Friday on the Bridge
I'm not in the mood to write tonight. Just trying to go through the practice of it again. The routine of writing each night. It is easy for me to type quickly so I cannot even use the excuse of feeling to tired to sit and write by hand. I just don't feel like it. I feel the resistance of it, not wanting to stick with practice, just wanting to sit around with CK watching a show and being close.
She met me at the office today after work and we bicycled around downtown having dinner, picking up rain gear. On the way back we stopped and stood on the bridge, letting me work with some of my anxiety of being up on it, feeling exposed. Like writing when I don't want to, the practice of riding over the bridge will lead to good things in my life.
We got back on our bikes and road across the bridge and on to CK's flat. I started to change into my nightshirt and felt really ill, nauseated and shaky. When I realized I was cold we figured it was blood sugar and I had a banana and some tea.
I feel better now but when it first really hit, I plopped down on the sofa and felt a big wave of grief, misery, and helplessness. Something about nausea that makes me feel like a small child in a bad way. Just a feeling of being ill, helpless, vulnerable that somehow very young.
Writing a Voice
Last night on the way home from the dharma center AM and I were talking about the concept of the inner critic. I've noted often that I don't often get a tangible voice in my head telling me I should be ashamed, that I'm bad, that something is too ambitious for me, etc. Every once in a while one pops up, but now I am most often able to spot the absurdity of the statements it makes.
AM commented that perhaps I should stop trying to figure out why I don't get a tangible inner critic to work with. Stop comparing my experience to others and assume that I should be the same. Start working with the way my mind works, moving forward from what does happen. I think I hear people in my sangha talk so often about the work they do with their inner critic I feel a bit strange that I don't seem to have one to really work with in the same way.
Most of the time I get what feel like just rushes of emotion, wordless and omni-present. Occasionally my mind just checks out of the moment and is thinking about work, teaching a class, planning what to say at some even in the future. I don't even really notice it starting to wander off until I gain awareness of how far I've moved out of the present. I noted in the discussion last night there are times it as almost as if someone just happened to stroll by and pop a bag over my head leaving me blind, deaf, and speechless to the present. It makes it difficult to try and resist, work with it.
Now I try to first figure out what the emotion is, or at least what is on the top of the layers. I really try to stay present, check in and determine if the emotion appears to be excessive for the given moment. I have to pull down through more recent experiences and remind myself that something won't blow up. The first emotional instinct may quite often be out of place, an echoing call of the past intruding upon a future that is far safer. It is such effort to do this and I feel like I mess it up all the time.
The emotions, they're what I can call the inner critic; like feeling as if I mess up all the time. My inner critic doesn't yell at me; perhaps I can envision some sorcerous creature that summons forth the crashing emotions and unleashes them upon me. That's what I think was coming through when I titled a blog "Thrashed on by the inner critic".
Maybe writing is another door as well, when I write about the emotions the voice comes out more. "I mess it up all the time" is certainly a voice talking and not just the raw emotion of inadequacy, failure, and shame. Those are definitely the feelings that are coming through when I think about struggling with my anxiety. Expressing those feelings through writing suddenly gives them a voice. Not that I think I'll take up arguing with myself in my blog, but I do have the opportunity to be mindful of a voice coming up, saying exaggerated and hurtful things about myself.
command line metta
The impending rain was the last straw in my deciding not to bicycle to the office today. I'd woken up sometime before 4AM with a start (AM had crashed into the nightstand), then needed to go to the bathroom, then Phoebe waking me up to pet her. I dozed fitfully after that until the alarm sounded at 6:30. The thing that needed to give was my desire to bicycle in today.
I phoned CK to let her know, feeling a bit bad for doing so. The route to use had seemed a contentious topic, so calling to say I wasn't up for it regardless felt a bit silly. She was understanding, of course, agreeing that I am not equipped at all to deal with rain (either on my person or my stuff).
Work was filled with the usual work stuff, including an inability to access the documents I keep on Google. Some new measurements of the corporate IT and/or security folks. One more reason to give thought to looking to be somewhere smaller. Made some progress on some things, little on others. My head ached by the end of the day.
Quick snack at home, AM had made samosas and I had one with a little sambar. Then off to teach yoga. Tonight I rushed off to the dharma center afterward because they needed someone to chant and do bells. I volunteered because no one else had and somehow my mind things this is somehow a "make up" for bailing out on them last Thursday.
