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Five And Gone Rule

I’m adopting a new perspective. By choice. Willful (and will probably be very difficult) choosing.  I’m adopting a new “five second rule” not unlike the restaurant version. You know the one?…. the rule (or urban legend, what have you) that says if a piece of food falls to the ground, if it is swooped up before five seconds have elapsed, that it wasn’t contaminated… or not enough that it still can’t be eaten.

I’m going to sidestep addressing the original food issue, here.  But what occurred to me yesterday is that there needs to be a five second rule about thought contamination.

Sometimes a really odd (or distressing…or disgusting, or…) thought comes into one’s mind and you don’t know WHERE it came from, but you don’t want it circling around up there. It’s just… weird. Or wrong. Or just plain awful, in some way.  And you generally have no idea, whatsoever, where it came from. Even worse… sometimes, you do.

I’m going to try a new perspective. If I stop… recognize it for what it is, a random fluttering, from wherever, and not something I truly hope for, embrace, believe in… and I immediately send it back on its way?… then I am not contaminated by it. Such a thought doesn’t have to cause any more distress or take up even one more second of my time.

This is my new thought “five second rule” :  There’s NO bad karma attached to a random, unsettling thought that pops into my head, uninvited, if I immediately sweep it right back out of my mind again.

What do you think about a Five And Gone Rule?

Not everything has to be to the “Nth” degree

I empathize with the character of Sheldon in the TV show, “Big Bang Theory.”  Yes, I pretend to laugh at the show’s other characters and to enjoy the plot lines. But, the truth is… I really empathize with Sheldon. If you’ve not seen the show, trust me, the character is …a character.

In actuality, however, Sheldon is just being himself. He’s not trying to be… trying.

I wish it were Sheldon’s intellect with which I (could in my wildest dreams) identify…but, unfortunately, it’s his OCD traits, instead. They drive him — or rather they drive his friends — nearly crazy. Yep!  Been there, done that.  :-(

So. I accidentally hit “publish” on my previous post, before I intended to publish. I had not proofed the post for the third time (or eighteenth? I can’t remember).  I had definitely not proofed it to the “Nth degree” as my dad would sometimes say. My dad, you see, was kind of a Sheldon, too.

After publishing, I reread my post.  As I started reading, 3 errors immediately leaped out at me.

And. they. are. driving. me   … absolutely crazy. It’s an itch that starts to spread, consuming like a raging wildfire… taking over every thought. A voice starts chanting, “I can’t stand it!!!! I can’t stand it!!!! I can’t stand it!!!!”

But, I can.

And, I will.

I’m going to intentionally let them be.  That may not make sense to anyone else out there but me. But I’m trying HARD to learn the places, the activities, the times when I need to let ‘good enough’ be… enough.

Perfectionism. OCD. Call it what you will. It inhibits productivity. Beyond that, it demolishes self esteem, it steals away joy …it obliterates internal peace.

To any of you reading this, those of you who similarly struggle… my heart is with you. I think there are a LOT of us out there, suffering the same. And, very often, causing others to suffer, right along with us.

So, I say with each baby step we take towards breaking free of the old “tapes” playing in our heads, we lift our glasses and say, clearly and proudly to ourselves, in the mirror:

I do the best that I can. And that is good enough.

Cs the day: embracing my separateness

There’s an Al-Anon mantra, about handling ourselves when struggling with our enabling… when the winds of codependency begin to rise in and around us. It goes something like this:

You didn’t cause this.

You cannot cure this.

You cannot control this.

It’s tough to break the old habits of my ‘sacrificial helping’ that seemed to give me my identity, my self esteem. But I more easily recognize, now I have more quiet,  more distance, that my enabling is neither sacrificial nor actually helpful for anyone on the receiving end.

It takes practice…and more practice…and more. But I’m truly beginning to understand…to feel without pain and to embrace, my separateness. It is freeing, as I finally breathe in and more fully comprehend, I’m actually only responsible for and in control of, myself.

I have read the words for years. And years. There was no magic, no pill, not even a divorce, that could instantly unlock the door that let the reality of those words become more than just words. Time. Distance. Self examination.

My self esteem is never higher than when I break free from those old habits and DARE to believe in and behave in new and different ways that affirm this new emerging me: healthy, capable, caring, empowering.

Whence comes the clutter?

I’m on a clutter-busting mission.

And I have Shakespeare in my head.

‘Strange bedfellows’ you might be thinking. Or not…since that phrase is yet another darn bit from some Shakespeare play. Well, some of us are cursed blessed with bits and pieces of long ago memorized paragraphs of literature that come shooting across our mental bow at weird times. And, my dear friends, Romans, countrymen who are lending me your ear…you know who you are.

