Service Entrance

I'm going to try a new approach this time. I'm going to come back to writing through the back door. I've been running away from it for a while now, either because I've had too much to say, or not enough, I'm still not quite sure. What I am sure of is that I've been paralyzed and not writing and fretting about all of the not writing.

Lately I've been trying to sit down and just do writing practice. It doesn't matter what I write about. Sometimes I pull a prompt from one of my many writing books, sometimes I sit down with something of my own in mind. Either way, I meander all over the place, drop one thread, pick another one up, and I'm mostly up in the ether, rather than down on the earth, in the world. I'm having a hard time with concrete detail these days.

As I'm sitting down to do these short stints, I'm trying not to worry about what I'm writing so much as the fact that I'm doing it. Yes, I would love to be able to pull a line, a phrase, a page from a notebook and turn it into something worth showing someone else, but if I think too hard about doing that right now I'll end up paralyzing myself again and running away from the page, so right now I'm concentrating on the basics. I'm watching my hand move across the page and watching my brain as it navigates through the time I've set myself and the topic I've chosen.

Sometimes I feel an old spark and can see things taking off. Sometimes I even let them take off a bit, let myself keep going after the timer has shrieked at me and I've silenced it. Not too much yet, though, because I still worry about running out of steam, so usually I put the pen down and step away from what I was doing.

Down the road I'll go back through these pages and see what things look like when the ink has fully dried and I have some distance from the tentative explorations through the service entrance of my writer's life. Will I find artichoke hearts or pickled pigs' feet? Who knows, right now, stocking the shelves is the bit I need to concentrate on. Later I can figure out how to work with the ingredients I've amassed and figure out how to turn them all into a banquet (how's that for a mixed metaphor?).

There's Nothing Wrong With Me, Why Do You Ask?

I started off this morning thinking about why it's so hard for me to accept a compliment, or even to believe it when someone says anything positive that involves me in any way. It's ridiculous that, at nearly 41, I automatically doubt these things when they come from others. So I spent a lot of time today thinking about why that was, and I think I may have a handle on it.

I have spent my entire life being told, directly or indirectly that there is something wrong with me. I have ektrodactyly, which for me translates as four fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot. Thing is, it's not who I am. There are very few things I want to do that I can't do because of it (okay, I can't get safety caps off prescription bottles, fair enough, but now they don't put them on in the first place -- problem solved). I write, I knit, I screw things into walls on occasion, and I do all sorts of other things that I and others manage to enjoy quite a bit. So do a lot of other people. Thing is, when I do these things, it's somehow a major accomplishment in the eyes of some, and that drives me completely insane!

I love my family and friends, truly, but I love some more than others. The ones I love the most are the ones I've never had to forgive even a little bit for treating me differently. The ones who have never used the words "birth defect" or "disability" or "handicap" in reference to me outside of a very specific conversation about my hands. The ones who haven't done a double-take when meeting me for the first time, haven't paused a beat or two before taking my hand when I've offered it to shake, haven't assumed that other, less-enlightened individuals than themselves may have a problem with my hands (though they don't, of course). Yes, I know it's strange (I look at photos of myself and get some sense of how things must look to you), or at least different, but the moment it's pointed out, it's also implicitly made "wrong."

When I am on my own, doing my own thing, I don't feel like there's anything wrong with me. I can do what I need to do. I've figured out how to live my life with what I've got (what other choice is there?), but it doesn't make me noble or special or any more amazing than anyone else. What it makes me is independent and capable in my own right, just like any of you. Telling me you are amazed that I knit doesn't make me feel good, it makes me feel like a specimen.

The fact that I "manage" as well as I do, that I'm not afraid to use my hands in conversation, that I go out in public in sandals in the summer and live the same damned life as anyone else I know should not be a surprise to anyone. If it is, then something is "wrong" with me, and I'm tired of living under the supposition that there's something for which I and everyone else in my life need to be compensating. Because, for once, I'd like to be able to accept a compliment without question. I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?

