What Are We Waiting For?

April 16, 2020 (edited November 24, 2020)

I'm curiously observing the different ways people are taking in this quarantine. Some are loving the change in pace, the quality time with their family, the release of expectations. Others are having a difficult time with the new normal, missing the security of what they knew before, and overwhelmed by the new demands put on their life. But underneath it all, regardless of where we are each at, lies a sense of uncertainty for what the future looks like. We've all got it in sight. I hear expressions like 'when this blows over,' and when 'things go back to normal.' Beneath it all, however, there seems to be a consensus that things will different than what we knew before the Caronavirus hit. That a shift is happening that will alter the future into something different than the past we knew. And we all sit here, in the cue, waiting for that future to come. I've said it myself and I have heard it numerous times, I can't wait until this is all over. I can't wait until the world starts up again. Especially on those hard days, when we are overwhelmed by the fears, anxiety and overwhelm before us.

It hit me, the other day, how much time I, and many around me, spend waiting for the future. Not just now, but I have spent much of my life in this state. Always waiting for the next big thing, and when I had nothing to look forward to I would start to feel depressed. The realization of how much energy I spend on this makes me kind of sad. It makes me realize how much of now I am missing out on when my head is in the future or past, wishing for something different than what is in front of me. This grass is greener mentality is rarely satisfied, and when it is, it is fleeting. So when that time comes, we can only speculate what will be and no matter how miserable you feel in the current situation, there is no guarantee 'when this all blows over' that it will be any better. Will we just find other problems to obsess on? I tell you, I have been pretty darn good at that, especially when things are hard. Maybe there is a survival strategy in this, to maintain some kind of hope in getting through tough times. But I can't help but notice when it starts to take away from the appreciation of the now. If our lens is so focused on what's going wrong, and what we want that we don't have, what are we not seeing? As long as we are waiting for something different, I believe we will never really relish in the present moment, and if we spend a lifetime with this lens on, we never really gain or maintain an appreciation for the life we have. Because now is all that we really have, the past and future are only in our imaginations. And trust me, sometimes you need that imagination to get you through the day, but it is my hope that you don't spend most of your time there. Because I know as much as anyone the disappointment and depression that can manifest through this lens.

So what if we stopped talking about when this is all over? What if we were told the rest of life would remain as it is now? How does that change our realities? How does that change our daily life, the things we focus on, the current view? I can't help but wonder, would we do life differently? Would we notice the things we have to appreciate more? Would we be more present with our families? Would we start to focus on new opportunities, do more things we love, show more support and love to others. Wait...I see that happening already.

So, I propose to the world out there, rather than asking what we are waiting for, to a subtle rewording of what are we not waiting for?

Its funny how when options are taken away from us, others come into clear view. These options have always been there, but suddenly they are not camouflaged by the plethora of things that we previously used to define ourselves. Like the future. And public opinion. Now we are seeing ourselves differently. Have you noticed you forget to look in the mirror some days, or choose a completely different wardrobe when you dress for yourself as opposed to others? Have you noticed you have different expectations of yourself when you feel the world is not watching? It is a bit of a relief, isn't it, removing the expectation of who you think the world needs you to be, look like, do? It is here, that we start to connect with who we really are, beneath the public persona we put out there. I think this is important to notice. To pay attention to the comfort it brings you to choose according to yourself rather than someone else. This awareness in contrast allows us to see how far we remove ourselves from our authenticity to be seen a certain way, to fit in. And while, perhaps, there is a degree of our public persona that serves us, we can see how much it can take away from us too, from feeling comfortable and belonging. It is a hungry seeking that is never quite satisfied. Because the food we are feeding ourselves is made of cardboard, its not real. It'll never satisfy as long as we are eating cardboard. We will make up for it in ways we aren't aware of until we find out what the real food is. To know what it is like to provide what you are seeking for yourself. To bring on feelings of love through your connection with your own heart. To realize, with the right tools (you already have them), you have access to grace, compassion, love for yourself any time you need it, if you are willing. And to be in charge of validating yourself. Now that's security.

So we realize we have a choice. To keep waiting for the outer world to change so that we get the things we have, in attempt to gain some kind of control over it. Or to start unlocking and exploring what is inside of us, so we can see and make the most of what we already have. It's just a subtle shift in where we are looking. It really is that simple. Not easy, but it is simple, and incredibly rewarding to take your own power back. And when that happens you find your unshakeable.