OK. The anti-clutter/Shakespeare mashup:

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous disorganization,
Or to take arms against a sea of clutter,
And by opposing… end them.

I choose to BE

So it’s time I take arms against the sea of clutter. I’m tired of the slings and arrows raining down on my parade. Not to mention, my head.

My first step is identifying. I’m starting a list and will be adding to it periodically.

I invite you to feel free to contribute your own entries to the pile.  With or without any Shakespeare.  I’m planning to eventually host a virtual bonfire with the discards so they don’t lay around and re-clutter.

In no particular order, some of the things that are cluttering my “space” are…

* paper. Any time two sheets of paper gather in my girl cave, unchaperoned?…they immediately slip away and multiply like rabbits. Receipts. Recipes. Warranties. Marriage memorandums. Etc. Kept out of worry I’ll “need it some day.”

* “I should ___________” thoughts.   These are the really ridiculous shoulds that I’m only going to be able to pull off in a perfect world, when the moon is permanently blue and we’re all enjoying ice skating on frozen-over hell.

* the whatchamacallit, gotta-give-this-to-so-and-so items, sprung from good intentions, that have found a home by my door

* “They shouldn’t be doing that” thoughts.  They are doing it; I’m only responsible for what I’m doing.

* food that I shouldn’t have bought, but now feel guilty about throwing out. Toss. Don’t buy again.

* gifts for people I didn’t really want to buy, bought anyway, and then didn’t get around to mailing

* gifts I’ve received that aren’t ’me,’ that don’t fit, or that I don’t use on a regular basis

* pine cones. bags of collected pine cones. I grew up tree-deprived and have been trying to make up for it ever since. They’re not going to turn into peanut butter and bird seed slathered bird feeders; I need to release them back into nature.

* “I’m too ___ for that” thoughts. [inserting various adjectives such as old, frumpy, unskilled, uber-responsible or "proper" ].   I. am. not.

<dusting off my hands> Well…that’s a start!

From whence comes your clutter?

Soul petrol

Returning home from my daughter’s wedding early last week,  my car nearly coasted in to the gas station on fumes. This was kind of surprising, seeing as how I’m usually a person who fills the tank when it falls below half.

The next day, however, I realized that my personal “gas tank” was as low or lower than this gauge.  I hadn’t anticipated this. I chalked it up to tiredness and figured I’d be fine the following day.

The wedding was wonderful.  My daughter made a very beautiful bride (even if I am biased), and my son in law was as handsome as they come. The venue was breathtaking…the weather was picture perfect. Even her parents’ divorce didn’t dampen the moment. With the ink on our decree less than six months old, my ex husband and I got along very well. All of his siblings came and they were respectful, even inclusive.

I had all three of my children…healthy, happy, and in one place, at one time…our family and friends all gathered together with us. The whole setting was the stuff of dreams…how blessed I was to get to see my daughter’s dreams coming true.

Everything had gone really well. And yet…afterwards… still, here I was, motivation, energy, enthusiasm… all pegged, on “empty.” The grey, the numbness was palpable.

I told myself this was normal. I called a couple friends. I sat down and tried to write out what I was feeling. I tried a funny movie. It wasn’t funny. I tried favorite music; I felt nothing. For a couple days, I indulged in my tried and true carb-laden comfort foods. None of these things worked.

In the end, instead of desperatly continuing to figure a way to fill myself up I, instead, surrendered. I emptied my tank even further, choosing to have a long cry. I can’t tell you why the tears, I just know they were necessary.

My dog gave up her preferred spot to hop up on my bed and glue herself to me, all night. If I opened my eyes, she opened hers, lifted her head slightly and stared at me until I closed them again.

In the morning, I figured I owed her a longer walk. There was a plume of smoke rising, in the distance, from a brush fire.  I sent an ‘arrow prayer’ up that it might be contained quickly. “Wow, the sky is really blue,” flitted across my mind.

Walking. Breathing in slowly…and exhaling slowly. Feeling the warm sun on my arms. Watching my dog excitedly zig zag back and forth on our walk.

There it was. I could almost hear it.   ….the switch.

The ‘little things’ started registering again. The refilling has started.

A glass act

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Believe it or not, one of the first phrases that was drilled into my son’s head when he became a Marine was “Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!”  I’m not saying there weren’t MANY other things drilled into his head in the Corps…but I am not exaggerating when I say I think that phrase would be in the top five. Without question, that training served him extremely well during his three tours in Iraq. Good son ♥ that he is, he taught his MM (Marine mom) this useful phrase, early on. It will still pop up in conversations every now and then, years later.

Water is my friend. A really, really important friend. But for all my awareness about the importance of hydration, sometimes I still abuse that friendship.  My body usually begins by gently saying, “Excuse me, water please!?”  If that goes ignored for too long, the head begins to throb and all the other body parts, both within and without, begin to dry out, gasp, and complain, each in its own individual way.