Tuesdays are seated meditation (zazen) followed by walking meditation (kinhin) then discussion, a bit more zazen, and ending with chanting service. I like the idea of this a lot, but since I finish teaching a little past 7PM each Tuesday it means to go I must wolf something down in the car on the way over to sitting at 7:30PM. Now having done it I can confirm that it really makes for a long day, even if I hadn't started out short on sleep.
We discussed the wrap up, well for me first discussion about the Bhramaviharas ("Divine Abodes") and I mentioned how difficult it is for me to apply these to myself. That I find it far easier to cultivate these things when I deal with others. Yes, things are still challenging when I interact with people closely, but it is far less effort to practice these states of being with others.
I especially mentioned how doing metta practice for myself is such a challenge, that is the time when I am most distracted. So distracted I don't even notice I'm no longer attending my meditation; I don't consciously distract myself so much as mentally shift to other activities. HB has suggested practicing in a mirror, but that really is difficult and even upsetting at times. GR offered the idea of doing it a different way, perhaps writing it out.
When we had our second sitting period I tried this. Not literally, no pen and paper. I envisioned the feel of my fingers on a keyboard, typing out the words. My mind saw the letters appearing on my monitor, in a terminal window. This variation helped, my mind stayed more focused on the metta practice and aware of the potential to wander off. After chanting service I made sure to share that the "writing" suggestion was very helpful.
And I'm finally in bed again. My right side especially hurts. From the side of the tail bone down the entire leg, lighting up the hip and knee particularly. I felt so drained from work today, not energized by it at all. I am trying to not lose track of how tired I am and how the down shift in the weather to mist, drizzle and rain leaves me feeling chilled and slow. These things and the rush of anxiety last week have left me feeling thin again. Some of the irritation at work is truly magnified by these things and not just work itself.
Don’t Listen to Instinct
In the early morning hours I had dreams of being lost in some airport in the desert. Separated from both AM and CK, phone not working correctly, not fluent in the language spoken around me, and entirely disoriented, lost. "Crisis dreams" are what AM calls them. I have all kinds of variations on them, often related to travel.
It had been such a rush of a day yesterday, my anxious feelings still present making it hard to communicate with either AM or CK well. Going hiking in the Gorge, having lunch out, going to a movie (found it pretty lame... glad I saw it at a second run brew pub), dropping off the visiting friend, getting CK's bike, going back to my house just to grab stuff and bicycle to CK's flat. I was missing being at home, missing my cats, and still utterly thrown off by trying to work with the anxiety CK was experiencing.
We'd hit one of those bumps last night; where we freeze up and fear rushes into the place where our connection resides. It becomes excruciatingly difficult for me, own fears that I've hurt her, that I've screwed up fundamentally, from rushing to the forefront. Certainly one of those areas where I have to fight the instincts that clamor. Easy to link that directly to dreams of being lost and disconnected from the people I love. And so I woke up with tears already welling up in my eyes.
Just barely time enough to get the tears calmed down, hiding just below the surface again. Time to reconnect then rush off to teach class. So grateful for 3 students only, one of them CK. Having to rush off to teach was frustrating because CK had just told me that she loved me and we were able to be close with less fear. Once I got into the rhythm of class I found it welcome in that it connected me back to the calming of my mind that comes from teaching.
I rode over to New Seasons from the community center to pick up some DLPA, the Arbor Lodge store specially stocks what seems to be the only vegan variety available in the U.S. Once I got home AM and I decided to run over to India-4-U to see how Kumar and Alka were doing as well as pick up a few things we've run out of. We had some very tasty lunch at Red & Black and picked up a "Bake in Black" t-shirt from Sweet Pea Baking Company.
The rest of the day AM and I have just hung out, talking, reading, and watching things on the Science channel. I feel just worn down, absolutely exhausted on so many levels. I'm so incredibly grateful I have a massage scheduled with Beth tomorrow, I really feel the need to have her help with the muscle spasms in my back and the energy of emotion that is so hot right now.
Just sitting with it I'm starting to get a feel for the subtle, nearly voiceless ways in which my PTSD manifests. Sometimes it is so obvious, so silly that it is easy to laugh at it and know it is wrong (like this morning having the thought that it is so hard for CK to have space to cry because I'm so busying crying all the time).