So with that I ask, what are you not waiting for?

Choosing Grace

I am fueled with purpose! Here to give, receive, contribute to the important greater picture. I have so much to offer and my energy is contagious! Smiles come easily and generously. I engage genuinely with everyone I converse with. I am a powerful light filled force leaving a radiant energy in my path!

I knew I was swimming in it but I didn’t want to admit it. Being, feeling, accelerating felt too good to pass it up to a manic state, I wanted to own it as a success, a showing of the work I have been doing. Knowing all too well, however, that to take full ownership of this high meant very well that I would have to do the same for the low that would follow. But I kept it under the radar to a point. And any enthusiasms that burst out of me I allowed in moderation, I allowed them to drive me, my days and my interactions. I let them be a positive force in my days and hoped I wasn’t too much for anyone. Sluff it off as this is me, and if it’s too much for them, maybe that’s not my business. But I headed caution in wrapping my identity around the way I felt, as I had the sense that it was fleeting. I know the cycle, and life doesn’t get to feel this easeful all the time. So to just enjoy the current that has picked me up and carries me in the direction I wish to go. I sometimes leave interactions a little out of breath and aware that I did most of the talking, the expressing. Feeling a little questionable about what impression I may have made on them, that the out of control part of me slipped a bit. And again, I remind myself of the perfectly imperfection I humanly am, and just take advantage of the momentum fueling me and all that I am immersed in. Partly convinced that I will carry this momentum into new starts, partly aware of my limits, a cautionary whisper to give attention to boundaries.

Then the tell-signs start to leak in. Waking up feeling tired, blah. But find the thermal current and sail eventually, it just takes a bit into my day to find that familiar momentum. I keep up. Then I start to forget. Nothing specific, just random details, or what I scheduled for tomorrow, as if parts of my brain are covered with fuzzy static. Magnetic thoughts, the same go-to fantasies that bring me feelings of comfort in sad moments, and sad in comfortable moments. Losses, what-if’s, anywhere but here and now, drifting into alternate realities. Criticism find the microphone, assumptions of rejection and worst case scenarios. It is here when I am confronted with the reality of the sinking ship, slowly and steadily, but inevitable, seawater swirling around my ankles. I notice I start to avoid bedtime and sleep in. I pace in dissatisfaction of lack of productivity melded with muddy concentration. I ask my partner to repeat what he just told me, slower, as the words tangled as they enter my comprehension. The list that was created while in full power mode still applies, but I start to fall behind, as my ability to function at an optimal pace falters.

This is where it counts. What I do here will determine what’s next. I’ve been through this cycle so many times I know my options. There are two:

One.

I cling to the coulds and want-to’s, which have now transformed into shoulds and have-to’s so tightly my flame fizzles out, my flicker goes dark. I am in a cloud of sad. I bask in the shame that confirms the notion I am not good enough. I know this place well. There’s a security in it, in declaring victim status, a reason to bring out the invisibility cape and retreat. I look for all the ways I can identify with this state, claiming blame, claiming shame, claiming lame.I own it and assume irresponsibility all at once. I latch to the spiral that confirms my insignificance and isolate. Nobody understands me, I have nothing to offer, I am not worthy of being loved. Still I long to be saved. I wallow in the non-truths, the not-haves, the impossibles. I stay here a while, until things get bad in my marriage, or the kids start to change how they interact with me. Until something seemingly important enough finds a switch, and in the abrupt change of light I snap out of it, and start the treacherous climb back out. Only in surrendering to the force pushing me down do I start to drift into the pockets that have somehow dodged the current, and start to rise up. The less I push back the more naturally I float to the surface. I find air again. I start to breath again. I survive. I start to repair the holes in my raft, looking back trying to find traces of grace in what I just experienced.

Two.

My flame is smaller but still there and my most important job is to protect it from going out. So I shift in expectations, slow down and prioritize my needs. It changes dynamics in my relationships a little, but I know enough to know it is needed to ease through this. Shoulds and have-to’s are no longer in my vocabulary, or at least they are hushed. I pay cautious attention to what my heart is calling for, choosing to love to nurture the ache I feel inside over the expectation to nurture what I so easily took care of in my previous momentum. My boat needs less weight so I let some go. Relieve expectations, set aside my need to please, shift my focus inward enough to stay tuned into my environment. My attention is balanced between tending to my needs and hauling water out of my boat, managing safe levels for the time being, until I find the tools for greater repair. I rest when I feel the need to rest. I say no when I feel my energy sink at the thought of saying yes. I pay close attention to what weighs me down and what lifts me up moment to moment, responding accordingly and not taking hold of the strings the shame tries to hand over when I choose myself. I choose not to take company to those worth-crushing voices that call up to me, and laugh off their attempts. I know this game. I know what you are trying to do. Not fallin’ for it today, chum. Today I choose love and grace. I choose to define my worth innately, not how others may perceive me, not by the stories, nor how my level of functioning compares now to yesterday.