Loosening My Grip

I've come to a few decisions over the past couple of days, and they all boil down to release. I need to try to let go of all of these things I keep worrying about, because in most cases I have no control over them anyway. I can't say I won't think about them at all, but I need to step back from them, because if I don't I'll only make myself crazy and that won't be good for anyone.

So, my friend going through a string of bad days -- I can keep thinking about him and hoping that things let up for him and his situation soon, but I can't keep constantly wondering if things are okay. Eventually there will be a turning point and he'll feel better and I hope it's sooner rather than later, but my worrying about it won't make it come any faster.

The complicated feelings/situation/guy -- They'll all resolve themselves one way or the other eventually. My feelings won't be any less complicated, but I can take a few steps back from them and recognize that turning them over and over like a magpie with something shiny won't make them any less confusing or complicated. All there is for this is time.

My new physical state -- I'm beginning to re-introduce formerly forbidden foods into my diet. It is a conscious choice that will inevitably lead to weight gain. I don't need to be a certain size for things to work our for me, and if I did, then the things probably wouldn't be what I'd truly want or need anyway.

The only new wrinkle in this whole plan is that (with some convincing from my sister) I've decided to take another stab at the meeting-someone-online approach. I don't have much confidence that it will work, and I'm honestly still far more interested in the complicated situation, but I need to do something to open my life up a little bit beyond the matters that have been consuming so much of my mental energy lately. If that means composing emails to people I may or may not want to sit across a table from down the road, then so be it. For now, at least.

The ultimate goal is just a bit more calm at the present moment. Some breathing space between the what-ifs I carry around with me every day. The possibility of things that will make me smile. Doesn't that sound nice?

Maelstrom: Interior

First, Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you are surrounded by love today, whether that means hearts and flowers and a fancy meal, or something more quiet and solitary. I took a walk out into the unseasonably warm day and bought myself my first hot chocolate in over a month at lunch and this evening I put my kitchen to rights and had a very simple dinner. Even though I am single, and uneasily so (which I hate admitting over and over again, but there it is), I am not thrown by being alone on Valentine's Day. The day comes with such unreasonable expectations and things can just get downright weird if the two halves of a couple aren't in sync (like the year I cooked a lovely dinner and chocolate cake for my boyfriend... and he brought me porn; amazingly we were together for several more years after that); in some ways it's more relaxing to simply spend it on my own.

Meanwhile, my life is still in upheaval, at least inside my head. I'm trying to work through complicated feelings about a complicated situation with a complicated guy, and it means I spend plenty of time with my mind awhirl, especially since I don't feel like discussing the particulars with anyone, with the possible exception of Mr. Complicated himself, and that's not even possible. Nothing about it is easy, and I think about whether the lack of ease should tell me something, except that I'm too drawn in to simply walk away. Of course, for all I know, that could be exactly what he'd say if we ever got around to talking about it again.

I have a terrible habit of building scenarios in my head about things over which I have no control. They rarely have things falling to the good in my favor, because I walk around worrying about what I may have done or said wrong to screw things up. I hate that I still do this and if I could figure out a way to stop it I certainly would.

Oddly enough, another source of upheaval at the moment is the 15 pounds I've lost in the past five weeks. I'm probably thinner than I've been in a decade, and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself, or how to feel about it. I'm not a dieter, and I try not to put too much emphasis on weight, though I work with a lot of people who do. I've never really been heavy, and it's not a metric by which I judge people, but that doesn't mean I am free of body issues. This change in my physical makeup has me all ferhoodled at the moment, because I don't expect to maintain it, and yet there's some small voice in my head telling me that maybe I should, that maybe I'd be better able to find whatever it is I'm looking for (what is that, exactly? Haven't a clue) if I worked at keeping myself this thin for the long haul. I hate that voice, because it plays into all of the negative issues and stereotypes that come with being a woman in this society; all of the things I want to avoid and rise above.

I need a new outlook, a way to seek shelter from this storm in my psyche. I'm not sure where to find it, though, while I am so intent on clinging to things that put me in a spin and keep me off-kilter. I don't feel free and secure enough to let go of complications, just in case they might lead to exactly the right thing (even though rationally it seems unlikely).

