battle

Unending Storm

~ crazybuddhaful ~ 1 Comment

It seems the storm just continues to grow and get worse. I really thought that I was at that point where, you know, “Well, it can’t get any worse. It has to get better from here.” Turns out, things can always get worse.

Last night, I spiraled, broke down and just wept. Why does the universe insist on piling it on? When can I catch a break? And of course, I spent quite a bit of time attaching stories of self blame to the latest event (one of my employees is leaving because she got a job that could offer her more money). Then, just before I went to bed, I decided to stop.

I don’t have to attach all this unnecessary, and in all likelihood untrue, meaning to what happened. What does this really mean? Someone quit. As a manager, this is an inconvenience. I’m going to have to find someone new and train them. Is my life really that bad?

I have an incredible father – yes he’s sick, but he’s still fuckin alive and I had the privilege of having him as my dad, uninterrupted until now…and still going, by the way.

I have an amazing partner that is showing up in all the ways I’ve ever wanted. How many people dream and yearn for this. I have it.

I have a great job that offers me exactly what I need right now. Yes, it’s difficult as fuck right now, soon to get even more challenging, but it’s just work. It is the means by which I sustain myself. Outside of that, it can only affect me as much as I allow it to.

This morning, the universe decided to send me a little help. A little offering of practical advice via a newsletter I’m subscribed to: What To Do When You Don’t Know What To Do.

Instead of worrying, over thinking, over analyzing, contemplating worst case scenarios, it offered me 3 steps to follow instead:

  1. Forget about the ultimate outcome.
    • We don’t have much control over it anyway, and most likely many things will continue to shift and change.
  2. Focus on the next right action.
    • What can I do to that will move whatever issue it is I’m having along in the right direction? One step at a time. Baby steps.
  3. Do something now.
    • Do that thing. Do something. But don’t spend time trying to gain clarity over the whole matter, analyzing and overanalyzing what went wrong because the answer is unlikely to come and unlikely to even be helpful.

Dead Battery

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I’m driving up to Big Sur this weekend to visit my friend at Esalen. In preparation, I went to get my car checked yesterday to make sure everything was in good condition. Last night when I got home, I went through the glove compartment to make sure my registration and insurance was in there. I turned on the little light in the middle and reminded myself, “You better fuckin’ remember to turn this thing off.” I have a tendency to forget to do that. Also, last week, I left my lights on while at a Dodgers game, and when I tried to start the car to leave, my battery was dead. So in light of this recent occurrence, it was especially important that I not forgot. Also, since the distress from that experience is still pretty fresh, I figured there’s no way I would forgot.

Skip to this morning. We have a one car garage and P’s car was blocking mine, so I moved it out of the way and got into my car. Click, click, click, click, click. What the?! Yes, you guessed it. Immediately:

Oh…my…god…
You forgot to turn off the fuckin’ light!
You’re such a fuckin’ idiot.
What the hell is wrong with you?!
Is this battery done now? I’m going to have to buy a new fuckin’ battery. There goes another couple hundred down the drain.

I want to cry. I cried. I hate myself. I hate my life. I’m supposed to be at my parent’s house right now to take care of my Dad while my mom takes care of an errand. I feel like this is a sick joke. One fucked up situation stacked on top of another, and it won’t stop. A Jenga master has control of my life and they’re just racking it up.

A shit ton of mindful breaths and a call to AAA later…I’m here. It’s okay. It happened. I’m not an idiot. Yes, I did a very stupid, careless thing, but that does not in and of itself make me some incompetent worthless creature. AAA is coming. Shit happens, but that does not mean that I am shit. I’m not shit. I’m human. I still want to cry and I probably will, but there is a tiny part of me inside that knows it’s okay. I need to be open to that part and let it do its thing instead of drowning it out with all the pernicious, negative thoughts that want to rule this world inside of my head.

May I be at ease.
May I know that I am worthy.
May I feel that I am good enough.

Eat, Pray, Shut Up

~ crazybuddhaful ~ 4 Comments

I’m currently reading Eat, Pray, Love. To be completely honest, I’m kind of embarrassed to be reading this book. I even made a book cover out of a market bag (high school styles) so I could read it in public and not feel judged. Here’s the thing – Elizabeth Gilbert started coming out on a lot of podcasts I listen to and from what I’ve heard, I really like her, and what she has to say really resonates with me. But I have this problem with things that gain a certain level of mass appeal and popularity. Basically, I think there must be something wrong with whatever the thing is if that much of the public can appreciate it…because I think the public is generally stupid. I mean let’s just take a look at the current presidential election. Actually, let’s not…when I think about what’s going on, it just melts my mind. And heart.

