck me down into the deep.  Everyday I find a little bit more of the old me and discover who the new me wants to be.   But when the darker times, those heavier parts of myself rise up wanting to be heard, come over me I can feel rocked to my core and wonder if I have made any strides forward or if I am simply spinning my wheels.  Even baby steps forward seem an impossibility during these times. But the irony is that listening to and honoring the wisdom of these darker times is exactly what I need to continue my transformation.

So I return to the wisdom of baby steps rather than trying to move in leaps and bounds right now.    After each dive into the depths of my emotions I return cleansed, more whole, a little wiser, and a little wobbly for a while.  At these times it is wisest if I return to the knowing that, just like a baby learning to walk, I need  a hand to hold onto sometimes as my legs become stronger.   I do not journey my life alone, nor do I really want to.

I return to knowing that if walking is just too slow I can move back to crawling for a while as my confidence grows. Returning to the things that are so easy to do, so much a part of my core being may feel like a step backwards but really it is part of the rebuilding my belief in myself.  It’s okay to go backwards as often as I need to in order to figure out the path forward.

I return to knowing that a baby doesn’t worry about where they should be on their journey or even where they have been.  They just focus on taking the next little step.  Here and now, in this time, this moment, that is all there is. This baby step is all that matters.

I return to knowing that each and every baby step I take is one to be celebrated.   I think of when my kids were taking their first steps. We celebrated each step as if they had just won a marathon.  I need to return to that knowing rather than allow myself to feel frustrated with how far I think I still have to go to reach some distant goal I’ve set for myself.  Patience and celebration.

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I return to knowing that I am not the only one baby stepping her way to a new understanding of herself or on a healing path.  I think many of us are taking baby steps forward on our life journeys. Some of us are more aware of that than others. I just happen to believe that part of my life’s purpose is to speak of journey.

I return to knowing that learning to walk and taking baby steps is a journey of joy.  Falls are met with laughter.  Taking the first step is met with cheering. Taking a series of steps is met with smiles and way to gos.  Tears may come out at times during falls or wobbly times,  but overall it is a journey of joy.  Joy for each and every baby step.  One step, just one step is a cause for celebration.  That I can do each day!

Dive on in

WarriorLara

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“Hold it in. Don’t let them see you cry.  Just let it go. Move on with your life.  Get over it already.  Push through. You’ve got to do your job.  People don’t want to hear it anymore. Don’t wallow in things.  Get on with it.”

These messages come through from somewhere. I don’t recall directly hearing these but these can run like ticker tapes through my head.  I honestly have no one in my life who is saying these things directly to me.  But somehow these “suck it up” messages are part of my thought process because I can hear them play in my head if I’m having a rough time that I just can’t seem to shake.  The longer I try to hold it in, not cry and just keep pushing through the more of a mess I become.   Each day that I try to ignore the depths of emotion welling up inside of me the less I am able to get much of anything done.  As I shove things away, trying to stay focused on getting tasks done, it’s as if an internal top starts spinning faster and faster and faster.

Instead I’m learning to dive into the emotion, especially when it flares up inside me with the fierceness and quickness of a summer storm.  When things finally come to a point that I must stop all I am doing and face whatever storm has arisen inside of me I am finding it is much healthier for myself and those around me if I completely tap out for a day and dive deep into the sadness and confusion before me.   I am learning to stop listening to the ticker tape messages in my head replacing them with ones of self-love, care, and allowing myself to dive deep into the exact place I need to be in each moment.

Some would see my dives as wallowing in sadness, and some days I judge myself that way. There seems to be a time limit that is placed upon feeling deep emotions and the further out from the initial event the less time we should spend thinking about it or feeling the aftershocks of it.  If you’ve got to cry again do it quick and get back to the task at hand. However my experience of allowing myself to dive into the emotion, feeling it as deeply and as long as I truly need to is that I am then able to be in a clearer space, a more healed place upon my return.

What amazes me is that each time I finally give myself permission to tap out of expectations to “suck it up and just keep moving” and dive into all that I am feeling, I come back out feeling more whole and truly ready to move again.  It’s as if the dive into the murky, darker places of intense emotion shake things up to the point that I  no longer feel clogged and stuck.  I can almost feel my whole body shift as I cry, scream, feel and dive on in. I can hear that deep, inner self say “thank you for listening to me and honoring me.” I can feel love wrap around me as I say yes to me and what I most need.

I wonder what would happen if I gave myself permission faster to tap out and dive on into the emotions swirling inside of me. I wonder if I would be able to quiet those negative, ticker tapes running through my thoughts if I said yes to the quiet voice inside of me saying “taking the day off and dive in”.   I wonder if I would feel better sooner and have less days that felt like I was trying to move through quicksand.  Probably.  It’s worth trying.  I’m worth trying!

