6 Ways to Release Old Trauma

Posted on by
2

We can’t change the past but we can loosen its hold on us. The brain heals. New circuitry gets laid down. New cells grow. Pain eases. We thrive.

Healing is a lifelong process. Start now.

  1. Physical exercise. The ideal minimum is 20 minutes a day; if that’s too much, do what you can.
  2. Mindfulness. Be in the now. Be in the present moment. Do this by gently remembering your breath. Feel it go in. Out. Use your senses. Hear the cars going by. Look around the room and pick out all the red or blue. Feel the air on your skin or your feet on the floor. Smell the atmosphere around you.
  3. Meditate. A more focused form of mindfulness, this means sitting quietly; you can repeat a one-word mantra (love; peace; om) or just gently, repeatedly follow your breath. Start with three minutes a day, but start, even if you just sit on the edge of the bed when you wake up in the morning.
  4. Get help. If you haven’t already, ask a trusted friend or health care professional for a referral to a psychotherapist who specializes in trauma recovery.
  5. Ingest wisely. Honor your body’s nutritional needs. Eat moderately, and only healthy food. If there’s something you can’t stop eating once you start, don’t start. Trust me, you’ll be happier.  Ditto drugs and alcohol. Don’t use what hurts you. It’s not worth it. You deserve better.
  6. Dare to be joyful. Just feel into delight a little at a time if that’s all that’s possible for now. For abuse survivors, happiness can feel dangerous. Dare to feel the fear and be happy anyway. It will get easier. Promise.

 

Try A Little Wildness

Posted on by
Reply

Big, beautiful flowers growing wild. They’re only weeds if we decide we don’t want them around.

Are you willing to be wild? That was the challenge motivational speaker Vicki Clark issued to a room full of Junior Leaguers at a talk several months ago in Rumson, NJ.

The workshop was entitled: The 11 Commandments of Wildly Successful Women.

The event was not my first reminder that maybe at this time in my life I really, really need to go wild. As a friend’s bumper sticker reads, “Wild women don’t get the blues.”

If you’re open to passion, it doesn’t take much to bring it on. I had a moment in my very own  kitchen the night before the workshop. An earlier library visit had yielded Otis Redding CD with “Try A Little Tenderness” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azpUTXntVagon it. OMG! That song—rocking out in the kitchen as the music built and built, it got me positively vibrating with visceral certainty that life—and Otis!—are goo—oood!

Then I just had to put on my ratty, tatty faded old video of the movie Pretty in Pink, where “Try a Little Tenderness” has a featured role. I soaked up Molly Ringwald’s classic lesson in rising above stereotypes and embracing toe-curling passion. Wild!

I started thinking about wildness again when introduced recently to Traci Bild’s Get Your Girl Back movement http://gygb.com/. Don’t you love it? Getting my girl back is about remembering who I am under all the conformity, responsibility and plain-old life-fatigue. Who I was, I mean, when I rode my bike fearlessly down a flight of stairs. When I swam out to the middle of the pond. When I told off that snotty English teacher. When, country bumpkin that I was, I took on big bad New York City after college.

I’m not a teen or a twenty-something any more, and haven’t been for some time. But passion? I sure know something about that, and now that I’m older and wiser, I know that passion are as much about life itself as it is about youthful romance.

Passion is about being all in. About searching for what you value, then living from that place, knowing, as it says in the Bible, that “a prophet is without honor in her own country.”

The moments don’t have to be big ones. A big smile, a dollar and a little dance move to the sounds of a subway drum duo, that’ll do it, thank you. Yes, lots of people looked askance-ish (New Yorkers don’t stare; staring is too intimate; they just look, with a flat expression.)

But the drummers, and one spectator smiled. We had a moment. Then I moved on, refreshed and renewed by a nice dose of wildness.

What are you going to do today to remember who you are under all the grown-upness?

 

 

Does God Care About My Shower Curtain?

Posted on by
2


God is in the details, even the really small ones.

I used to be an atheist. I was very religious about it, quite adamant about there being no God. I made a god out of the no-God, in fact.

