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…

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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

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Days of silence

There are those moments that moves you to the core…

Sometimes days pass in silence. Maybe thoughts and emotions are being processed. Maybe life passes in a flow of nothingness.

Either way not much is being written. However, I have learned to listen to the writing voice now. In a similar way I don’t have to stress about how fast or how many pages I read my spiritual readings, nor do I have to worry the guidance to write won’t come back.

The past days I have geared up my work a little bit more. It is quite a bit until it is where I want it, but considering the darkness I found myself I am happy about the progress. Focus and energy comes easier by the day.

Less and less do I look around. I know roughly where I want things to go, so most things select themselves. And then there are those moments of confusion and waves of worry or scarcity – but they blow over faster and faster now. Like I can hold my own steering wheel more firmly now.

Then there are those moments that moves you to the core. They also cause deep silence.

Lately I found out that it is possibly that I didn’t had the picture regarding a certain family situation completely right. At the same time, I can fully understand why this person maybe didn’t tell me the whole truth. Why I was left to my own understanding and believes.

Things simply are too painful to talk about sometimes and maybe I wasn’t the best sounding board either at the time. I wrote a whole post about it, but decide not to publish it. Maybe the subject will come again another day. For now, it is better off deleted.

I rely on myself, but more importantly, I have started to slowly trust my own ability again. That is almost worth more than money in the bank.

I am getting there. 311 signals to go.

Image courtesy MrWildLife at 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