Monthly Archives: February 2012

An Exercise In Surrender

(How many times have I mentioned my therapist lately?  More than once, right?)

My therapist has a sign on her wall, to the left of the couch where I sit.  It says “The Five Fold Path”… #1 is “Be Here Now”… #5 is “Surrender the Outcome”.   Those steps are the most succinct and memorable, thus they are the only ones I’ve committed to memory.

My therapeutic journey has been nothing short of fascinating.  With the help of M, I’ve delved into my childhood, my relationships with my parents, my relationships with my partners and my self in a manner that has allowed me to gain a new level of clarity.  I’m now able to see all kinds of *things* that I couldn’t before… patterns have emerged… certain thoughts and feelings have lost their significance… and I’m learning to find stability within myself amidst whatever drama swirls about in my daily existence.  (And I thought I was oh-so-enlightened before.  Ha!)

In one session, I was given a homework assignment:  construct a collage reflecting the words “Vulnerability”, “Asking” and “Receiving”.  I left M’s office with a sense of purpose.  It had been a long time since I embarked on such an art project and I excitedly planned the details in my head.  I reviewed my method of collage creation:  define a design, compile pictures, meticulously cut those pictures out and place them so that each piece of paper is both under as well as on top of at least one other item.  My plans were taking shape…

I gathered a bunch of magazines (acquired for free due to budget constraints).  As I set to work at finding pictures, I was surprised to discover that it was rather difficult.  The magazines were filled with images depicting perfection, empowerment and performance… if I wanted images about vulnerability, asking and receiving, I’d have to alter my perspective on what I was looking at.  So, I did.  With a little shift in perception, I was able to tear out many pages… oddly enough, many of them featured fruit.

The night before my next session with M, I prepared to put my collage together.  By that time, my new perspective extended beyond just the pictures I compiled.  Instead of purchasing a piece of posterboard, I decided to use an old sheet of cardboard that I used to protect the floor in my basement during a spray painting project. I’d been walking on it for months… so it was pretty vulnerable, right?  I hauled it up from the basement, placed it on my living room floor and considered it.  In its previous existence, the piece of cardboard was a box.  There were flaps on the edges; its shape was imperfect.  Instead of cutting it into a new shape, I decided to leave it as it was.  Next, I turned to my pile of magazine pages.  Again, I opted to try a new approach:  instead of using scissors and carefully cutting out the shapes, I ripped them (with the exception of one image in particular that I insisted be crisp).  As I glued the shiny paper to the cardboard, I followed no rules regarding placement.  I impulsively secured each item without strategy.  And I didn’t even use all the pictures I’d collected… some of them just didn’t feel right anymore.  I left crude edges and naked spaces.  I felt a little lazy and irresponsible… yet, I also felt free and creative.  Contrary to my initial intent, I wasn’t constructing a collage but rather witnessing a collage take form.

I was fully present in the moment and I had surrendered the outcome.

The next day, I marched into M’s office and proudly placed my artwork on the table in front of her.  I sat beside her as I pointed out certain images and chattered happily about what they meant to me and what I learned from the assignment.

“I let go,” I told her.  “I planned enough to make it happen, but I didn’t try to control every aspect of it.  And… the end result is OK!  I mean… it’s perfectly imperfect.” (just like me.)

M smiled.  “You really grew from this,” she observed.

I nodded.  “I did.  And I don’t think I’m done.  There’s all these empty spaces… and the other side… by handling it the way I did, I left so many open possibilities.  It has so much potential!” (just like me.)

We spent the rest of the session talking about how much we don’t know and how much we can’t control and how none of it matters anyway ;)

“Softness triumphs over hardness, feebleness over strength. What is malleable is always superior over that which is immovable. This is the principle of controlling things by going along with them, of mastery through adaptation.” – Lao Tzu

A Work In Progress

Love Lesson From The Dog

Bullygirl’s medical crisis forced me to think about a lot of things.  From the upheaval of emotion and outflow of cash came an influx of inner peace and clarity.  I needed this.  I never would have asked for it, but I needed it.  I’d like to extend my humble thanks to The Universe.