But then I had to believe in something, to get my body and my life back from rampaging overeating and obesity.

I went to a peer support group and was told that to get help I had to believe in something other than my own ego or my own will. If I would invoke this power, the others promised, I would have recovery.

Fast forward a couple of decades or so. My dreams have come true. One hundred pounds gone forever. Good-as-possible health is mine. And along the way I discovered within me a capacity to connect with an energy, a force, a being that is so powerful, so loving and kind, well, it’s more than I dare see or think about our feel some of the time.

It’s the human condition, or at least my human condition, to resist the power of joy.

Anyway. When I first decided to try out this newfound higher power years ago, I figured I’d test it with my outfits in the morning. Okay, HP, I’d think-pray, guide me. How bad could it be, right? Worse case scenario, I wouldn’t have a best-dressed day.

From there I learned to turn more and more over until, on a good day, I truly do surrender my entire life—efforts, outcomes, others—to the universe and just keep trudging forward, doing the next right thing. On a good day, I trust that while I may be confused, someone/something bigger, better grander than tiny moi isn’t.

But I still struggle to believe that Higher Power could care that much about me and my little life.

Yesterday I was shopping for a new shower curtain. You should know, btw, that I hate to shop. I mean, detest it. There were a lot of designs. I stood there a good five minutes. I kept thinking about my bathroom’s plain white walls. I tried to think what the other folks who live me appreciate or at least not hate. Décor-wise I really felt any color would do, what with the white walls. I mean, I was really dithering, trying, you know, to get it perfect. Finally, I checked with my gut, grabbed the bright and shiny one I’d first been attracted to and went home.

Last night I put it up. Bam! It matched perfectly the salmon pink fixtures and gray tiles I’d forgotten all about in my focus on the forgiving white. It’s lovely! It matches! Honest to God, I felt the presence of a power greater than myself. (Don’t laugh. I’ll explain.)

Now I don’t believe God gave me that shower curtain. I don’t have a Santa Claus God who finds me parking spaces and puts checks in the mail just when I need them. I don’t think life or God is that simple. (Besides, if God gives parking spaces, then who gave me the whiplash? See why this doesn’t work for me?)

However, I’m now wondering: Does the real God have better things to do than help me choose a shower curtain? Apparently not. This God, the God of my understanding, is so powerful, so enormous, so beyond my human understanding, that yes, it can participate in this huge executive decision regarding my downstairs bathroom.

So how much does this all matter? In terms of showers, and the big picture, not much. In terms of knowing I’m not alone, that there’s a source in me to resolve all issues great and small, my experience is a reminder that his eye is on the sparrow. And, it seems, on even silly little joys like my shiny new shower curtain.

 

 

 

 

Don’t Be So Nice!

Posted on by
1

So I’m at the red light and the light turns green. There’s one car in front of me and it doesn’t move. I’ve been working on being more patient, so I decide to give him a couple seconds before I honk. Boom! Someone hits me from behind.

I’m okay. Sore neck, sore back, two hours in the ER and a billion x-rays say nothing’s broken. Right. Thank goodness. Really, THANK GOODNESS!!!

But from now on, the second the light turns green, I’m giving my horn a helpful tap. That’s just sensible self-protection. Good Orderly Direction. Keeping the system running smoothly for all.

Too nice is not healthy for anybody.

And by the way, I didn’t let anyone yell at me about the accident, either. When someone did start yelling at me that there was no damage to my car, why did I want to involve the insurance companies? well, I just went over the the police officer and asked him to handle the situation and keep that angry person away from me.  He did.

Nice does not include, need or involve letting someone hurt me in any way at all, ever. (For the record, I knew I was going to need medical attention. I felt my head whip back and forth. That’s why I needed a police report. And there was damage to the car as well. I don’t have to explain, but I wanted to.)

Compassion, yes. Patience, yes. But awareness, alertness and common sense, too. I don’t have to be a doormat. I don’t have to give myself away to my own detriment. I don’t have to be hero, a saint or a martyr.

The Buddhists have a thing called Idiot Compassion, where you kindly hang in there when there’s no good outcome foreseeable and you’re being hurt. No more Idiot Compassion.

