Posts Tagged ‘emotions’

what on earth is going on
to make this feeling surface again
pushed it back for so long
but to the surface it madly spins
so much strength to carry on like this
the flood gates are opening within
so numb nothing hurts
even where the flame turns blue
the courage to hold your heart outside
everyone can see all the scars
the relief of honesty
the walls tumbling tumbling
what on earth is going on
to see all these images again
learning how to feel
how to exhale the pain
how to embrace the joy
how the heart can be opened to capture everything at once
not running away but standing still
there’s more courage in healing
and feeling for once
have it all piercing the soul
what on earth is going on
just emotions
take a breath and dive in

Read Full Post »

i should write a poem when i’m pissed off,

the words will spit fire from the page,

the images i conjure will illustrate my rage,

but writing a poem when i’m pissed off makes me smile…

and then i’m not pissed off anymore.

i should write a poem about my heart being battered and bruised,

the things i say will tear at your soul,

i’ll lay out all my pieces and you’ll try to console,

but writing a poem about my bruised heart makes the pain go away…

and then i don’t feel so bruised anymore.

i should write a poem when i know i have truth on my side,

the more words i write, the more suspicious it sounds,

even i will start to question the truth that’s lying around…

but writing a poem with truth on my side makes me question,

and then truth isn’t on my side anymore.

i should write a poem when my mind can’t settle down,

the thoughts will be jumbled and completely confused,

the words will leave you more than bemused,

but when i write a poem when my mind is jumbled…

i don’t question the clarity anymore.

i should write a poem when i’m happy and content,

the sappy words would be oh so sweet,

the sticky taste is just a deceit,

but writing a poem when i’m happy and content leaves me bored…

and when i’m bored i’m not happy anymore.

i should write a poem about the cruelty of silence,

i should write a poem about the helplessness of being misunderstood,

i should write a poem about the bravery of just being.

i should write a poem about…

 searching, finding, losing, struggling, holding on and letting go…

 falling down, getting up, being stuck and daring yourself to move…

 being depressed, being relieved, learning to lose and learning to love…

i should write a poem about how we are always always becoming, always…

i think i’ll write a poem…

i got no other plans.

Read Full Post »

Wandering… alone.

Walking through the thoughts that hold me together,

keep me connected to your soul,

tether me to a place that allows me to breathe.

I want to stay here.

I want to never leave.

I want to drown in this rising current.

I want to slip under the wave of emotions that have eluded me for so long.

Wandering… alone.

Drifting with the undercurrent that once threatened to pull me under,

smiling at the jagged edges of my own heart,

laughing at the possibility of another missing piece.

I am moving forward.

I am swimming in the feelings of belonging that pushed me away for so long.

I am whole.

I am real.

I am broken and mended, I am childish and wise, I am piece-milled together and I am perfectly imperfect.

I am remembering how to swim and not just float.

I am learning how to live and not just react.

I am reaching out  and not retreating to the dark cave of my stoney heart…

I am polishing my stoney heart.

I am thinking.

I am feeling.

I am wondering.

I am loving.

I am pausing.

I am hesitating.

I am rushing forward.

I am wandering through this sandy beach and feeling the warmth of the sun…

I am reflecting, not dwelling.

I am learning, not reliving.

I am just a girl,

who once was scared,

who once needed company at the bottom of the water filled cave,

who once lost herself.

I am just a girl, who wandered… alone —

and found a world.

Read Full Post »

My hand has hovered over the “deactivate account” button many times in the last two weeks — but, I can’t seem to drop it down and sever my ties… my connection to the people on the other end. The reasons why I have thought so often about pressing that button are so juvenile that to tell you here would only give you way too much insight into the 12-year-old mind that often overtakes my psyche — so, I won’t. But the reasons why I can’t follow through — why I didn’t and am convinced I won’t follow through might be worth sharing… so, I will.

I can already see the puzzled, “what the hell is she talking about”, look on many faces as you read this. I can also see the smiles beginning to curl around the ends of the lips as the recognition makes it’s self known to you others. In this instance, I’m speaking of Twitter. But, before I lose those of you who don’t use twitter, let me say… it’s about life and connection and friendship and encouragement and anger and intrigue and crushes and flirting.