Children who are abused cannot comprehend that something is wrong about the adults around them and therefore assume they are at fault, to blame for the situation and/or deserving of the punishment. No matter how many times my rational mind may understand that something is in no way caused by me, a part of me reacts in shame for having done wrong. It becomes another practice to resist the initial instinct that signals I've done wrong and/or am in danger. I know that these past couple of weeks I've been trying to practice this but it doesn't come easily yet and I feel as though I tire easily.
Absolute Beginner
I feel really resistant to the practice of writing tonight. I really don't want to write and am relying upon the "practice" part of this to get me going. I'm tired physically and mentally. My emotions still feel right up at the surface, unsettled. Maybe not as bad as last July, so some progress, but like my going up hills on bicycle, it feels slow.
AM and I, as well as CK and I, have been talking about going to the NVC (non-violent communication) class being offered by our Zen community next month. Learning how to more compassionately express our needs and emotions to one another. I am looking forward to this chance to learn really useful skills together although it is tough since right now my emotional stuff feels so present and big.
I'm listening to Absolute Beginners right now and there's a sweet irony to it. My feeling so inadequate these past few days, all the emotions and challenges that my family relationships bring up, fits with the idea of a beginner in one view. I don't feel very comfortable being a beginner for the most part. In most everything I do there's some level of anticipatory-anxiety, dread.
There's the other side of being a beginner, the state in Zen described as Shoshin. Shunryu Suzuki was known for saying that in the beginners mind there are many possibilities, in the experts mind there are few. My mind in the state of beginner sees endless possibilities for humiliation, retribution, anger, shame, and utter failure. My inner critic summons up wild waves of fear and blinds me to any other outcomes. The work in retraining my mind is to see the possibilities for joy, for success & accomplishment, pride, happiness, and peace. Not to try and eradicate the thoughts based in fear, just to achieve parity in vision so I perceive the thoughts based in peace equally.
Thrashed on by the Inner Critic
Well, this has been a long day. CK and I even slept in some so we'd have more rest and more quiet time together before heading off to OSCON for the day. We felt we were doing a bit better, reconnecting together again. It had been tough yesterday as the sheer pressure of being at the conference together had taken a toll on the somewhat emotional place we'd been in on Sunday. There is just so much mental input, constant noise of people talking, and countless screens to watch.
After having trying to be present through days of feeling a real disconnect from CK, trying to connect, then dumping ourselves into the mass of people that is OSCON, we were really feeling the intensity of the lack connection was producing irritation, anxiety, and just draining us both utterly. I took a bath, we ate a little, and felt somewhat better.
Laying down to cuddle and rest I felt a rush of anxiety come back. The unreasonable flash of panic earlier that the stress of a conference full of geeks would be the end of us was echoed back to me. I finally thought that the anxiety that I'd been experiencing when we'd been together earlier was being recalled too. All of it just flashing through me again. We ended up drifting into sleep.
Sleeping in, waking up without rushing out the door helped as well. And then we were off to the conference. At some point during a series of talks about Perl I just felt the anxiety hit me. I felt so inadequate. I felt utterly outclassed and a poser of a programmer. It felt like I shouldn't be there at all. I didn't like diving back into the boys' club that is technology.
AM and I had dinner together and talked about the just drained, anxious way I was feeling. He was able to note how he just feels lonely without me around. Our friendship is so close that he really feels my absence. In talking to him, in being reassured again that he wasn't angry, wasn't going to treat me to snide comments and coldness like my ex-husband had done so often, I was able to see my fears are too big. He is OK even if his loneliness brings up irritation. He isn't angry at me. He truly wants to help foster the happiness that CK & I have in our relationship. When I'm feeling so anxious it is hard to relax into trusting this, hard practice.
Talking to AM this evening I had a realization about some of the anxiety about feeling inadequate professionally, intellectually at OSCON. The last time I did a conference like this I still weighed at least 80 pounds more than I do now. I still had the body armor of my weight, my long hair, anger, and a carefully constructed persona that included an intense bravado, a "fuck you" attitude.
Because of my practice I don't have any of that anymore. I'm present with all of the feelings of inadequacy that I was distracting myself from. I wasn't expecting to have a run in with my inner critic this week and it hurts. I practically begged to get to come to OSCON, I've been so excited about it.
