Angry
Despite teaching a class for several grateful students this morning, with a lovey cat, and having a good conversation with a friend, I’m ending the evening feeling utterly irritable.
Everything rubs raw.
Irritation arises.
There is anger here.
“Why?!” I started to think, “There’s no good reason to feel this cloud of rage!”
Then I looked at the death toll for today. There’s every reason.
I realized during my last therapy session that not only do I find anger frightening when others express it, I see my own anger as something so dangerous that I can’t let it out around anyone else. My anger can potentially cause harm to come to me if it is seen.
I’ll be unpacking this for a while. I knew how I felt anger anger in general. I tend to be conflict adverse because visible anger from my Mother signaled danger. I didn’t realize I viewed my own anger as so potentially dangerous.
The 9th Grave Precept is not not give rise to anger. Working with that helped me understand that getting angry is a normal emotion, it’s how and what we do with it that’s key. Moreover, anger can energize us to act, hold strong, or change.
Mostly though it’s a sign to rest.
The Exploding Inner World
Tumblr reminded me of this quote I posted a while back, it felt fitting to revisit today
"To traverse the exploding inner world, a person needs to be able to not only name what’s going on but to cultivate themselves to be present with whatever shows up, learning over time how to welcome the discord."
- Deirdre Fay
Although our friend IK left this world 7 years ago yesterday, it is always the 10th it hits me hardest. Almost as if it took an entire day to integrate the loss and shock. Whenever I hit this date blip I feel shame, the echo of the shame I felt when IK committed suicide over how wrapped up we were caring for my Mother.
Teaching gave me a little boost, but much of the day I was in a fog. Astounded by the death toll, the ghoulish politicians, and stewing over trauma memories. No surprise I dozed outside rather than yard work.
A haiku for a groggy Friday afternoon.
Dozing in sunlight.
Apple blossoms nod along.
This moment is whole.
Together, Just
I wake up feeling like I’m made of gravel hastily bundled up in flimsy net; weighted down by dread and barely together.
I know I’m doing better than barely together, but when I first wake up, especially if I’ve bolted awake from another nightmare, I feel the heaviness of dread. I feel clumsy with anxiety, physically, mentally, energetically, spiritually.
Today I received my last paycheck from the City until we open. Until March 14th I was teaching 14 or more hours each week. I was officially laid off as of April 2. Although I could have done it sooner, today I filed my unemployment claim.
I also thought a lot about my Mother today. There’s been some anger present today! This is for a post written at a laptop!
It also occurred to me that I did most of my early yoga teacher training before I even had a PTSD diagnosis, much less the Complex Trauma add on. I thought of this seeing people share caution for a breath practice for folks with these diagnoses.
Once again I was hauling myself through trauma without any help. I’m really grateful I’m learning to ask for help more.
I’m also really grateful for these apple blossoms in our backyard.
These apple blossoms
Have been waiting all winter
To see the sunlight.
Don’t Get Stuck
I woke up with a start at 6am. Disoriented and my heart pounding, I’m not even sure what the dream was. Bertie snorted loudly in his sleep and the Hawaiian wall hanging by my side of the bed helped to settle me.
I’m not terribly surprised that I felt uneasy all day, unmotivated and tired. There’s so much going well for us right now, and yet the world is dangerous and it isn’t my anxiety just being triggered by something innocuous.
I was surprised that I got a lot of tasks done around the house. I’m trying to focus on things I can accomplish and asking CK for support, even if it is just company to get me going
I have a new mantra, “Don’t get stuck!” It helps when I’m feeling frozen. I say it and find something to do.
Another April haiku today.
Faces turn upward.
Plants, dogs, people everywhere.
We all crave sunshine.
Finding the Earth
Unexpected flowers.
Finding the earth in the cracks.
Blooming any way.
I’m always falling in love with flowers that seed themselves in the cracks. Rose I found these lobelia while getting the greenhouse ready.
Self-care Isn’t Free Time
Scattered in clover.
Yellow faces gazing upward.
White petals unfurl.
Haiku turns us inward, teaches us to see tiny details deeply. Teaches us to pay attention. I return to it to get the pathways of poetry writing reconnected.
I started new medication to help with my anxiety; the stuff that arises out of my own special Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. I think it’s helping, although it is honestly hard to tell as I feel anxious and down.
CK and I water talking about people who keep saying online how they have so this free time now. We consider that some folks have lost jobs, which accounts for it. Some folks just were always out?
In theory I should have more since I’m not driving around, running errands, etc. I don’t have more time. It might be that the time is going to keeping myself grounded, which doesn’t leave me free time.
It doesn’t feel like abundance this time. I need to use it to stay functional. If it were truly free time, perhaps then I might be using it to tackle more projects.
Gifts Gratefully Received
Standing beneath trees
Abundant with bright blossoms;
Hopeful, tender Life.
I went out today and saw a dear student, physically distant as I admired her garden. She made CK and I each two cotton masks, beautiful creations that will allow us to more safely do necessary errands.
I’ve felt increasingly anxious about my rare trips out. A student asked if we wanted some and I took her up on the offer, gratefully, and shared with her hoe it was helping my anxiety! Ironically, as I was on this errand the CDC issued a statement recommending masks!
I feel loved. I am taking it in, trying to really pay attention. This gift, the sweetener of including CK, the money I’ve been making, the generosity. It is this reminder that I am valued, worthy. I’m not a toxic person who destroys people.
Rain and Lethargy
All day the rain fell.
Slow and gentle, then pounding.
The flowers don’t mind.
It took all evening to write a little haiku, much less a post. I woke up feeling heavy and clumsy this morning. By the afternoon I just felt down and headachy, same as bedtime nears. Not physically ill, just stick of heart about there world.
Poetry and Gratitude
Hey, it's April, which happens to be National Poetry Month, and I'm trying to think of creative projects. Reviving the old 30 Poems in 30 Days challenge!
April Haiku
Raindrops fill flowers.
Delicate cups overflow.
April showers fall.
I'm grateful for these fancy primroses CK grew from seed. I'm grateful for her exuberant return to gardening. I'm grateful her job is secure and she likes it.
I often have moments where I'm grateful that my Mother is dead. This ghoul of a President at least wasn’t elected by her, because she would have voted for his “straight talking” ways. She would have been the Boomer playing down the seriousness of COVID and telling me I’m overreacting, being a drama queen.
Her death freed me to heal, to finally see the full scope of the abuse, to really connect to the terrified child I was. Connecting to that child self is helping me to see how remarkable I was.
How remarkable I am.
Grateful Rain
I keep putting off getting back to writing thinking I need some massive "catch up" post, butI don't really. It is just a reason and not a terribly good one. Poetry is bringing me back, something I connected with as a writer at a young age, poetry and the practice of writing.
It rained in Portland after weeks without any along with long days of hot weather. I heard it last night as I was drifting off to sleep and was overjoyed to bursting to see it this morning when I took the dogs out. Despite feeling heavy with sorry, anger, and horror at the deaths in Charlottesville yesterday due to another white, male American terrorist, I felt such a welling up of gratitude at seeing the rain breathing in the smell of ground that comes with fresh rain.
Soft raindrops falling.
Welcome lull from Summer's heat.
The garden drinks deep.