A few years ago, my 10th high school reunion was scheduled. I very much wanted to be a part of this celebration — to see and to talk and to hug the people who I hadn’t seen for 10 years — the same people who just 10 years earlier I couldn’t make it through a day without connecting with on some level. As fate and timing would have it, it didn’t seem too possible for me to attend. My grandmother had just died and I drove home from Missouri (8 hours) on the day of the reunion as my daughter, then six months old, screamed the entire journey (8 hours). I reached home crying, frazzled, in need to run away and with no intention on making it to the reunion that would begin in less than an hour. My parents practically threw me in the shower and shoved me out the door — so, I went. I had a great time that I can still see vividly in my thoughts, 14 years later. The connection and the flirting and the anger and the friendship were all there — waiting for me to drink it (and a few margaritas) in. Even though I hadn’t spoken to many of these friends in 10 years.

This scenario repeated itself during my 20th high school reunion. My father was scheduled for surgery to remove his cancer infested lung the day after my reunion and I was in no mood to attend. But my best friend, my soul sister, had flown in from Montana (at my constant prodding) to attend. So, there I was — being thrown into the shower, being forced to dress-up, being tossed out the door and into one of the single most wonderful nights of my life (hint: there were margaritas). Even though I hadn’t spoken to many of these people in the 10 years since the last reunion.

So… back to Twitter. I stumbled upon Twitter when I was bored and hanging out in the Alive Hospice house during my mother’s final days. I dabbled here and there until I figured it out and began chatting with some funny interesting people. One of whom, (most likely unknown to her), encouraged me to start this blog. Twitter has broken me often (again, to explain this would be to give you far too much insight into my 12-year-old mind), but it has saved me more times than I can count. I started exercising and eating healthy and losing weight and writing and expressing and sharing and connecting and laughing and joking and thinking and breathing… I started breathing. Everyday, I take a breath and locate my friends and chat. Everyday… not every 10 years.

My hand hovers, as of late. It wants to disconnect my mind from the world at my fingertips. It wants to separate me from the thing that has, at times, left me emotionally naked. But I know what the friends I’ve met have given me. I know what this blog has given me. I know what breathing and thinking and connecting and caring have given me. So, my hand may hover on occasion over that “deactivate account” button, but it won’t follow through — I won’t let it. Already this week I’ve talked to three people who I have a strong emotional connection with, I’ve chatted with three New York Times best-selling authors about dogs and treadmills and vacations, I’ve chatted with friends about their health and their jobs and their love life. I’ve connected with real people, who like me, have real lives and real feelings and real emotions. Who have you connected with?

Picture from Kind Over Matter

And… a bonus song!

Read Full Post »

I read an article by Martha Beck recently about unlearning life lessons, thank you to Judy Clement Wall at Zebra Sounds for posting it. I stopped reading at #2 on her list of ten lessons to unlearn:

2. It’s important to stay happy. Solving a knotty problem can help us be happy, but we don’t have to be happy to feel good. If that sounds crazy, try this: Focus on something that makes you miserable. Then think, “I must stay happy!” Stressful, isn’t it? Now say, “It’s okay to be as sad as I need to be.” This kind of permission to feel as we feel—not continuous happiness—is the foundation of well-being.

I enjoy being happy — we all do don’t we? I think I’m a fairly happy person — I think if you talked to the people that surround my physical world they would agree that I am generally happy. I’ve had sad things happen in my life — but who hasn’t? And when the sad things happen, I’m sad — none of us are always happy. We have to let the other emotions have their chance to shine. I think if we deny our other naturally occurring emotions, then we are denying certain aspects of ourselves. The key, perhaps, is to understand how each plays a role — how each helps you become whole.