Back to Eat, Pray, Love. I believe my curiosity was piqued back when the book first gained momentum, but books that get on Oprah’s bookclub or become movies starring Julia Roberts just confirm my decision to stay away. Yes, I can be quite judgmental and haughty at times. But after I heard some interviews with her, I realized that perhaps I had misjudged the situation.  Although I was most interested in reading her latest book (Big Magic – Creative Living Beyond Fear), I happened upon a used copy of you know what at the library for $1. So I got it…and I love it (and admitting that still makes me cringe a little…I guess I still have a lot of that judgmental me I need to purge).

I just read this part where she commits to talking less: “No more scurrying, gossiping, joking. No more spotlight-hogging or conversation-dominating. No more verbal tap-dancing for pennies of affirmation. It’s time to change.” She then promptly and ironically gets her work detail changed (this is the part where she’s staying at an Ashram in India) to “Key Hostess.” This prompts her to realize that “if God wanted me to be a shy girl with thick, dark hair, He would have made me that way, but He didn’t. Useful, then, might be to accept how I was made and embody myself fully therein.”

I, too, suffer from verbal promiscuity. I talk too much and I say more than I know I should, mostly because I think it will get someone to like me a little bit more. I attempt to barter my words for incremental, and rarely ever expressed, increases in affection. I guess deep down inside, or maybe not even that deep, I just want people to like me and I think that if I say something funny or interesting, it’ll win their affection. Sometimes I’ll repeat petty gossip, but other times, against my better judgment, I’ll disclose more substantive material told to me in confidence because I think it’ll show the listener that I think they’re important enough for me to break my pledge of confidence. This in turn will, you guessed it, get them to like me more…but in reality, all it probably does is just show them that I can’t be trusted with a secret.

I’ve often fantasized about being the kind of person that is quiet, yet possesses an undeniable presence. The strong, quiet type who isn’t concerned about what others think of him or her. The first part will most likely never be me. I’m loud and can be opinionated to the brink of obnoxiousness. But I do think it’s possible for me to get to a place where I’m not so concerned about how others perceive me. Basically, I need to accept how I was made and feel secure enough to embody myself fully therein. I don’t need to say that offensive joke to capture the room’s attention. I don’t need to make that nasty remark about someone I know you don’t like to try to build a bond between us. I don’t need to keep spewing words that aren’t even really in line with how I truly feel inside to stand out, to get attention, to get people to like me.

I am good. I am fine. I am perfect(ly imperfect).

Love + Despair

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A few days ago, I fell into a hole of despair. The day started off fine. I was supposed to go to a friend’s house for a little get together. But, somehow a little argument with my significant other regarding a few circumstances that complicated the issue of when to leave led to a full on breakdown. I no longer had any desire to go. The thought of being around people and having to make conversation made me cringe.

A little context…my dad has cancer. It’s a second time offender. It fuckin’ sucks. But, I’ve been dealing with it pretty well. This is life. It happens. I know. And fortunately, because I’ve been consistently working on living a more mindful life, I haven’t fallen back to my usual poor habits of dealing with things of this magnitude. No binge drinking, instigating fights with my significant other, playing the victim card as carte blanche to act like a complete asshole. So overall, I am really proud of myself for this progress. But, it still fuckin hurts and it still fuckin sucks. Hence, the mental breakdowns.

It can hit me out of nowhere. Set off by the most innocuous events. Or sometimes, by nothing at all. The night before I snapped, I was in the greatest mood. Even the morning of, I was excited about spending the weekend reading, writing and delving into some new art projects. I went over to my dad’s and made him some soup he was craving. He finished the whole bowl, which was amazing because his tongue’s burnt from radiation and he hasn’t been able to eat much due to the pain. Then the phone call…the argument…and it was all over. I just felt the sting of sadness poking me at first. Then it progressed to a numbing of the whole self. When I got home, I dug my feet (or body, rather) into my bed and just lay there staring vacantly out the window.

I couldn’t snap out of it. I no longer wanted to do anything. At first, it wasn’t that bad. It was still daylight and I just watched some TV. But as the night approached, I started feeling anxious and claustrophobic. I didn’t know what the fuck I would do for the rest of the night. I didn’t want to spend the night watching TV. I already inadvertently took a nap, so I wasn’t tired anymore. I started reading. I’m currently reading The Fountainhead and I just started the part on Gail Wynand. As I was reading about this orphaned boy who was eating trash and sleeping on the streets with his laser like focus on accomplishing what he now knew he wanted out of life, I felt subconscious parts of my mind that held information from all the other things I’d been reading or listening to start to activate. Things like discipline, presence, vulnerability, and deliberate practice. Somehow the haze started lifting and I made it over to my paper and pencils.