So the maelstrom continues to whirl and I continue to bob along inside it, because that's what I've come to expect of my life. Should I cultivate new expectations? Probably. Will I? I can hope, but I remain unconvinced.

Panicstricken

I woke up at 6 am this morning with my heart banging against my chest so hard that I almost felt sure it wouldn't stay put for good. It was the worst panic attack I've had in a while, but I knew what it was, and was able to get myself calmed down after about an hour and find my way back to some much-needed sleep. The feeling stayed with me to some degree for most of the day, which is awkward and unnerving, so say the least. Luckily, since it was Saturday, I could start my day slowly and choose how to spend it.

Today's anti-anxiety solution was two movies at the bargain theater, spicy Thai food, and a thrifted sweater. They all helped, but it wasn't until I got home and took slight action around one of the probable causes of the panic that I started to truly feel better. I've been stressed out all around lately, so there were all sorts of things pushing me to what happened this morning, but hopefully I've made a choice that will, at least temporarily, keep one of them at bay. It's not the solution I should choose to make it go away once and for all, because I don't know that I want that to happen, no matter how stressful it is at this moment. Also, if I chose to do something for good right now, today, what I would do would be driven by stress and anxiety and the outcome would not be one anyone involved would be happy with for several reasons.

I know. I'm being intentionally and maddeningly vague, but at the moment it's all I can handle. Until I can figure out what to do, or until it resolves itself on its own, this particular thing will have to stay vague, and I'm good with that. If my solution doesn't keep the panic at bay, I'll have to rethink, of course.

What was my point? I desperately wish I knew. I think it was mostly to remind myself that I can get through panic and anxiety to something close to calm if I work at it a little bit and to stay strong in my resolve to stick to my decision on that one crazy-making thing, because it is an action all too easily reversed. If that happens too soon (I say "too soon," because I know it'll happen eventually -- I'm not that healthy), I'm right back to where I started, and I don't want a repeat of this morning anytime soon.

Cabin Fever

We've hit the mid-point of winter and I've had enough. Weekly storms have disrupted my work schedule and cold weather has made me not want to leave the house.

I'm halfway through a program at a local yoga studio and am struggling with that as well. Turns out I don't really like being told what I can and can not do, what I can and can not eat, and when I should be getting up and going to bed. It hasn't been all bad, at all. I'm eating much healthier and have (with one bad day) kept within the dietary guidelines and restrictions, I've lost a few pounds, and I have seen some progress in my yoga practice, though I haven't been practicing as consistently as the program suggests, because old knee issues have resurfaced.

I finally reached out to a former freelance editor, who gave me an assignment, and suddenly I'm paralyzed by the possibility of screwing it up, even though it's a short, simple piece with sources already in place. I'd like to find some well of confidence, but I'm not sure where to look. I'm out of the habit of saying "yes" to opportunities and knowing that I can take them on.

I'm chafing at my full-time job for no good reason besides being restless and bored, though not for lack of things to be done. I want to get out and GO somewhere, but don't feel as though I can take the time to do that right now. I feel locked in place and that makes me anxious.

I'm still going back and forth about being single. Some days I'm fine with it, some days I'm ridiculously needy. I went back to yoga last night for the first time in two weeks, despite my knee, partially because I was pretty sure that at some point someone would touch me. I could probably go back (again again) to my most recent ex-boyfriend without too much persuasion (he keeps popping up to ask what I'm doing or if we can get together), but I have no desire to do that. I want to move forward -- whatever forward looks like -- not backward. Of course, that also means that the volume of email back-and-forth with my ex-husband should also decrease substantially.

I think what I'm missing most is companionship and I'm just not getting that from Facebook and Twitter, no matter how much I post, comment, or reply. I have good friendships that have developed in both places, but it's not the same as sitting and having a conversation with someone face-to-face. I had two nice visits with friends this weekend that brought home just how vital live interaction is to my well-being.