While I was reading the article on unlearning life lessons and contemplating my own need to sometimes mask my emotions, I decided to check out the latest blog post by Martha Beck. It made me laugh. Here, in the midst of unlearning life lessons, I laughed and found some happy. Martha Beck is a very influential woman. I see her as a source of inspiration and thought — and yet she was revealing her fears, caught up in her insecurities… just like the rest of us. She was revealing that she indeed, is not always happy. Strangely enough, reading this post made me happy. Read it, I think you’ll agree.

We are happy, we are sad, we are insecure, we are mad… we just are.

I have a friend who has an awesome, happy, secure life. We were talking recently about different things that were going on in each of our lives and how we could help each other process the sometimes maddening emotional journey that we were taking, each in our own life. I was surprised that we were having such a conversation — after all, she has an awesome, happy, secure life. She told me that, right then, at that very moment, she felt so sad that it physically felt as if a weighted object was placed directly over her heart — preventing it from expanding with the happy she so often knew. I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted so desperately to give her some of her happy back — even if just for a minute. But instead, I told her to be sad. It was ok. Be sad for as long as she needs to be — because I knew it wouldn’t last forever. So there we sat — sad, staring, reflecting. Just sad.

Emotions are natural. We don’t work at them. We don’t wait around for the next one to take hold and carry us to a place of laughter or solitude or reflection. They come to us without warning and they stay for as long as they need to.

I have a happy. You do too. We all do. Sometimes I forget I have it — sometimes I lose track of it and need a little guidance to help me uncover it. But I’ve never lost it — we never lose our happy…misplace, yes. But lost, never. Let your emotions have their way with you, let them guide you in your journey. Be happy or sad for as long as you need to be — this, I understand.

Image from Kind Over Matter

Read Full Post »

I Just Need A Hug

I’ve learned about hugs. Laugh, but it’s true. I’m the person who when I was pregnant, if you dared touch my belly as if it were your own, I would growl. I’m the person, who never liked for people to touch me and if you dared attempt to wrap your arms around me — I never reciprocated. I’m the person who shied away from any type of physical contact with friends.

But, I’ve learned about hugs.

You know I had to google about hugs to see what was so magical, here’s what I found:

Hugging is good medicine. It transfers energy, and gives the person hugged an emotional boost. You need four hugs a day for survival, eight for maintenance, and twelve for growth. A hug makes you feel good. The skin is the largest organ we have and it needs a great deal of care. A hug can cover a lot of skin and gives the message that you care. It is also a form of communication. It can say things you don’t have words for. The nicest thing about a hug is that you usually can’t give one without getting one.

Wow. That sounds pretty serious. Like this hugging thing could be medically related and therefore not just make me sappy (although, I’ve learned about sappy too). I had a friend tell me that a hug that lasts for at least 6 seconds can actually make you feel better. So, of course, I googled and here’s what I found out about that:

When you hug, oxytocin is released in the brain. Oxytocin does more than make us feel good. It lowers the levels of stress hormones in the body, reducing blood pressure, improving mood, increasing tolerance for pain and perhaps even speeding how fast wounds heal. It also seems to play an important role in our relationships. It’s been linked, for example, to how much we trust others.

Now that is significant — I think. Hugging can actually help you trust other people — trust your friends. That statement alone should probably make you go and hug a friend.

I love to hug my kids — that I can do. But maybe I don’t hug them enough as they get older. Maybe the hugs seem to fade with age — I’m sure that’s not the way it is supposed to be. So, I’ve made a conscious decision to give my kids ample 6 second hugs each day — when I wake them up, when I see them off to school, when they greet me each day I arrive home, when I tuck them in at night. With them, it’s easy.

I’ve always had a certain longing to be one of those girls who can hug and touch and hold and not feel completing incapacitated by it. They always make their friends feel so good. My youngest daughter’s kindergarten teacher is one of those girls — she gave me a 6 second hug just today. In turn, I passed it on to a friend I hadn’t seen in a month or so — maybe she passed it on too, that’s what we do as girls — I’m learning that too.

I’m learning that we are emotional creatures — (you’re gonna love this poem by Eve Ensler), some of us just learn it later than others.

So, if you see me, expect a hug. Evolution can be a wonderful thing.

