On the floor

It is late evening.
Nothing is going according to plan. The adrenaline is flowing to the level I can almost hear it in my ears.
I have nowhere to turn…

It is late evening.

Nothing is going according to plan. The adrenaline is flowing to the level I can almost hear it in my ears.

I have nowhere to turn. No one to call or to talk too.

I try to talk to one of my kids. She explicitly tells me she doesn’t feel good if I am cracking up – so she doesn’t want to talk to me.

I sink down on the floor. The dogs think we are finally going to play… I close my eyes and ask myself all those stupid questions you should not ask yourself. Why this and that and why that person…

Go to bed my daughter says. So I do. No washing up or changing. Just falling on to the bed like some drunk.

I wake up with a dog in my face and yesterday’s clothes still on.

I walk out the door. Life is apparently still going on without any difference.

I start to water plants and let animals out. My mind is blank like the surface of a lake.

My tea is ready and I go back in again. I change my chair. I sit down and turn the machines on again.

It looks like my webhost has some problem – my webmail is completely blank – I don’t even bother now. They have recovered it before by themselves and right now – even if I did lose my entire inbox I wouldn’t really care.

That inbox is somehow related to the person having this issues, so probably something wrong with it anyway.

I just sit and look at my screen. I can’t really be that alone can I? The thought goes round and round.

Let us play with the thought I am not. Then there is something I can work on with others here isn’t it? I open the laptop fully now. Type in a few things…

Hmmm maybe maybe in all the chaos I found my purpose…all wrapped up into one…

To be continued.

309 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Paisan191 at www.freedigitalphotos.net

 

Time for surrendering

It is releasing, comforting and grounding at the same time as it is deeply painful. I cry even when…

So here I am, a few weeks later, attending my first facilitated session.

Yep, to really get this, whatever it is out of my system, I figured I couldn’t do it alone. I simply couldn’t see myself for all my selves so to speak.

So this is what I do now every Sunday. Clearing my energy and do facilitated meditation combined with healing conversations.

It is releasing, comforting and grounding at the same time as it is deeply painful. I cry even when meditating. Tears swimming over and very slowly rolling down my face. I don’t even try to catch or stop them.

To me meditation is like bubbles coming down from the sky to greet you. Slowly they surround you to eventually encapsulate you in their safe white light. They become so many suddenly it is like you are sitting in a whole sea of them – bubble bathing.

When I breathe through my heart it bleeds and colours the bubbles pink.

I sit.

Very still.

In the pain.

My intellectual side can’t entirely figure it out. I want it to be obvious and clear and something I can fix. But I can’t. It has been with me almost since my first memories as a very young child. This sorrow my mother hated so much. Or at least that was what I thought she did. Maybe she simply just didn’t know what to do with it…

So we sit.

The pain and I.

“Universal”, the facilitator says.

Still doesn’t clear anything. Like I am my own riddle I can’t crack.

“Trust that you are guided and it will come to you”.

I get that this is the pain that drives me. That I seek it to heal something. That I hide from it when I can’t handle it anymore. It is why I have the life I have. Why I made all those good or less good choices.

When I leave I am very grounded. Cleared. I parked a bit a way, so I would get a natural walk afterwards. The word unity echoes in my head. It was mentioned in a by passing sentence, but it has stayed with me. And I don’t like it. I don’t want it to be unity. It feels trivial and pathetic somehow.

Surrender women. Surrender.

I keep on walking.

When I come home I reflect that it looks like nobody lives here. Somebody sleeps here, but nothing else. I feel a bit bad about it, but encourage myself that I at least reflect over it. That must be a good sign right?

I feel like I am 12 years old and starting all over again. But I am starting.

Everything has a first step.

312 signals to go. On my way home.

Image courtesy to 9comeback at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Suitcase economy

Life off the social security grid has its ups and its down.

Every time I made any major change in my life it one way or the other has meant a change in my financial situation one way or the other…

Life off the social security grid has its ups and its down.

Every time I made any major change in my life it one way or the other has meant a change in my financial situation one way or the other. Sometimes in plain cash and other times in security or risks.

The fact that I am not alone and so to speak travel with children makes it all less romantic and a big reality checker.

So in my new chapter of my life – without the safety net of any type of parental or family security to return home to if things get rough – the first thing to reinvent is my economy.

How badly do I want certain responsibilities? How bad to I want or need certain things? How bad do I want security? How bad do I want my children to have, do or experience particular things?

So here we go – my bad wish list:

  • I want to feel at peace with people around me
  • I want it to be stress free (also from a health perspective)
  • I want to feel supported and have some sort of safety.
  • I want to be able to leave a situation that is not agreeing with me if need be.
  • I want to feed my soul not killing it.
  • I want my children to be able to go to whatever school they want and to learn from whatever teacher they seek.
  • I want for all of us to afford books, education and learning in whatever forms.
  • I want a strong antenna and a good phone and internet.
  • I want to help where I can without thinking about it twice.
  • I want to have, maintain and keep my animals.
  • I want to eat and exercise whatever I set my mind to even if it means I have to order it or go somewhere.
  • I want to go through life being creative and joyful in all my doings.
  • I want to sleep well, safe and at peace every day.
  • I want it to be something there in regards of financial safety for my children and animals when I would leave this earth.
  • I want my animals to be mobile and have access to transport.

