90 seconds on reality

So I am stepping out slowly but surely to the reality. Back to school and back to work and all that.

Somewhere I read that we only hold emotions for 90 seconds… then they blow over.

So if we can only survive those 90 seconds – not responding with another terrorizing emotion or action – we will be grounded back to life again. Which of these lives now – that is…

So I am stepping out slowly but surely to the reality. Back to school and back to work and all that.

Somewhere I read that we only hold emotions for 90 seconds… then they blow over.

So if we can only survive those 90 seconds – not responding with another terrorizing emotion or action – we will be grounded back to life again. Which of these lives now – that is…

I found that I am either conditioned, or shaped, into believing that emotions are good – that is what life is about in fact. The bigger the better. There are 2 backsides to this reasoning however.

One being I only seem to be big on the negative stuff and can barely separate the difference or define the positive ones…

The second is society seem to prefer we are not emotional at all. It is disturbing apparently.

And then the given that once we finally get that we are more than just this body and just this life – then there is the children…and they didn’t ask for neither the way kids don’t.

Is functioning the same as being numbed off and in survival mode? Denying pains, grief and regrets?

Getting stuck in one owns pains or of others is simply overwhelming. To be eye to eye with real suffering is hard. Rape, war, money disasters, death…just to name a few that landed in my inbox this Monday morning. It feels  like one could throw up, call in sick and go and hide under a pillow – but that is not an option in my reality. I can dwell in the 90 seconds and that’s it.

Resourcefulness means something else here. One way or the other you have to move yourself forward. Plant the seeds. Nurture and nurture and nurture again and if everything goes well harvest at some point. Nurturing can also be hard. Children, animals, work, self, family…

So I hold that breath for 90 seconds. Sit in it all and when i let it go I am so out of breath I can’t take another one fast enough – and whatever moment has passed and I can re-focus.

Going home. 299 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Coward Lion at www.fredigitalphotos.net

 

 

 

When being still is over

I have accepted and learned to be still in discomfort. Also in comforts I have yet to tell about. All of us have camped together on a very…

With this post I have reached the 300 signals to find my way back home to myself.

I have accepted and learned to be still in discomfort. Also in comforts I have yet to tell about. All of us have camped together on a very small space. Every little issue and every little pain has unconditionally been welcomed in.

So it has gotten a bit crowded and I don’t want to be still anymore.

I want to explore now and reach outside this little camp. To go and meet the world may be to use too big words at this stage – just a minor stretch for now.

I can always go back right and I know now I actually do still breathe and keep on living after even the biggest fears really happen and to correct mistakes and short comings are not being doomed for failing in the first place.

Life unfolds and we course correct.

As part of exposing my own new journey in different ways I have decided to add also the strategic options and choices I have to do. This includes stepping back out in the world with my head high and let a larger amount of people take take part in my work.

It also includes reviewing, evaluate and re-choose and re-evaluate again and again.

In the same way that I have picked gold nuggets from here and there I hope that any one, who may be in a similar situation, could take advantage of mine. AND. And this is a big and – then there is a money side to every story.

But that is for another day.

Today is about that minor stretch for now.

Be brave and step out.

300 signals to go.

The shadow of shame

…the feeling that has tormented me my whole life. Been the shadow behind every act and every decision.

The feeling that drove me almost to subconsciously rather …

3 weeks since I last  went for my healing combined therapy.

It wasn’t suppose to be this long, but life came in between. Relatives visiting and those type of things. Even now I even overslept…2 whole hours…rescheduled and went 3 hours later.

It was good energy to work with this day she said.

To be on the safe side I arrived 15 min too early and had to sit outside and wait.

From being a very closed person I have cracked. The right word and it takes 5 minutes to have me sit there in all my…let’s be civilized and call it…pain.

This time we talk about shame. The shame of being rejected. Of experience abandonment. The shame of knowing your parent is wrong and you are powerless to do anything about it.

We talk about truth. Betrayal. Distrust. The inner child. The pure innocence we all once were.

As I am suppose to offer comfort to this little girl I feel helpless, unworthy somehow. Who am I to comfort and protect her.

I don’t know if it is her not wanting to be hugged, or me being too uncomfortable to reach out, we silently agree to just sit beside each other. A feeling of complete overwhelm flows over through me. Am I really equipped to take care of her?

I see her innocence and the strength in her purity. It is admirable actually.

We hold hands.

To my surprise it gives me peace and support. All that I wished to give her she is giving me.

I am the weak one.

That is all that is needed – that hand holding me – and that old wise soul looking up at me.

It holds no doubt, no uncertainty – no shame.

Only love, joy and with a shy smile… happiness.

I breathe. I drive home. I fall asleep at my desk.

I wake up early without an alarm. There is a strange peace.

I survived staying in that feeling since my early childhood. The feeling that has tormented me my whole life. Been the shadow behind every act and every decision.

The feeling that drove me almost to subconsciously rather kill myself…

I am saved by my own bell.

I am coming home.

301 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Evgeni Dinev at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Hallelujah – we do NOT belong together

There comes a point when sitting still with discomfort suddenly doesn’t feel as if it is enough anymore. From deep within comes the an urge break through something and shake things up a bit…

There comes a point when sitting still with discomfort suddenly doesn’t feel as if it is enough anymore. From deep within comes the an urge break through something and shake things up a bit.

This is where I have arrived now. The ball is put into motion and can’t be stopped any longer. Without thinking it takes me along on its own journey. before I used to schedule all my have tos, but not anymore. Somehow they are sneaking themselves in higher and higher up – as if it has become a game to bust them all together.