I definitely felt better the next day and even went for a run. I was ready to take on the day. Then another innocuous exchange of words and BAM, I was back in the hole. It really hurts down there. The purpose of things starts to disintegrate and I don’t want to use any of the tools I’ve gathered for dealing with these kind of situations. I just want to lay under the blanket, curl up into the smallest form of myself, shut my eyes and try to cry the pain away. Am I being over dramatic? Is there something wrong with me? Am I crazy? Or do I just feel too much?

I know this suffering is pointing me towards something…and I’m pretty sure it has to do with the situation with my dad. But, I don’t want to. I’m not ready. I can deal with it from an abstract, philosophical kind of way. But on the emotional level, where I’m a child facing the possibility of losing a parent… I think I’ve tried to disconnect, or at least distance, myself from the emotions. There are so many things I want to say and know. In the past, I could say and ask him anything. But, now… I can see his vulnerability and it really unnerves me.

Death. I know it’s a part of life. And I know that experiencing the death of a loved one is just as vital a part of the human experience as birth is. Or love. It’s probably the key to understanding what Camus meant when he said, “There is no love of life without despair of life.” But, I don’t like it. And I don’t want it around me…not this close. But, here it is. I guess this is what my suffering was trying to point me towards. This definitely wasn’t where I was going when I started writing this, but here I am. OK…I get it. It’s time for me to do the work. I have to accept you as a part of life.

I do.

 

I will.

Why Suffering is a Good Thing

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afterlight

Life is suffering. It’s the first of Buddha’s four Noble Truths. Suffering is the inevitable accompaniment of physical life.

I used to tear myself up about this. My internal conflict. My tortured soul. When I was younger, I drank myself silly over it. I couldn’t understand why/how other people were not as affected as me. How they could just go about their very similarly situated lives dealing with it so much better than I could. My rationalization was that they just didn’t think about things as deeply as I did. But, I couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse. They say ignorance is bliss and those of us who think and feel ourselves crazy, know that if not for all these thoughts in our heads, we could be pretty happy. But, what kind of happiness would it be? Would it be as fulfilling? It could very well be, given that you’d be ignorant of any other kinds. Ultimately, I suppose it’s all relative and I think it’s safe to say, comparison doesn’t ever really lead to feeling better…at least not when it comes to the nuances of the human condition.

So, this is something I’ve been struggling with for a long time…as long as I can remember discerningly thinking about the world and our place in it. Suffering. Misery. Pain. I feel these things acutely. So acutely, and very often for no explicable reason. I get over emotional and (unadmittedly) over dramatic. Words in a book can jump off the page, shake up my heart and incite tears to stream down my face. Watching the lives, real or imagined (like the specials on Pacquiao or Mayweather before their big fight, or episodes of Empire) of people develop and unravel can also rattle me to my core. I feel their pain (even when it’s fiction!) as my pain. I used to think there was something wrong with me…that I was just crazy. And I really resented my emotions. I saw them as a flaw, a kink in my personality that I needed to fix…or rather drown with alcohol…which ironically, just made me even more emotional the next few days as the chemicals in my brain would readjust to the reality of being sober.

Then a friend said something to me that started to shift the way I viewed my emotions and suffering. I was going through one of my usual conniptions, reeling and wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. I had a pretty glorious childhood: no traumatic incidents, I was sufficiently provided for and there was no deficit of love or support. If anything, they overpraised me (which can cause it’s own slew of problems, I know…sometimes, it can even be worse, but that’s a whole other topic). So, I couldn’t understand why the fuck I felt so tortured all the time. And she said to me, something along the lines of: Maybe your emotions and the way you feel is a gift that allows you to empathize with things even though you haven’t been through it yourself. She probably doesn’t know it, (though I’ve told her, she probably doesn’t realize the impact that simple statement had on me) but she really opened up a new paradigm for me.

Pain…suffering…misery…I don’t have to look at these things as simply negative experiences meant to be avoided at all costs anymore. Not only did I realize that these feelings come with the capacity to empathize and hold compassion for others, but it also opened me up to other ways of thinking about it as well. I’ve started to view my suffering and excessive emotions as signs pointing me towards things that are really important to me. I think in the same way that physical pain lets us know that something in our body is malfunctioning, emotional pain is trying to bring our attention to things we need to work on and heal in our lives. That something is bubbling under the surface and needs to get out…and the more magnified that pain is, the more likely we are to do something about it. Because that’s kind of how we’re built as humans, right? None of us are going to run to the dentist when our tooth just hurts a little bit.