I ended up not going to the Dharma center tonight. Showing up, leaving the merit list for the week, and pleading illness. Hogen asked if I could sit with all of this and I told him I couldn't there, not in zazen. I was too nauseated and my hips and back hurt so much. Once I'd had some tea and some real food that nausea passed, suggesting blood sugar contributing to some of the feelings of illness.
I'm trying to refocus on the encouraging people I've met. Suggestions of else I could be doing besides programming have occurred to me. There has been things that felt like what I wanted, more community to learn from. Trying to work on that inner critic.
CK had it pegged perfectly, how the inner critic was speaking through me today. In talking about what I want to do, I focused on everything I think I don't do well. I had noted that I'm having a difficult time articulating what I think I'm really good at.
My not being able to articulate my true ability, that is the inner critic with hands over my eyes and blinding me. The ability to clearly detail everything that is not a strength, that's very obviously that critic.
Bird on the Sidewalk
This morning the alarm went off at 6 and I turned it off through a wave of fatigue. Not necessarily any greater level of pain, just feeling so very tired. I asked AM if he would drive me in so I could rest a little longer. Phoebe jumped over me and we curled up to watch the bright light of morning, then dozed a little longer.
I decided to get a coffee, my weekly indulgence in coffee, so AM let me off by Half and Half so I could grab a latte before my weekly team meeting started. It wasn't too busy and I was quickly presented with a lovely soy latte, complete with foam leaf on top. I should get a picture sometime when they do this, not all of the folks there do it. Really dense foam.
Doing OK. Little tired, sore in the left hip from the ride home last night with all my stuff. Not looking forward to my upcoming meeting. Looking forward to meeting CK at Chaat House for lunch a little after 1. I'm headed down the couple blocks to my office and I'm stopped short by something.
In the center of the sidewalk is a small, brown bird. At first, walking up to it, I thought it might be dead already. The victim of a neighborhood cat. But as I came up to it I could see it breathing, see just how small it was against the concrete. It didn't make a noise, didn't move or show any alarm.
At first, perhaps having had the initial thought that I was about to see a mangled bird on the sidewalk, I assumed the bird was in distress. I stood there, nearly frozen, watching. It just was there, breathing. I began to wonder if it was dying, if the breathing that appeared rapid to me was a sign of great pain. Then I noted how small the bird was, how it just sat there blinking tiny eyes and moving air through it's body, almost as if it were resting to regain strength after exertion or shock. Maybe a younger bird still not with the full experience of flight.
I just stood there, looking down at this tiny being. I thought of Norman Fisher's words in the article Coming Home to the Body in the current issue of Shambala Sun, that this tiny creature and I were sharing breath. We are all of us sharing our breath, all of the breath that has ever been breathed we share.
So I stood there, breathing, realizing that in observing the bird, feeling my concern, curiosity, desire to react -- all of these things my brain was doing and my body wasn't breathing right. In standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, my brain ran down many pathways and the breath tightened in my chest so it was as rapid as I supposed the little bird's to be. I felt the side ribs in my body, moved my breath toward them, back toward even breath.
For a moment I recited metta for this little bird, either at the end of it's life or just regaining strength. I didn't know what else to do and wondered if I should always be in reaction mode like that anyway. In the corner of my vision I saw two men approaching. I stood up, facing them, noted to, "Mind the bird."
As I stepped away, I looked back twice more, wishing merit for this very small being I'd just shared the practice of breath with. Then I headed off to meetings starting momentarily and co-workers. Frustration, laughter, tasks, lists, connection, and the general busyness of a workday. It all flew by, up until now when I'm writing and contemplating sleep.
It of course wasn't there that I could tell when I left the building later. I've tried not to wonder about all the possible reasons for seeing the bird. I have just been aware that since that moment this morning in the back of my mind I've kept a small, brown bird. Holding space for it to be free from anxiety & fear, free from suffering, and that in it's own way know happiness & peace.
Fireworks!
I'm finally getting to my post for the 4th on the fifth since just now the house is settling down. Turned out to be a very full, busy, good day.
I woke up at 8AM feeling groggy from going to bed at nearly midnight and having taken some melatonin to be sure I rested better than I had Wednesday night. My back hurt, I felt slow and a little nauseated. AM and I got up and went to New Seasons to get some shopping for the day in ahead of crowds. We wanted to get things done early too so we would have food to take out to the monastery for the Fourth of July, pan-Buddhist picnic.