This week I could give myself a high five for, after ten years of official absence, being a paid professional writer again. One should never underestimate the feeling of a work well done. It makes you want more no matter if it is more clients, know new people, mastery of some sort or simply just to really genuinely connect.

I surprise myself by even go back and dig for rejections, just to ensure I picked up on all small points to improve, as well as taking in what was said enough to notice the majority is actually positive. Very positive even.

And neither even feels bad.

It just helps me to see clearly were to go deeper and niche in.

From a long life of people please and trying to be there for everything and everybody it is a breath of fresh air to be able to distinctively say I am this and you are that. We can like each other – but from a far. We DO NOT belong together, so let’s not even try. Hallelujah.

I don’t know how it happened, but it just shifted. I can notice the discomfort – and move on to my own path.

Despite the discomfort I am moving forward.

Finding my way home. 302 signals to go.

Image courtesy to www.dreamstime.com/free-photos

From deep blame to blessing

All self-help-talk in the world, life does happen – all by itself – sometimes.

Bad things.Seemingly bad things.Things that shape us.

It causes pain, turmoil and an instant feeling of unfairness…

All self-help-talk in the world, life does happen – all by itself – sometimes.

Bad things.Seemingly bad things.Things that shape us.

It causes pain, turmoil and an instant feeling of unfairness.

Why me? Why not her? Why does it have to be me all the time?

Well, obviously me is the only person who I know to the extent I could even say that. Or feel that.

And then there is that story. The story about what happened. How we portray it, how we paint it, how we summarize it, how we identify with it – and how we keep telling it again and again, so even if it wasn’t true to begin with – by now it is, because by now it is the only version we memorized, so we know it by heart.

We justify this story with the r-e-a-l facts. Those that can’t be questioned. We are not that type of person are we – we don’t lie, tweak or leave out anything – these are facts!

So we tell ourselves and everybody else anyway.

Now this story, however, has become like a chain we tied ourselves to and we don’t seem to be able to move on or release ourselves from it.

Painfully I am discovering and looking closer at these family stories.

My mother used to complain no one was around really during her growing up. Sure she got an expensive education, but no one never really taught her anything, or at least she considered it, that she didn’t knew anything really properly, having no professional diploma of any kind.

I think no one never taught her how to handle emotions and life – hence numbing it all off with alcohol and pills seemed quite logical.

Obviously I can list hundreds of “facts”, that will justify my pity song of growing up with one single parent who was addicted – however – would her “view”of life really supported me if I took it on? Her way of living catapulted me to over-drive, but it also gave me an incredible creative freedom (no one ever bothered me…) and an undisturbed reliance and trust in myself. Yes, again and again I surround myself with people who wish to take me down – but – deep down that is still my core believe – I can do anything. If she hadn’t been in her comas that wouldn’t have been the case.

It is a blessing.

I was free – and now – I can choose.

Choose to empower and not victimize.

Going home. 303 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Maciej Secowski at www.dreamstime.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

When my soul is black and blue

You throw your issues at me.

Like a gazillion sharp arrows they hit me.

Nails me to your cause…

You throw your issues at me.

Like a gazillion sharp arrows they hit me.

Nails me to your cause.

Stuck you keep me there; it is all your issues, your life, everyone ever done something bad towards you, ignored you or neglected you.

You curse, you swear, you pant and are at me again.

I can barely breath. Your hatred hits me in the stomach and I am out of breathe.

Getting up I try to not disturb you. I draw in the sand.

This is the line, I point at the drawing, that separates you from me.

You do not walkover that line – ever – again.

Walk away it sings in my head as I walk away.

What is it you want I ask myself. If you can’t get what you want, then what is it?

My life? My sanity? What is it that you want from me that you think will heal whatever is broken in you?

I turn and look at the line on a distance. Is it yours or mine?

Did I let myself be pulled over into a territory that was not mine?

I tremble.

I stumble.

I fall.

For f*** sake just leave me alone…I mumble to myself.

I try to get up, but it is hard.

Every arrow has left me a bruise. Black and blue I am.

I don’t cry, but I have no strength anymore.

I look, I prepare, I aim.

I hit you just beside your heart. You look surprised. Didn’t thought I had it in me did you?

We both know I will let you live, but we both also know – this is real.

The pretense is over.

My soul is soar.

My soul is black and blue.

I am going home.

304 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Dariusz Sas at www.dreamstime.com

 

Taking the next step

Someone said manage your money or it will manage you.

I would say …

I hesitate. I drag it out. I stare. I forget to breathe. I am genuinely over-whelmed.

I try to see the priority order, I make small lists trying to see some logical order, so I can stick to that. Trying to hold my own hand.

This is a mountain of resistance – and I have to get through it – and it will feel like hell and when I am through I will look back and wonder what the fuzz was about.

I know this. Yet it is so emotionally pressuring doing it.

And it is all in my head and not understandable for outsiders… taking the next step. Break the next layers of protection I built around myself to feel safe. Stand on my own.Do my own homework and know I done it now. That this time I believe it and I know it.

I drown a little to be able to stay a float a little. Deeper and higher for every time.

Asking for help is not easy either. Pride weighs heavy on me – both my independence as well as family and personal.

Someone said manage your money or it will manage you.

I would say manage yourself or someone else will manage you. And for some reason that sits deep in me – but I have to stay active, be alive and be decisive. Choose how I want to be supported rather than freaked out having to need something in a way I don’t like.

But I don’t run. I sit still. Even when feeling like throwing up and getting out.

So I have to trust my faith, my humbleness and whatever guidance I may be given, that it will lead me right even if it doesn’t make sense to me or I can’t see it for the time of being.

I am on my way.

305 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Vichaya Kiatying-Angsulee at www.freedigitalphotos.net