...

I notice something in option two, which is not as familiar to me. 

Moments of bliss. Moments of joy, mixed in between the sorrowful layers. And with these moments,a sort of permission in the letting go. In the un-identifying, un-judging. Permission to feel, to bounce between ups and downs beneath this overlaying cloud I normally call depression. But to let go of the label, is to release the grips of it. To let go of the depressed-not depressed duality mentality brings an allowance to feel the moment. Making room to move between sadness and joy in a moment’s notice.

This is OK?

When I am allowed to be what I am, there is no expectation to be anything else. Expectations released, judgement released, only leaving room for the grace of being, and feelings flow freely. No one more or less important than another when we remove the expectations; they just are,I just am.

And this IS OK!

A vessel opens inside of me and I can breath more easily, regardless of how I am perceived, regardless of circumstances, regardless of yesterday...regardless. A softening forming in my congested body. I find bliss even in sadness, comfort in acceptance, and full immersion in the moment of here and now. Even in the appearingly mundane surroundings, miracle hints through the fullness of presence. What I felt before and what I will feel later do not have to define what I feel now.

A brightening intelligence in me letting go of the security that ties me to the past and future imaginings, even finding thrills in the freedom of moving with such ease through the current current. Of letting go of the need for control, by reaching towards acceptance and trust. Acceptance of the now, trust in the here. Significance rises in this current state I find myself in, purpose in the slowing down, returning into myself.

Bliss accompanied by sorrow. Ha! It is all so curious, isn’t it? When you can let go of the world how you grew up to know, and open to something new in the flow. It turns out the significance isn’t out in those far away places from which I have retreated, but within arm’s reach any time I choose to choose.

I’'ll take option two, please.

To Log On or Off....Again

I'm so overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed by everything going on around me and everything going on within me. There really is no escaping from it. But maybe there are things I can do to lessen it. Sometimes I do that by not leaving my house, sometimes even not leaving my bed. I escape into fixes, some are healthy, others not. One in particular has been coming to battle in my conscience. I have been feeling an urge to get off social media again. But then the idea of it brings on panic. Which, probably, is the very reason I should log off. 

I have a lot of problems with social media and its play on our mental health, yet I am in there with a shirt as dirty as the next guy. I'm sort of aware of the ways I am being manipulated by the platform, and my consented participation (and refusal to read the fine print) is kind of an agreement to let myself be manipulated. But then I get a sense that I am not as aware as I think. So I am aware that I am unaware of many ways technology is making me mad. 

I've taken breaks from Facebook and I can say I have had no regrets in doing so. The only regrets I have are the ways I re-entered the scene just to get convincingly sucked back in and folded ever so neatly right back into those addictive patterns. I can't help but notice that part of this familiar cycle I am in, willingly manipulated by the algorithms of my phone. yuck. I suppose though, its like any addiction. Even through admittance, the 'it' still controls the joystick.

So I have myself, from an observer perspective, sitting here in my house, surrounded by my overwhelm, contemplating my next move. Do I quit Facebook? Panic. But all the what ifs! What if I need Facebook to sell my art or make connections? But what if I need a Facebook account to participate in this online course I am taking? But what if I am not in the loop? What if I miss out!? What if I get lonely? What if I have a RESPONSIBILITY to stay on for everyone who follows me (aaaaaaaaagh!)?

Ha! I know the thing making me most lonely is probably social media...and my sense of self, which some days hangs on the marionette strings of social media. 

(Meanwhile I ignore the subject of Instagram, because obviously Instagram is not a problem. Even though it is run by the same company. And probably uses the same manipulations. And likely does the same tricks to keep pulling me in. But no, Instagram isn't a problem.)