I'm not sure where all of this leaves me. Mid-winter blues, I suppose, on a stormy night in my little house by myself. Things could be far, far worse and there are bits and pieces on the horizon to look forward to, so I'd imagine it'll all work itself out right, and sooner or later the giant piles of snow will melt and the sun will spend more time in the sky and I'll figure out where that well of confidence has been hiding all this time.

Reverb 10 #3

December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

I've been thinking about this all day, and the moment I keep coming back to is the one when I emerged onto 8th Avenue from Penn Station on my birthday trip to New York City in July. It was the first time I'd gone to New York on my own, and the first time I'd gone for more than a day in several years. It was one of the hottest days of the summer, the sun was shining brilliantly and it was just after 10 am (I'd walked to the train station in Lancaster fairly early that morning). There was the usual throng of people outside of Penn Station, waiting for buses, trying to figure out which way they needed to go, who knows. For once, I wasn't one of the confused. I came up the stairs, out the doors, and immediately turned right and pointed myself in the general direction of Union Square Park and the Green Market. I ducked briefly into a doorway and took a quick peek at my map to be sure of exactly how to get there, then threw myself into the flow of Saturday morning Manhattan pedestrian traffic.

This may not seem like such an extraordinary moment for most people, but that fact that I was where I was, on my own, confident in where I was going and what I was doing was a huge turning point for me. It was a release of a level of anxiety I wasn't sure would ever recede, and an expansion of life after six-and-a-half years of contraction, during which my life seemed to get smaller and more confined with every turn.

The four days I spent in New York (all but I few hours of which I spent with no one I knew) were a reminder that I have the whole wide world in front of me, and that I need not let it be taken away by myself or anyone else. That reminder began to gel the moment I stepped out into the July humidity that first moment.

Reverb 10 (#1 and #2)

I'm playing follow-the-leader with PoMo Golightly and Tea Leaves in deciding to give Reverb 10 a try. One prompt a day for the month of December, reflecting back on the year just past and looking forward to what could be in the year ahead. And, as a bonus, it could get me blogging daily.

December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? (Author: Gwen Bell)

The word for 2010 is, without a doubt, "change." Since January of this year I have: started a full-time job at a bank (ugh!), bought a house, moved, ended a relationship, attended the funeral of a college friend, celebrated a milestone birthday, conquered my NYC anxiety, left the bank job for my old art college job, had my freelance outlets die on the vine, returned to meditation (and, to a lesser extent, yoga), and become friends with my ex-husband. Well, those were the major things, anyway. It has been a year during which I have honestly never been quite sure what was waiting around the next corner or at the end of any given day.

The changes have been a blend of good and bad, and most of them have had significant lessons attached to them. I've tried to ride all of them out with as much equanimity as I could muster, but, I have to admit, it hasn't always been easy. It certainly won't be a year I'll forget too quickly.

As for 2011, I'd love for the word this time next year to be "equilibrium." I don't want to be static, by any means, but I want to be at a point at which I feel as though I can handle what is coming at me with grace. I want to not be upended by each new thing, good, bad, or indifferent. I have to believe that this is not too much to ask.

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? (Author: Leo Babauta)

Most of what I do each day doesn't contribute to my writing. I find practically any excuse to put it off, or to shelve it altogether, because part of me is convinced that it doesn't have enough value to bother doing. I know that's not true, and if I would work consistently at writing, rather than frittering my time away with things that have even less value, I would see the truth of it more clearly and devote more time and energy to producing work and putting it out for more than just my own eyes.

Sitting

Right now I'm sitting on an old wooden kitchen chair in the no-man's-land between my living room and dining room portions of the main room of my first floor. I also happen to be in front of an antique mirror that used to hang on my grandmother's wall, so every time I look up from the screen I see myself, which is admittedly odd. Sitting here, now, I am trying to unravel the effects of sitting more formally earlier.

The past couple of months have found me returning to the local Zen meditation group, which meets every Sunday night in the basement of the Unitarian church in town. I have attended this group on and off for years, but the last time I stopped it was for much longer than before. I get something out of sitting with this group, even though I'm not entirely sure I'd absolutely call myself Buddhist, but sometimes I get too close to things I'd rather not examine and I find myself running. I want to get past that.