OK, Here Goes

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For about 10 years now, I have been saying that my dream is to be a writer. However, in all those years I have not done anything to pursue this dream. Instead, I became a lawyer. When I realized I didn’t want to wake up 10-20 years later and hate my life, I decided to make a career change…into fashion. In all honesty, I enjoy what I do – it’s a hell of a lot more fun than law. But, deep down, I know that it’s not my passion. So why don’t I go after the thing I want most in life? Well, you know…it’s complicated.

Okay, that’s a lie. It’s actually quite simple. I can sum it up in one word: FEAR. Fear of not being good enough, fear of being judged, fear of uncertainty, and of course, that all crippling fear – fear of failure. I know I don’t have to have such a paralyzing fear of failure. I know that failure actually leads to success by eliminating things that don’t work. But, I also know how shitty failure feels and my desire to avoid that shitty feeling trumps my desire to reap the benefits of all the potentially beautiful things that can arise from failure.

Here’s the other thing: right now, my dream is just that – a dream. Untouched, it can remain a fantasy of my idealistic life. Once I try to make it a reality, it’ll become just that – a reality. And we all know how ugly and brutal reality can be. Also, I’m fully aware that once I really try my hand at writing, I may not even like it. What, then? I don’t have a backup dream! So instead of trying and possibly tarnishing this beautiful dream of mine, I prefer to keep it at arm’s length, preserved in its pristine condition…

…until now. I’m sick of living a lesser version of what my life could be. And I’m tired of letting fear control me. Now, I know that fear is not overcome in a day, a month, or even a year. This is a battle I will most likely be fighting for the rest of my life, but it’s okay. I will win some (like finally gathering up the courage to start this blog) and lose some (like constantly making excuses not to post), but more importantly, I know I will learn many invaluable lessons along the way (like whether I actually want to be a writer). Starting now, I am committing myself to doing something everyday, whether it be big or small, to see what this dream actually looks like.

Disclosure: I know that last part sounds all self-assured and ready to take on anything, but truth be told I am having a very negatively visceral reaction to putting this out there. Granted, there are probably all of three people who might read this, but the fact that I am simply declaring this to the universe makes me feel really vulnerable. I guess that’s that fear trying to take over again. Well, it’s all out there now. No turning back.

Loving Kindness

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Those words are still bothering me. I guess I’m still in the field. New plan of attack, or action, rather…I realized yesterday that my MO is to attack. I attack people’s shortcomings so as to feel better about my own. I’m also apparently, a mean person (or at least can be perceived as such). I suppose this is somewhat ironic, given that I am obsessing over a few words that I felt were pretty much just outright fuckin’ mean.

New plan of action: instead of identifying and attacking people’s shortcomings, have some compassion. For she is probably just as insecure as I am. Those words were most likely not loaded with ill intent and a desire to make me feel like shit. It was likely just a misguided attempt to say what she thought was appropriate in that situation. Heck, she probably thought it was the right thing to say…to motivate…to gain respect…to survive. We’re all just doing the best we can. We’re all just trying to survive.

May you be healthy and strong.
May you be at ease.
May you feel safe and protected.
May you be happy and at peace.

As I try to wish these things upon the person who spoke those words to me, I can’t help but think she would scoff at my attempt to show her loving kindness. How ridiculous she would think I am to think she needs something so trite as love or kindness. I recognize that this is probably my ego trying to talk me out of feeling compassion for the person who put me into a spiral. Down, ego. Down!

Today, I will have compassion instead of being so quick to judge in order to protect myself. Instead of focusing on the shortcomings of others, I will try to have compassion.

The Field of My Woes

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Too often, I let myself get carried away into a field of negativity and unhappiness. When I finally look back to see what the hell pushed me there, I realize that more often than not, it was simply words someone spoke to me. This someone is usually my boss or significant other…basically, someone who has some kind of control over a part of my life. In the case of my boss – my livelihood. In the case of my significant other – my heart. After a few days of spewing negativity and just overall malcontent, my eyes, or heart, starts to open and I see that what I am truly battling with is my ego. Constantly repeating some negative phrase or rebuttal in my head, dissecting it to bits until there’s nothing left to analyze, my ego strives to keep me in my place by making me feel like there may be some truth in what was said, because then it can rise to defend me. Only when I feel wounded does my ego have a purpose, a call to fight. If I were to simply accept that what was said was simply a misguided attempt to protect that person’s own sense of self importance, then what on earth would my ego occupy itself with? Well, sorry Ego, but today, I am putting down my arms and walking out of this field. See you next time.