It’s been eight days since I brought Bullygirl home and we are still adjusting to our revised lifestyle.  Read:  she hates me a little bit.  It’s no wonder, really- the doctor’s orders are that she must spend 99.9% of her time in her crate for the next several weeks.  She’s not allowed to romp, jump, play tug-of-war (her favorite game!) or use the stairs…ever again.

“It’s tough love,” the vet told me.  ”But it’s for the best.  You don’t want her to have a re-rupture.”

I most definitely do not want to invite any further problems for Bullygirl.  In fact, I already kind of blame myself for her predicament:  I never insisted that she walk nicely on her leash and for years, her neck has been stressed from all that pulling/jerking.  All of this has me thinking…

Love Means Discipline.

Obviously, this is something we all know on some level.  But sometimes we forget.  Sometimes we’re too selfish to perform the selfless act of loving another.  Sometimes, it’s easier to follow our momentary emotions, “go with the flow”, or ignore the present situation, than it is to consider the bigger picture and take a more responsible course of action.  At times, we’re all guilty of this.  While the topic is plaguing me, I thought I’d share some of my thoughts…

  • Love/Discipline means teaching a puppy to obey commands for his/her safety and your own sanity.
  • Love/Discipline means encouraging children of divorce to continue positive relationships with both parents.
  • Love/Discipline means maintaining one’s integrity in the relationship.
  • Love/Discipline means building a ramp instead of risking a re-rupture.
  • Love/Discipline means communicating, even when the subject matter is uncomfortable.
  • Love/Discipline means administering the yucky-tasting medication.
  • Love/Discipline means moving at the speed of the slowest person, so all stakeholders can appropriately adjust to changes in the family structure.
  • Love/Discipline means enforcing house rules even though you don’t see your children very often.
  • Love/Discipline means exhibiting respect for others, regardless of your relationship status.
  • Love/Discipline means taking little ones to the doctor (or the vet) for shots, despite their protests.
  • Love/Discipline means prioritizing.

“She’s so cute!” is never a good reason to do (or not do) anything.  I lacked the self-discipline to train Bullygirl for her own good.  I failed her and there was a price to pay for that.  I feel terrible.  Moving forward, I know better.  And I’m grateful for the opportunity to continue loving my four-legged companion.

Love means discipline.  I’ll add this to the list of other life/love lessons I’ve learned from my dogs… perhaps I’ll write about more of them another time.

Single Mom, Standing

Bullygirl had a medical crisis this week.  Monday morning she had terrible muscle spasms which caused her to scream in agony.  Her regular vet gave her injections of painkillers and Valium, neither of which provided relief.  As Bullygirl writhed in pain, Dr. G and I agreed that it was necessary for her to see a specialist, ASAP.

The closest and most recommended neurologist with an MRI machine was two hours away.  Following a highly stressful car ride, we arrived and were happy to discover large dog beds and water bowls in the waiting room.  The staff audibly marveled at the cuteness of my little girl.  I breathed a short sigh of relief, knowing I had come to the right place.

Following a physical examination, it was recommended that further testing be performed to find out what was causing the pain.  Because there were other dogs waiting for the MRI machine, it would be a couple hours before Bullygirl’s turn.  The techs took her in the back to let her rest and they turned me loose on the town.  I sent some text messages, made a phone call to Ex-Boyfriend to update him on the situation and then went to find lunch.

I slid into a booth at a well-known chain restaurant and paused for the first time that day.  My baby was in crisis, I was easily facing a five-figure financial obligation and I was alone.   My hands were shaking and my breath was shallow.  And yet… I noticed with curiosity that a cool current of calm was flowing beneath my fragile surface.  I sat still and continued to observe (my Buddhist therapist will be so proud of me!)…

The ego-self that lives in my mind was actively engaged in a role as The Wounded Victim.  It babbled continuously:  “Ex-BF should be here … We were his family! …How dare he cast us aside and replace us so easily? ….He said he loved us! …He hasn’t even offered to help… Friends and co-workers are more concerned than he is, and she was his dog! …. This is an emergency!  And he hardly cares at all…”

I was listening to that loop and staring at my coffee cup when it hit me.   The senseless chatter in my mind stopped abruptly as I was confronted with the firm declaration,

“He isn’t here because you don’t need him.”