AM checked in with me if I still wanted to go all the way out to the picnic; I had to admit I didn't look like I felt like I was up to it. But I pressed on ahead with the cookies I wanted to make and AM worked on making some potato salad. We realized that it would work best if he stayed home -- AM wanted to clean the house and get some things done that wouldn't otherwise get done if all three of us went to the picnic. CK and I ended up heading out to Clatskanie together, enjoying the day of food and sharing.
CK's mother phoned while we were out at Great Vow, leaving a worried sounding voice message. CK had sent her a letter on Wednesday telling her mom about our relationship. On the drive home CK and I talked a lot about choosing a relationship path that is so widely different from the cultural norm. Not only does it require us to be very creative and painstakingly honest, but it becomes a challenge to everyone we meet and share this information with.
I've been moving forward to tell members of my Zen community about my relationships and the state of things. On Thursday my therapist noted that the responses I've gotten must be very validating. I hadn't recognized it as such at that point, which isn't out of the normal for me. Now, after a couple of days I'm starting to feel that. The idea that I'm really going to be able to be truly authentic and the world won't blow up in my face. It is so hard to relax into idea, the instinct to brace for impact, to make myself small, is so ingrained.
CK ended up talking with her mom for a while, sitting out in the car so she'd have quiet. KW and D came over. We got together veggie brats, tofu & tempeh burgers, AM had made more potato salad, I sliced up some watermelon. All the while I worried that the conversation was going poorly, worried that CK was having to suddenly defend something that is a source of happiness and nurturing in her life. After nearly an hour I couldn't stand it and tried to peer inconspicuously out the dining room window into the car. I felt huge relief when I finally was able to confirm a genuine smile on CK's face.
Fireworks of a personal nature. Lighting something, throwing it up into the air and hoping the world greats it with appreciation. There's a chance that you'll throw something up and it will go all wrong; either a dud or sparks flying dangerously close to important things. There's also a chance that everyone will have a glimpse of the true possibility in the world.
Chanting, O My
Tonight I sat in the front of the zendo and chanted service. I didn't look at anything but the chant leader materials, I just tried to think about projecting my voice, and I didn't pass out. I was very nervous when I found out via the Dharma talk that the chant we're doing had changed last week while I was in Canada and was NOT the one I'd been practicing!
Afterwards several people told me how well I did. CK commented on this as well and asked if I was able to take note of the compliments. I noted that right now I'm still feeling the anxiety of being in front of everyone, not only that but using my voice in front of everyone, and the general relief of being done! She noted that afterwards I seemed a bit like a balloon that had been let go of, all the air rushing out of it, and deflated. I agreed I felt pretty drained.
There's the part of me that is just so uncomfortable with using my voice in a public way. All through the first sitting period I'd periodically hear my Mother, Aunt Jean, or Grandmother's voice telling me that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket -- a refrain I heard through out my childhood an adolescence. Even after voice lessons, singing in the college choir, the masterworks community choir, and having to do a couple of solo recitals it never felt easy. Those two solo recitals caused me nervousness to the point of illness, just the same as when I read my personal writing or poetry aloud. Thankfully I was able to mostly get rid of those voices during the second zazen period.
Then there's the general disconnect I feel in a group. I have a group of friends I feel comfortable with after over 10 years. Even in that group there are things people didn't know about me, especially about my struggle with PTSD, until just the past year! Trying to look at that with CK on the drive home from the Dharma center I noted that the one group I did have constant, my family, I was invalidated, unwelcome, and often maligned. I have never felt the feeling of belonging in my family that most people describe. We moved so often when I grew up that I also felt like I never got the hang of being with a group -- every time I'd get close to feeling comfortable I'd move away.
To get out in front of a community that feels like I belong, even if that belief seems a little shaky and uncertain, felt enormous. When I started to chant I could hear nothing for a moment but my ears ringing. Then I heard my voice, settled into a sutra I do know even if I didn't practice it. I may be deflated, but I didn't explode into a poof of anxiety.
And now, having resolved the 99% full /home on my production web server (Monday I must look into why my backup prune script stopped working) I'm going to go to bed and try NOT to dream about being in front of people or my family!
Combating Excuse Number Two
Clearly excuse Number One for not writing is, "I don't have anything interesting to write about."