 

 

 

I’m learning

WarriorLara

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Grief is a long, twisty, bizarre journey .  I’ve been feeling good overall, feeling as if my heart has healed a lot and I’m ready to move forward with life in ways I hadn’t been previously.  I’ve felt ready for something.  But I’ve  not really known what that something might be.  I’ve tried this and that, wondered this and that, moved forward on this and that.  But there is no this or that catching my attention past the point of taking the first steps forward on a path.  I am living in the hope that something, anything will just grab me and scream to me “Yes, this can feed your soul enough to carry you through the rough days.”  I keep moving forward, one tiny step at a time.

I’m realizing today that this second year of grieving the death of Russell is even more treacherous to journey than the first.  The path is so much more foggy.  Life has taken over and I spend most of my days dealing with work, helping my children figure out their journeys, and spending time with family and friends.  I don’t as much as I want to.  I am caught up in living a life.  I am trying to just live.  I go for weeks feeling stable, whole, and able to handle life. And then something triggers me and I find myself in the midst of one of those darker places again.

I think of Russell. I miss him everyday.  The kids and I talk about him more now than we could a year ago.  We dream of adventures.  I pay my bills.  I line up doctor’s appointments.  I try to eat healthy.  I cook more.  I laugh some everyday.  I talk to Russell in my head of how proud of our children I am.

I am also finding that my heart is hurting so much the past few weeks.  And little things can pop up that leave me feeling as if I’m unraveling all over again.  I know that I am strong but I am feeling weaker as time goes along rather than stronger.  And than I realize that this second year, this year of rebuilding and integrating the shock of last year, has so many lessons to learn.

I’m learning to tap out again, just like I did much of last year.  There are just some days, some moments that I just need to be away from the world.  In those moments I collapse into myself, sob a lot, and hide under the covers for at least a few hours.

I’m learning to not feel guilty about continuing to place great emphasis upon my self-care and encouraging my kids to do the same.  There is a part of me that believes I need to suck it all up and just get the job done, no matter what my emotional state might be.  I do work hard most days on many, many things. But other days I give into the need to focus primarily on self-care.

I’m learning to find the one or two things that I can do each day that always make me smile.  Usually these involve my children or my pups.

I’m learning that the unraveling I experience is needed so that I can start to weave a new life web. I’m strengthening the strands of my web, spinning new ones, and dreaming.

I’m learning that I need to write everyday, and not just in my journal.  Blogging feeds my soul in ways I can’t quite understand.  There is something about writing and sharing my journey – the good, the bad, the challenging, the easy – that heals me and gives me purpose.  Even if the writing is short I think I need to start blogging everyday, no matter what.  Considering I have the topics for at least 15-20 blog posts already written down it should be fairly easy to do.

I’m learning that not knowing what I want to change in my life is okay.  I’ve got to settle into this unknowing place as a good, normal place for me right now.

I’m learning that part of what makes me strong is being able to say I’m not strong all of the time.

I’m learning that grieving impacts us on such a deep and broad level that it can take a very long time to rebuild our lives and learn to still be able to move even when those little things try to pull the rug out from under us again.

I’m learning that just when I think I’ve got this grieving thing under my belt, it is really that a new layer of learning is being reached.  Just because I have bad days or rough weeks it doesn’t mean that I’m not healing or that I’m not strong.

I just need to be sharing my story, not worrying if others get it or if they are even listening or how rambling my writing seems to be to me.  My path doesn’t have to be a linear one, it just has to be my path. I don’t know why it feels so important to share my story. Maybe because it’s one of the few things that seems to come easily to me.   There is so much in my life that seems hard to do or figure out still.  Writing, sharing my life journey, loving my children, listening to other people’s stories, these are the things that seem real to me. These things feed my soul.

I’m learning!

 

Place of Readiness

WarriorLara

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It is in this place at Avalon, by our pond, that I’ve just written for the past hour and a half. Writing, for the first time, of my slide into Cuckoo Luckoo land 18 months ago today and putting into words my memory of that day.

I wrote not out of a painful place but rather out of a place of readiness. Another door was opened, another layer of my cocoon peeled away this afternoon. The compulsion to write came over me so fiercely as I was driving I almost pulled off the road …to write in that spot. But I knew I needed to be here, at Avalon, on land that is Sanctuary for me. So I wrote in my head and waited.

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It’s not time to share the story of that day out loud yet. It was enough to write it, knowing that when I write my book the story will need to be told.

I am breathing deeply and freely in awe of the Muse gift that comes to me. I am smiling as I stand barefoot upon the grass I just laid upon writing of Russell and our story. As I write this story I feel him cheering me on, believing in me as he always did.

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In this time, this moment I am filled with love and light as I continue my journey through the shadowlands. I know I am not alone.

 

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