I took a deep breath and sunk into that calmness under the surface.  There I observed no pity party, only the recognition of what was true at the moment:  Bullygirl is in good hands.  If I don’t have the money, I can get the money.  I’m her mommy and she needs me.  I’ve got this.

I relaxed a little, ate a good lunch and returned to the vet’s office.  Bullygirl’s MRI showed a severely herniated disk in her neck and the staff was dedicated enough to operate immediately (which meant they worked way past their scheduled quitting time).  I camped out in the waiting room until 8pm when they wheeled her out of the OR and I could see her.   As I drove home, exhausted, the radio gushed countless love songs in honor of Valentine’s Eve.  Each one of them reminded me of the devotion and loyalty between me and my dog.  As I pondered the difference between “love” and “affection,” I felt better than I had all day.

Bullygirl is home now.  She has a long road to recovery and we’ll need to make some permanent (and difficult) changes to our routines.  It’s going to be tough on both of us, yet I’m feeling quite capable at the moment.  …Oh, and it turns out I’m not alone.  Bullygirl and I were aided by a fabulously qualified and compassionate medical staff.  My friends and family have been hugely supportive- even offering to accompany me to the specialist’s facility.   My co-workers took up a collection to put towards the bill.  I am humbled and grateful beyond measure.

This event, terrible as it was, forced me to see what was important and to realize my own strength.  I think I’m done being a wounded woman.  Right now my little girl needs her mommy, and I’m standing at attention.

No, I’m Still Not Angry

People often suggest that I get- and stay- pissed.  It’s a common prescription for any separation:  if you find yourself displeased, disparage until you feel dignified.

But… y’all know I don’t buy into that.  I don’t want subsist on venom.  (Wouldn’t that make me poisonous?)   My goal here is to get better, not bitter.

Of course, I do experience moments of infuriation (like that day I was crying in the bathroom at work and I had an overwhelming urge to punch the wall).  And I’ll admit that I’ve indulged in some creative (and not-so-creative) name calling.  Overall, though, I’m not mad.  More frequently I feel:

  • Sad
  • Frustrated
  • Proud
  • Guilty
  • Empathetic
  • Liberated
  • Stupid
  • Empowered
  • Smart
  • Confused
  • Compassionate
  • Lost
  • Strong
  • Incomplete
  • Independent
  • Sad (yep…this is a biggie.  worthy of being listed twice!)

Anger flirts with me.  When it shows up, it dazzles me with its promises of power and righteousness.  It whispers in my ear, “You’re correct.  You’re justified…  Now c’mon, let’s have some fun together!”  Sometimes I want to pull it close and hold on.  Yet, I know better.  I know that anger only covers up those unpleasant emotions that I don’t want to deal with.  You know the ones I’m talking about?   The ones that evoke weakness and vulnerability- several of them are listed above.  I’m also aware that the list above contains happier feelings and, if I’m patient, eventually one of them will come along.  It’s not necessary to soothe myself with negativity.  I’ve said it before:  hating isn’t healing.

In order not to attach to anger, I’ve been employing a new trick:  replace animosity with curiosity.  This is rather easy for me to do because I have an obnoxiously incessant need to ask “Why?” all the time.  So…when I feel angry, I attempt to decode the situation.  I ask “why?” … if nobody can give me an answer, I form various hypotheses (as realistic as possible, considering all aspects of the situation and the human nature of those involved).  This allows me to view the issue from a perspective of humanity and compassion rather than contempt.  Understanding makes the reality easier to accept, regardless of whether or not I like the conclusions I come to.

Has anyone else tried this?  Or another method of avoiding the Anger Trap?  Or, are you one of those who believes that “anger is a gift”?  Let me know…