Sometimes when I sit I can tune into my breath and fall into whatever space it seems meditation should tip you into at least for a few minutes at a time. Most often, though, all I really discover is just how noisy my brain really is and how much energy I devote to thinking about mundane and trivial matters.

Tonight I found that I had to sit with my eyes open -- I usually prefer to close them for the bulk of the sitting period -- because every time I closed them I found myself welling up and stifling sobs. I couldn't put my finger on any one source of upset, and as long as I kept my eyes open it wasn't a problem. My best guess is that I need to take a look at the ongoing sources of stress and anxiety in my life and try to figure out how to resolve them.

The anxiety I feel when I look up and catch a glimpse of my 40-year-old self in the mirror has less to do with being 40 and more to do with still trying to figure out how I've managed to disappear into myself and what I need to do to break the surface again. Sitting with the questions, formally and informally seems to be one way to get there.

Rollercoaster

Emotional one, that is. Today has been a doozy, and I can only guess as to why.

This morning was fine. I had a late breakfast at Chestnut Hill Cafe, wrote in my journal a bit, had a nice conversation with a couple I used to see often when we all went to Dosie Dough on Lemon Street before it changed hands. Nice.

I saw Julie & Julia this afternoon. I loved it, it made me cry, of course. I nearly always cry at movies that are even the least bit touching. I rarely cry in real life anymore, which may be why I am watching more movies lately.

When I came home, I had a conversation with a friend that brought things up. Some old, some new, and I found myself in tears again. Since the conversation was via chat, sobbing didn't actually impede conversation. I hold too tightly to things that made me happy once, even if they are no longer relevant to my life. That was part of it. The other part was what comes next for me.

I have been working at a temp assignment since the beginning of August. In day-to-day dealings, I like the people I work with, but am not crazy about the work, and am not crazy about corporate work in general. I may be offered the position I have been filling this week, and even though I'm pretty sure I don't want it and know that it would drive me crazy if I took it, I begin to second-guess my gut instinct at the prospect of benefits and full-time work, especially in the midst of an uncertain economy. The conversation turned to this dilemma. My friend had my best interests at heart when encouraging me to take it, but I pushed back, because it doesn't feel right, and I don't want to take another full-time job, only to find myself miserable enough to leave it in a year or less. I don't want to disappoint people, but it feels as though it'll happen no matter what, sooner or later.

After that plunge, I took a walk in the fall afternoon, ate a juicy Asian pear, and came home feeling better. Then I knocked a jug of maple syrup with a loose cap (didn't know it) off a refrigerator shelf and had to clean up a sticky puddle.

It just goes on and on. Up-down-up-down. Some days are like this, I suppose, but I haven't had one quite this rocky for a while. I'm obviously on a transition point, one way or another, and it's clearly throwing me off-balance. I'm hoping I can breathe through it and come out the other side without major public embarrassment.

After today, the work week should be smooth sailing.

That Haunted Feeling

Ever have one of those days when you wake up all twisted and clenched inside and can't quite figure out why? That was me today. I have bouts of anxiety, I know this, I deal with it, and get on with things, usually.

Today was worse than it has been in a long time, and I'm not entirely sure why. Could be that I'm trying to decide whether to go on a big expensive trip, but I've been mulling that for a month or two. Could be because I have a pre-milestone birthday tomorrow, but I haven't been feeling stress about that. Could just be that my brain decided I'd gone too long without major anxiety and I need to be kept on my toes. Who knows.

If I still lived alone, I may have stayed at home all day, even though it was a beautiful, sunny, summer Saturday and the markets were full of good food and interesting people. I'm glad I went out, I got some of that food, and visited with some of those people, and there were moments during which the anxiety abated, but never quite disappeared.

What have I learned today? That if I have major anxiety, I need to not hibernate. I need to get out amongst people and sunshine, at least for a little while.

Let's hope I remember this for next time.

Enjoy what's left of the weekend.