And for the record, I did not yell at anybody. I did not lose my cool. I did take care of myself. And here I am, alive and well and learning. Always learning!

 

 

Orchids in the Snow!!!!

Posted on by
Reply

Enough with being stuck indoors. But there’s only so much snow I can shovel before I am too pooped to pot, as my…I don’t know, somebody used to say. So I dragged my cabin-fevered little butt up to Dearborn Farms, a nearby sinfully stocked market  and nursery for the annual Deep Cut Park Orchid Show. OMG! Yes, flower prayers!

“Our flower, which comes from heaven…”

“This is the orchid the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be grateful for it!”

“God grant me the serenity of this orchid…”

“God bless us, everyone…”

“Amen. Amen. Amen.”

 

 

Who Needs Prayer Time?

Posted on by
1

There’s somebody there. But it helps if you slow down and listen. Doesn’t matter where or when, though a beach is a pretty good place to start.

My friend’s words struck me right in the heart, in a good way, so I just knew they were wise.

I was struggling mightily, for months and months, to make sure I had a specific, dedicated time daily to spend in prayer, meditation and reflection. I kept getting hijacked. Self-employed, I have a lot of flexibility. Too much, it sometimes feels. Working from home, I have  tons of fun distractions. Who can refuse a young adult son who wants to talk, right then?

And there are tons more of blah interruptions that just seem to insert themselves.

I mean, have you ever started out to balance the checkbook, only to come to awareness 20 minutes in the basement doing laundry? I mean, hijacked is my middle name. And I haven’t even talked about my relationship with e-mail. Oh, the ways I can just float away, time drunk and not doing what I need and want to do.

I was telling this to my friend Amy, who is very spiritual, and religious in a really nice way (meaning, she isn’t pushy and doesn’t judge). When we were first getting to know each other, she often would say to me at the end of a conversation, “Now tell me what I can pray for you today?” Sometimes she’ll even call and leave that offer on my voice mail. That’s how sweet and faithful she is.

So I was sweating out my sluggardly ways re spiritual time each day when Amy gently posited that many of the activities I do during the day, when I write and talk about addiction, health and healing, might be considered times of communication with my higher self. “Those things are worship, too,” she said.

Oh, right. My higher self doesn’t just come to me during special times set aside. I can also connect during and with any of my daily activities. God doesn’t appear just when I say so in a certain way. Connection is a state of mind and intention, too, not just a slot on the day’s calendar. I could, it seems, make my life a sort of living prayer, even.

Don’t get me wrong. I still need that special time. But for now anyway, it’s more helpful to take the day as it comes than to beat myself up that I didn’t set aside a perfect bubble for what Amy would call devotional time.

Because, actually what I’m craving is not so much time alone with my inner guides (though that is important) as the experience of connecting to the creator that lives within me as me. And I can do that anywhere, any time, if I just slow down and remember who I am, and who sent me.

Thanks, Amy!

10 Simple Truths About Selfishness

Posted on by
7

Self-care? What’s that? That was my thought when I first heard about the crazy, radical concept of self-nurture. That was two dozen years ago. I was pregnant with my 24-year-old and I was overwhelmed and feeling out of control.

Since then I’ve learned and relearned the value of self-care. I’ve learned through trial and error that job one in life no exceptions is minding my nutrition, exercising, being with friends, wearing only clothes that make me feel good, keeping my hair cut the way I like it, putting on lotion after my bath, taking at least a half hour each and every day all by myself just for myself, letting myself have naps and fun. And so on. (The list is ever-evolving.) Not to mention saying “No” to things that don’t feel right, no matter how worthy the request sounds, or how much I feel like I “should” comply.

Understanding that I need to respect my own needs, that’s hard. I forget, collapse, burnout or act out, then remember, again (often because some one who loves me reminds me). It’s so hard to remember because like lots of folks, especially women, I am hard-wired to think that taking care of myself is self-indulgent. Selfish. Ugly. The Puritan culture of my upbringing taught this; my family of origin supported it. Hard work and sacrifice, that’s what was called for. How you got your strength to keep on keeping on, well, that was your problem.