Before my divorce, in the house we lived in, I had the luxury of a water filter which (I evidently hadn’t truly appreciated) had greatly enhanced the taste and smell of tap water. In my girl cave (aka apartment), I am without that luxury. The taste and smell of the tap water isn’t horrendous, but it is just enough that I ‘notice’ it, however slightly, each and every time I grab a glass full of water.

I’m not buying bottled water. I am not only trying to be Green as possible but I’m also trying to keep my green as much as possible. And I’m not buying a pitcher filter system that has to be replaced every week. (ditto, same reasoning).

Which all amount to excuses. However, the body doesn’t do well, living on excuses (and without adequate water intake), for too too long…

So, recently, when I asked myself the question, “What is one thing you can do, right now, that will make today (and tomorrow) better?” the answer was quite simple. And actually pretty l-o-u-d (picture drill Sgt, screaming in my face) :   “HYDRATE. HYDRATE. HYDRATE!!!”

So it was time for solutions, not excuses. The answer? Restaurants do it all the time! Easy – economical. Why didn’t I do this ages ago??? I buy two lemons and a cucumber at the grocery store. At night I’ll cut either a couple of thin wedges of lemon or a couple slices of cucumber (or both) and float them in a pitcher of water.

The result? The next day, the flavored water is actually something I really enjoy drinking.  Cost? About $2 a week…and about 2 minutes of self discipline, each night.

After use, I often cut up and freeze the lemon rind pieces. I’ll throw a couple frozen lemon pieces with an ice cube or two — grind in the disposal — and the girl cave plus the disposal smells nice. :-)

Thistle not come your way again

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breathing in nature, breathing out stress

The awareness that I’ve suddenly begun to feel absolutely and totally overwhelmed has been such a frequent and unwelcomed companion for the past few years, that I sometimes don’t even question it. Whenever it arrives, it’s the gigantic elephant in the middle of my mental living room. Don’t ask!! Don’t talk about it!! Don’t even question it being there.

But I did question it this morning. I asked myself what changed between the moment when my heartrate was at a normal level…to the moment, only seconds later, when my heartrate was in the upper stratosphere. (because the elephant likes to come over and sit right on my chest)

Why did he arrive? The answer is nothing new; the environment was ripe. It’s fear concern about the future sprinkled liberally with ’OMG’ thoughts about the present circumstances staring me in the face.

I’m tired of hearing, reading…even repeating to myself, over and over, that “I have the key.”  Why, if I have the darned key, must I evidenly be keeping it safely tucked in a drawer somewhere and not using it?!?? Somehow, some way, it must be that “no pain, no gain” thing again.

Today, however, I went and got that key and started looking at it, thinking about it.

What is one thing I can do…to make today better than yesterday?

OK, self:  “What is one thing – however small – I will do, to make today better than yesterday?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do.”

<sounds of a struggle>

“Fine!!!  I’m setting a boundary around my walks with my dog.”

“What????”

It didn’t seem like much of a step, at first. But immediately after I said it, after I mentally committed to it, I began to breathe a tiny bit better for doing so.

In recent weeks I had begun to let family and friends come along on these walks. They weren’t there in person, mind you, but on my phone. It didn’t seem like a problem. But I’ve figured out that this change has been affecting my mental attitude, my patience levels.

As typical of their age and lifestyle (so I’ve been told by friends), my children often call me en route to wherever they are headed next – driving to or from work, on their way to run errands, etc.  Up to this point, I had made it a priority to pick up their calls, whenever and wherever, in order to maintain as much contact as possible.

But I realized that my walk times with my dog are unique and precious times, not only with her, but also communing with nature, with God. And they are irreplaceable. The brief moments in my day spent in this beauty and peacefulness pass by quickly, not to be recaptured. When I have my mind on an outside conversation, I am walking in nature… but I am not present.  I’m unable to absorb all the beauty around me – the sights, the sounds, the smells.

When I’m out walking and truly communing, I almost always begin to feel gratitude bubble up within me. My heartrate is in tune, my patience cup is refilled.

So I have prescribed a ”new”…a former…regimen for myself, to alleviate my symptoms of feeling overwhelmed :

(1) take two walks a day, no phone calls. be present. inhale deeply, slowly…exhale

(2) drink a glass of water upon return

(3) get your list out, choose a step, even a baby step in a positive direction… and take it

(4) lather, rinse, repeat.

P.S.  There’s a slight implication that the first picture is thistle, when it’s actually clover blossoms. But once the title came to me, it wouldn’t let go. :-)

Conditioning for my pyramid climb

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This morning I woke up with the catchphrase, “No pain, no gain” circling. I swatted at it, like a gnat. It arrived yesterday and it’s evidently going to circle, just above and out of reach, until I confront it, deal with it. It’s like a turkey vulture lazily catching the wind currents as it spirals over a possible target.

