It’s 3:30 in the morning, I get up for usual acquaintance in the middle of the night, my toilet and a brief conversation with my cat who hangs out on the heat register. He meows constantly as though he is telling me his most important thoughts and dreams. He finishes his conversation and I head back to my room to try and get the last few hours of sleep.
It is the middle of the night, that can be so challenging, my thoughts wandering to what ifs, the things I must do, the duty, and the unknown of life in general. It normally takes quite some time to finally get it to shut off in my little igloo; I keep my window open or a fan on for the whole year, so it’s a tad chilly.
Today was my usual day of self discovery in my session. At times it feels as though I’m not changing, yet after a few thoughts pop out I receive a new gift of self discovery, where the curve on the road is continuously changing, weaving, even though I may feel it is not.
My little miss is on another grand Paddington Bear adventure into Iceland and the fear overcomes me each time she travels and because she travels alone, more often than not. My anxiety is shooting through the roof with issues and putting fires out at work, yet all I wanted to do was spend a few quiet moments sitting and talking to her. Thank goodness we did talk the night before otherwise my heart would have been broken.
I am living some of my grand adventures with her, at times when we go together on a trip, at times as a family but also through her photography, her journalism writing and the happiness you see in her face when she is somewhere new. I may not be able to fly a long way, due to my issues, but I’m thinking she may have to take me here, as it looks amazing, and breath taking.
I do have to say both Mr. Jones and I both provide her with the usual safety speech as she is meeting new friends, but I always add, make sure you have pictures of your new friends and names. What I really wanted to say is; a copy of their passport and a swab but that’s going over the edge in my mind, right? Or could I just label it as being the protective mother bear.
When I was sixteen, I had to meet with a specialist and was told you would not have children, very unlikely. So the surprise of my little miracle girl was pretty amazing, but also at this point being told that, I had to change. My mind had refocused on other areas that I let become priority and that had went to the bottom of my list, as it was not meant to be and then here it was happening. Even though her biological father was not there for her, Mr. Jones was and still is, he says he forgets she is biologically not his, as to him she is. That is a true father, someone to love you, teach you and keep you safe, that’s a family.
While sitting in my session, I start to describe an area I’m exploring. I had to recently return to an area that causes me great pain, fear and trauma. In a split second it shoots me back to that day and I collapse briefly, gagging, the smell overtakes me. As I come to, I swear, get up and head away from there as quick as I can, tears on my cheeks. Life is messy, sticky, and memories at times are icky. That is what life is, a bundle of all the ick and all the goodness to give us some balance, the Yin and Yang, I think I may have found some recently. I am working on the ickiness of life by becoming my own Nancy Drew, magnifying glass included.
I loved playing the Clue game as a child and I still do. I read mystery books, love watching shows of mystery and can bury myself into a set of clues and not come up for air for a while. I do the same at work when that icky feeling takes over and I know something is off. I work through all the angles, listen to my gut instinct, and read the signs around me, I dissect and solve, even when I know the answer isn’t always great.
Mr. Jones shares a new mystery with me, that we can obtain monthly, delivered to us at home, but they said you have to have the stomach for it. I kind of thought to myself, you deal with some of that in real life, do you think it could help you realize some of the icky parts and the pain it causes you, could you work into the mind of what is actually the reasoning to help you heal? I know it might sound odd, but I’m willing to keep trying to, if it keeps me exploring and diving into areas that can help me continue me be and not be overtaken by the ptsd, not by those sights and smells.
It has its own mind I feel, as if it can pull on one thread on my sweater and unravel weeks or months of work. You then have to work through it and then continue the process. I can see it more when it happens. Just like the clues of a mystery I can see when it is beginning at times in my head or with the anxiety, but I do get caught off guard at times like a swift punch to the face. Those ones I’m trying to figure out, what happened, what was the root, was it brewing for a bit?
So, a few weeks ago I rolled out my yoga mat at class and I have been attending faithfully. It’s not an obsession, but such a learning environment as I channel my breath into each movement, building my strength to fight my own demons and learning how to use the breath to help me; when I have that next episode and scurry away like a mouse instead of the lion that I am.
I am finding a new balance between the ick and the beauty. I know it will take many sessions, but I am ready to harness my energy and continue this healing process. I may also work on some of the anger issues that still overtake me at times, but I know the breath of my body will assist here as well, and maybe a good few kicks at a bag.
I think back to the lady who introduced me to yoga so long ago and how I felt then, and wish I kept it as my daily practice, yet I cannot turn back the time, but change my own perception that maybe it wasn’t the path at that time.
Well on that note, my sleeping Doo is exhausted today, from shopping at the pet store, picking out toys and treats, playing in the dog park, and walking in the sunshine. I wish you the ability to be still, calm the breath and listen to the body. Namaste
Love always, the mat toting, ocean breathing, spandex wearing Woman in Process