I’m not blaming, I’m just saying. They didn’t know a different way.

But I do. I’ve learned some truths about what enlightened selfishness is. I’m not talking about the attitude that says no matter what happens, good or bad, it’s all about me. No, I’m talking about honoring and supporting with actions our needs for love, connection, good health, serenity, sanity.

Here are few things I remember when the how-can-you-be-so-selfish bug bites. I keep these concepts in mind so that when that fool bug tries to make me feel guilty, I’m ready!

Okay, here goes:

• It’s good to give, but not what you don’t have.

• It doesn’t help the millions who have so much less than you do to keep your soul dry and unwatered.

• You can fully receive the abundance in your life in the name of those who don’t have what you have (even say a prayer for them), then use your well-nurtured skills and resources to help those in need.

• You must take care of yourself to take care of others. No one can get water from an empty well. Self-care is not a luxury. It’s not optional. It’s required.

• You don’t have to be hero, a saint or a martyr. Everyone has his or her role to play.

• People like people who are humble yet confident more than they like doormats. Self-care supports humility and confidence.

• Your higher power lives in the place where your self-care feeds and fuels your joy and your contribution to the world. Be in touch with where you feel loved. Go there in your mind as often as you can during each and every day.

• People will try to manipulate you to give you what you don’t want to give. “No” is a complete sentence. What’s good for you is good for the other guy, even if he doesn’t know it.

• If it truly feels bad, it is. Listen to what your body is telling you. The body knows.

• You are enough, you have enough, you do enough. Really.

What’s Wrong with Consistency?

Posted on by
3

Tis the season to be who you are, as you are.

Did you know that it is okay to be inconsistent! I didn’t. Wow! It’s okay to not be and feel the same all the time! I don’t have to be a rock. I can be water! Who knew?

Just this morning a friend said, “I have given myself permission to be cyclical.”

Bingo! Here was an answer to a prayer and a struggle I’ve been having for ages. I’ve been confounded and more than a little annoyed by how changeable I can be from one day or even one moment to the next. I amaze myself sometimes by thinking something’s a good idea, then, the next day, waking up and thinking it’s a bad idea. And then thinking, “What was I thinking? How can you be such a flibbertigibbet?”

I’ve been baffled by how I can be so productive one day, a big mush the next. What’s up with that?

Well, if I go by this new idea that I’m allowed to be cyclical, all I need to know is that, um, I was thinking one thing one day and another thing the next. Or, some days I’m more productive than others. Case closed. (Or, if there needs to be resolution, prayer, meditation, journaling and consultation with others can bring me to where I need to be. But during the process, it’s okay to cycle through different feelings and points of view.)

For the longest time, I thought the way to be my best in the world was to be the same every day. I have learned to adore discipline in some areas, but I could never understand why I was all over the place in other areas.

There are some things in my life that cannot vary, like the way I eat and exercise, or whether I am committed to being the peace I want to see in the world, or whether I’m loyal to friends and family. But for a lot of stuff, it’s just not possible to be the same every day, and I was making myself nuts trying.

New POV: It’s not a question of inconsistency. It’s a question of cycles.

It’s not, as I feared, that I don’t know who I am or that I’m indecisive or too moody. It’s that sometimes I feel one way, sometimes another. Sometimes there’s a full moon, sometimes there’s a quarter moon. Sometimes it’s day, sometimes it’s night. Sometimes I’m in the mood to be with people, sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I have energy, sometimes I’m tired. It’s all me.

To everything, there is a season, in other words. Even me and my moods, energy levels, likes and dislikes, opinions and what have you.

Sheesh. That’s a relief. Okay, cycling off for now. Love you! Hugs! Happy New Year!

 

 

Remember Who Loves You!

Posted on by
2

In which a love-seeker daringly takes her own good advice.

Whenever a family member or friend is feeling all beleaguered, stressed and overwhelmed—particularly by difficult people—I always like to send him or her off with this direction: “Remember who loves you!” These are the words I call it out to family members as they leave for work. I say them as counsel to friends who’ve been confiding their troubles. I even jot them on notes of encouragement that I pop in the mail.