I haven’t the time to actually write a post, but writing a post is what I must do if I want to be able to focus on my actual to do list, the rest of the day. Setting a timer to write this post within a specific, limited timeframe creates extreme frustration and irritation – but, deep down, I know that is precisely the whole point of this emerging awareness, this ‘simple thought’ that has been holding me hostage : No pain, no gain.

I’m beginning to realize that, in recent months, within the realm of things I can control, I have been creating a life in which I have little exposure to pain. In one sense, that is a wonderful, healthy place to be. Generally, humans arrive pre-programmed with exceptional sensors and warning systems that help us avoid actual physical or psychological pain and suffering.

However, once our most basic needs are met – such as health, food and shelter, sleep, and a sense of safety – we generally have a natural longing for more. If the foundation is stable, it is quite normal to become aware of and to desire the things, the feelings, further up Maslow’s hierarchy of needs pyramid, such as a desire for belonging, self esteem and self actualization.

From my new, healthier vantage point, I have arrived at a gentle ‘ah ha moment.’ There is a ’price’ for those things, those feelings that I desire. They won’t just flutter down from the heavens like pixie dust to settle upon me. They are there, they are within reach…but they do not come to me. I must do the reaching. I must stretch.

And, therein, is the clear choice I now grasp. Obviously, many many people learn this at a much earlier age…but, no matter.  That I am finally getting it?, before it is too late,  is what is essential.

No pain, no gain.

I want to climb the pyramid. In fact, I want to get all the way to the top.  And my growth and fulfillment muscle is…evidently… an actual muscle that’s going to help get me there. It requires regular use to stay strong, stay limber. Remaining only in my comfort zone, as I have recently been doing…I am feeling that muscle beginning to atrophy before I even begin the climb. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

I will set my own circuit training course. I can build stronger structure, create urgency and deadlines, form accountability bonds within or outside of my existing support system.

Without many external forces exerting the necessity to do things out of my comfort zone, to truly push myself to my limit and beyond, I choose to do that to myself, for myself.

Rescuing plants, rescuing myself

I found the abandoned plants about two months ago now, next to a trash dumpster in my apartment complex. One indoor plant, one outdoor. They were pretty bedraggled, but someone had tended to them at one time. Whoever left them there could have tossed them in the trash, but they cared enough to place them in a visible spot where they might be rescued. The outdoor plant was just bare, dried out looking twigs with some green twine wrapped around them, tied to some bamboo sticks, evidently to train the branches upward. The indoor plant had maybe six or seven leaves, three of which were bruised, yellowing and about to fall off. The latter was in a leaky plastic pot, inside a Cool Whip tub. From the tags that were still stuck inside the pots, I learned the outdoor plant is a hydrangea, the indoor plant, an anthurium.

I didn’t yet have any plants in my girl cave as Callie (cat) just loves to chew on anything green that is within her reach.  Unfortunately, in this apartment, almost anything is within her reach if she makes up her mind to get it.  Still, I knew I wanted plants and, although I hadn’t figured out how I would do it, I made the quick decision to adopt these two. They needed some plant love and I had some to give.

I don’t have a green thumb, per se. But I do have a history, from office settings years ago, of rescuing plants that coworkers had all but killed off, and bringing them back to life. I wasn’t familiar with either one of these plants so I tried to read the tags, but the tags were water logged and I was in the midst of the chaos of moving in. I decided I’d “wing it” and believe in the best outcome. I told the plants that as I put the hydrangea outside on the porch. There was no spot to put the indoor plant where Callie couldn’t attack it admire it, so I rigged a plastic grocery store bag around the Cool Whip tub, wrapped it around a hanger and hung all of the above on an over-the-door hook on my bedroom closet. It’s near a window and far enough from any furniture that Callie can’t reach it, no matter how she stretches. It may not be pretty, but it’s functional.

Faith, a little appreciation, some sunshine, a little water… and love. Two months later, I have two wonderful plants that cheer me just looking at them.

I started reflecting on this successful rescue story, and I’ve decided I need to do the same process with myself. I wasn’t left by a dumpster, but without a doubt, I’ve had moments of hopelessness of late. The strain and daily pressures of my situation have been wearing me down. In short, I have become completely bedragged. I’ve avoided mirrors lately, but I don’t need a mirror to tell me this, I have only to replay the look on the face of the acquaintance I ran into at the grocery store yesterday.

It’s crisis time. I must be brave enough to put the oxygen mask on myself, first. I need to truly follow the above prescription on myself :  Belief in the best outcome…with regular applications of appreciation, some sunshine, decent nourishment…and love.

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