This is what my soul urges for – badly – right now. So let’s explore and get to it.

330 signals to go.

Image courtesy to John Kasawa of www.freedigitalphotos.net

When worry invites itself to the party

I keep forgetting how fragile this process is. The minute my logical mind kicks into gear I think I have all solutions and answers figured out – and then someone tries to push me and I stand my ground (I think) and then, when the moment has passed and I am alone again I sink together and cry…

I keep forgetting how fragile this process is. The minute my logical mind kicks into gear I think I have all solutions and answers figured out – and then someone tries to push me and I stand my ground (I think) and then, when the moment has passed and I am alone again I sink together and cry.

All emotions on the outside. Painfully.

And then all other worry invites itself to the party and it becomes really a crying party.

I have a history with one of my children, which includes really nasty custody battles. Yes -more than one and for many many years. But that is a separate story.

Those incidents created an experience of that being a parent was always up for questioning and even when the years have passed from time to time it still can catch me off guard.

So it is one of my big things I worry about when I am on my knees.

I have had social workers stating I was such a role model doing my work and being able to work internationally and have my kids with me – to those claiming it was not normal for a mother to earn like a man – then I could not be a good woman… Of course I rushed over the first and memorized the later…

So whatever I do is never really satisfying everybody somehow.

I never really understood when people say they do what is best for the children when they clearly suffer – what child is not feeling that? – nor have I understood why we do this and then pretend it is all good and honky dory and never talk about it?

It rips your heart out. Just the idea sometimes. To be apart from your child when it is not out of choice.

Being a single parent, with sole custody and without extended family – this is a constant worry of mine. What of something happens to me? Where would she go? Who would tell her about me? Would she be financially secure? Am I ever enough? Have I done enough? Prepared enough?

Creating memories,  teach her tools to manage life and never go to bed without knowing how much I love her – those are my daily to dos with her – walks and talks.

We are ok.

Again I have to trust Universe doing its part and me doing mine…

We are coming home. 333 signals to go.

Image courtesy to Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

On my own

This is the first day and night I spend on my own since my mother passed away…

This is the first day and night I spend on my own since my mother passed away.

My girls picked up their stuff from the car and returned me the keys and then wandered off to spend a day and a half at a hotel with my ex, swimming in the pool and watching football.

All so that I “could work”.

First I kept busy studying, researching, writing emails – put this blog out there for the first time – trying to understand html coding…

…got myself so worked up I ended up writing a deep and long email about the mental mobilization required to launch an online campaign…to the technical support [do-not-reply-to-this-email] guy whose name is probably something I can’t pronounce, but I call him Henry.

By that time even my conscious brain was registering that this u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e.

I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow I have to get from A to B.

And I didn’t want to cry sitting alone at a café[people always look horrified when you do –like they would have to do something – when you are two they can somehow pretend it is not up to them and at least try to look sympathetic].

I have cried a lot by myself this last year. Both openly and alone. So now I know and normally I don’t care anymore. If I need to cry I cry. But today everything seemed u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e.

Since I suspected they were talking about me I eventually decided to leave. Smiling casually as if nothing ever happened.

And went to sit in the car.

I don’t like to drive, but I like to sit in the car. Close all doors, pull the seat back, take my shoes off and read or meditate – often I do a lot of hand writing.

When my mother was still alive and in the house I used to do my morning reading in A course of Miracles in the car. As if the distance between the house and the parking lot would have any relevance.

So I try to chill in the car. It works a little bit. I write something. Feeling a little it more in control.

Eventually I decide to drive home.

After being busy feeding and giving water to everybody and dotting around the house I sit down.

We don’t really talk me and the dogs. I mean not out loud. We do our thing, but the is no conversation.

And in the house there are no teenage slamming of doors, no music constantly on somewhere, no phone calls, no playing with puppies – just silence.

Far away traffic, some birds singing, some dog sighing, another one sneezing.

When I sit down, so do they. Nobody moves.

If I do move, they all attend me, rushing up to see if I possible would drop them anything.

I go out in the kitchen making myself a cup of soup and some bread.

Like a ball thrown too hard in your solar plexus the loneliness hits me. But now I can’t cry.

It is stuck somewhere in between.

I am supposed to be the grown up and I feel like calling them right up, telling them to come home right away.

But I don’t.

I take my work calls and pretend everything is just normal…

I miss them s-o-o-o much.

I go back to the laptop. Distract myself. Write all this.

Pretend there is someone on the other side. Just like me. All alone.

Signing out. 345 signals home.