I’m thinking about this now as I try, once again, to come to terms with the slow progress of my current personal reinvention. It seems to me that it is taking a very, very long time to emerge from my chrysalis. I am ready to flap my wings. That I’m still in transition to finding my next job, well, let’s just say I am not pleased. I want to know what my next right work is going to look like. I want a job. A clear job with a mission and a purpose and a fair income. Impatient? That’s my middle name.

Here’s the thing: I have this book manuscript—The Hungry Ghost: How I Ditched 100 Pounds and Came Fully Alive. And though I’ve been a professional writer and editor for decades, this work is so close to my heart that I’m having trouble putting it out there in the world. To do that, well, it feels kind of like sending a two-year-old off to kindergarten. “I’m not ready,” says the little girl. “You can’t make me!”

The crux of the matter isn’t that I don’t believe in the book. I do. It’s good. And it  feels like it was given to me to give to people like me who every day battle all the indignities of food addiction, compulsive overeating and obesity.

I’m not sure what the problem is. Maybe it’s that I hate criticism. Not so much for my writing. I’ve faced that before. It’s criticism of me and what I believe that I fear. I’m also scared of living large—inviting the whole world to know my story.

I don’t know what’s going on. I do know that the difficult person I’m dealing with at the moment is, you got it, myself!

Because the fact of the matter is, maybe the timing just isn’t right. You know, in God’s time not mine and all that.

So why give myself a hard time? Maybe I should remember who loves me. Lean into the love. Remember a love-saturated moment and recall the feeling I had and summon it up. Absorb. Slow down. Feel it. Take it in.

What do you think? Couldn’t hurt, right? Okay. Right now. Let’s all take a slow, deep breath and remember who loves us!

 

Thanksgiving Locusts

Posted on by
2

Some folks DO grown their own food. These lovely wee eggs were a gorgeous gift from my niece, Cathie Searles. That woman knows how to harvest!

I’m not sure, but for a while there, it looks like I was in danger of losing my mind. I do know that I was in Shoprite supermarket this past Sunday (just to pick up my free turkey). On Monday I was in Foodtown, doing my regular shopping and picking up the free turkey I earned there (free food is free food; if you want to know how to get away with serving turkey five ways in seven days, LMK). Today, Tuesday, I was in Whole Foods because they have the best prices on soy milk and tofu—staples for the two vegetarians in my house—and I was out of both.

I don’t need to tell you that all three places were nuts. Crowded. Intense. Thanksgiving is nearly upon us! In order to be grateful we must shop ferociously! Yikes!

I hate crowds. I hate shopping. Three stores in three days! Triple nuts!

This is also gratitude week. So, yes, I’m mad grateful that I can easily get as much delicious, gorgeous food as my family needs (and then some).

However, I was not having fun that first day shopping. Did I mention I hate crowds and shopping? There I was in Shoprite, gritting my teeth and trying to be in a thankful state of mind when I had a flash of inspiration: What if I looked at the crowds not as a plague of pesky, aisle-clogging locusts but as a team of my fellows engaging in a Harvest Festival?

After all, Thanksgiving happens in the fall for a reason. The original one, so the story goes, was a celebration of the season’s abundance. In the burbs here, we mostly don’t grow and harvest our own crops. But we do go out to the store to secure provisions for our fall feast.

So I tried on this new Harvest Festival idea. And Dear Reader, it worked! When I looked at the other shoppers not as obstacles to my progress but as fellow harvesters, all of us together gathering supplies to nourish our beloved families, I was able to chill, get what I needed, and get out of there! I’m pretty sure, too, that I actually smiled at a few people.

The changed perspective worked in the next two stores as well. Eureka!

I can’t honestly say I enjoyed myself. But I did manage to retain my sanity and my dignity. Now there’s something to be grateful for.

No, I didn’t my mind. This is how I know for sure: I most definitely will not be indulging in any black Friday rituals. I don’t want to push my luck.

Happy Thanksgiving!