Read Full Post »

I think there are many emotions we have as normal feeling humans that are quite beneficial. I mean, really, if they didn’t serve a purpose, why would we even experience them. Love, hate, anger, jealousy, pity, empathy, angst — and rage. Rage seems to be the bad guy in the feelings department. If you rage, you are out of control and that’s bad. If you don’t rage, you lack passion and that’s bad. Even the word itself evokes certain powerful emotions that may be too difficult for some to face head on.

I’ve been thinking about rage a lot lately. And, honestly, like many of you, I can’t really even say the word without thinking about Dylan Thomas and his words:

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Thomas made rage really cool didn’t he?

But, clearly, he is speaking about raging against death. Some people rage against death I suppose, maybe I have too. But, really rage can creep up during other times more often than at death. And I would bet that the majority of people don’t think rage (other than at death) is very cool.

I’ve been reading Sylvia Plath lately. I would not recommend reading her for long periods of time — she was angry, she was mad, her words reflect a woman who was beyond broken — she raged. The other side of rage. The side that makes us uncomfortable. The side we don’t want to see much less experience. I tried to find an excerpt from one of her pieces to share, but — I hesitate. You can read them for yourself.

So rage. Sometimes is cool. Sometimes it’s scary. But, I think that we all experience this at some point. Maybe we keep it hidden because having someone witness your rage might be the proverbial deal breaker in any relationship. It can be ugly. It can be very non-Dylan Thomasy.

The butterflies and unicorns stay near the surface, the things we want people to remember. The good. The funny. The sparkle.

The rage has to take it’s place below — hidden away. Only to be let out if all the conditions are correct, But, sometimes, I think it’s ok to let it out. I think it’s ok to let it breathe and have a life. I think it’s ok to rage.

Read Full Post »

Well, I’m hoping the title didn’t throw you off — but, I guess if you’re still reading, it didn’t. I’m obsessed with vacuuming. Laugh if you want, but I’ve carefully considered the reasons why I love to vacuum and to buy vacuums and to talk about vacuums and… oh, sorry — I’ll continue.

Working with children with autism, I’ve discovered the importance of our senses and how our sensory system helps regulate our emotions and our behaviors. About 75% of the cases I assist on are related to some type of aberrant behavior and that aberrant behavior is often tracked back to an inability to regulate sensory input — oh, I did it again didn’t I, sorry — I’ll continue.

I can remember when I was very young, I would so very easily fall asleep to the sound of the vacuum — its steady hum sent me immediately into some hypnotic state of Neverland. When my mother vacuumed at night, it was the best story I could have ever been read or the best lullaby I could ever have been sung. I could breathe deeply, relax, and let go.

When my oldest daughter was born, she was an excellent crier — the best, really, I wish there had been a contest. She cried at exactly the same time every night — 7:12 to 11:34. Although I knew this was coming and could try to plan my emotions around it — every night when it started, I always felt helpless. I was trying to soothe her one fateful night and trying to clean the small cramped apartment and stay focused on other things so as not to completely crack under the pressure of her cry. So, I coddled her in one arm and reached for the vacuum with the other.  As soon as I switched the vacuum to on — her crying stopped and I was able to take a deep cleansing breath.

That was my solution for her for the next 5 months. I went through three vacuums but I maintained my sanity. I’ve thought about this many times over the years. Whether or not her crying had something to do with my lack of mothering skills. If she was able to sense my tension at such an early age and her cries were reflective of that. And… if the vacuum helped me regulate or helped her regulate.

I vacuum quite often now. I usually begin my day by vacuuming my house — I know this might seem strange, but it can be very cleansing. I also typically vacuum the house as soon as I get home. For me, it’s not about all the carpet fibers going in the same direction (although that is an added bonus), and it’s not about the actual cleaning of the carpets (although, again, a bonus to my obsession), it’s about the sound. The dull, low, hum that resonates deep in me.

We are all trying to regulate our senses, to gain control of our emotions, to let go and breathe. Maybe mine seems a little strange. I would like to discuss it with you, as soon as I’m through vacuuming.

Read Full Post »