This what if anxiety or FOMO (fear of missing out) comes from the addiction, all this behaviour I choose to feed the addiction feeds the anxiety, a perpetual cycle so loud that it drowns out voice of the logic. So I know all this. I am subtly aware, yet I still choose it. At what point do I make myself accountable, and at what point do I take this accountability to make a change? I have taken on a victim role enough times in my life to know its limited capacity that confines me to its illusionary boundaries.

So what if I quit social media? It seems a little goofy this is even a blog-worthy topic, as my embarrassed fingers type this out. But I cannot deny how big a part of my life social media has become, so yes, I guess it kinda is. What if I replaced the time I spend scrolling with sketching....working towards a dream I have rather than escaping from it into my smartphone? What if I used that time learning a new joke from my 8 year old, or teaching my 10 year old to make a friendship bracelet, or building a lego truck with my son? What would I be missing? Or should I say, what wouldn't I be missing?

Zooming out on my life helps to put things into perspective. From a birds eye view, taking this here and now as a blip in time, allows me to see what is important . What will serve me and mine not just now, but down the road, and the bigger picture? It also helps with the overwhelm, suddenly down-playing all the important-seeming stuff around me on the ground I stand upon. Truthfully, at the end of my life this minor debate may not matter much. What will matter is that I did the best I could with what I had. And what I have now is choice, neither right or wrong, but each a gateway to separate paths. 

I close my eyes and tune in. I think about staying on Facebook. It's comfortable in an overwhelming kind of way. Perhaps the overwhelm is part of the addiction. It's familiar and what I currently know. Then I think about logging off. It's uncomfortable...but yet there's a sense of liberation in this prospect, a detachment of the strings on my will, a shift in focus. And when I listen a little deeper, there is a quiet yet resounding voice, undoubtedly saying, "do it."

anger, recalibration and trust

I've been 'managing' a lot of anger lately. It has been surfacing like its my job to learn how to manage it for the first time. Not driven by any one thing in particular, the triggers and targets of my expressions often happen to be what is in front of me at the time, mainly my family, and unfortunately typically undeserving to those around me. I understand there is an element here of adjusting to going off my meds, and although it has been a month since I have weaned off completely, I am still adjusting to the changes in emotional intensity that I experience. But I know the anger to be rooted more deeply and perhaps a congestion of much more than present circumstances. 

I recently became aware of how I shame and suppress anger, how it transforms into depression. This feels like a safer way to manage it, but I also now see the ways it does not benefit me. I envision it like a pop can. With anger it is crumbled but still a recognizable container, just distorted. In depression it is flattened from the top, so compressed that it has started to transform into something completely different, like a coin that has been run over by a train. They are both made up of the same elements, but take on very different forms, and whereas the crumbled can has much more presence and outward story, the flattened can almost disappears from the horizon.  It's presence is minimal and it no longer functions as it was originally meant to.

With this awareness of how I take anger and push it down into a form that has less impact on the world around me but more compacted within me when transformed, there is an automatic release. A closing of that valve and permission to let my freak-out flag fly. It is as if a cage inside me has been unlocked, the door opened, and the anger released to fly freely within me, and with out. It feels too soon, too fast. Whereas I have been given suggestions through counselling on ways to recognize and release this emotion in healthy ways, it still manages to gravitate the quickest exits, the holes that have already been carved and I find I am lashing out at those closest to me and taking on victim roles, rather than taking the steps to release it in a controlled way. I suppose this is often how I learn, mistaking, imperfection exposed, guilt, then correction. I have also been advised that this is a pattern and not the only choice (they say it doesn't have to be hard).

I could say it is because I have been 'quarantined' with my family and given a lack the space to navigate this without constant disruption. But I know better. I know this is a factor but not a cause. And I know I have the freedom to prioritize. I know I have tools to work with my emotions and accountability to hold up on my end. I have a growing compassionate relationship with myself that I choose to access or block. I see how the history plays in here, and this understanding has the potential to build rooms for each grace and victimhood. Again, my choice. I haven't quite found the lights in the room of grace yet. The victim room is one I know much better, and frankly, more familiar. My job is to stop going for quick access and comfortable if I want to change these patterns, and prevent new ones from digging their feet in.

And in this awareness I do see this happening. That door to the depression room is more often closed. I find myself less and less attracted to its colours. I wonder, is this what breaking up from depression looks like for me?

Maybe that is it. Maybe that is why it feels hard right now, as I am attempting to break the easy and comfortable habits and to forge an alternative path in my growth. Perhaps I need to give myself the grace in this adjustment period and lean on trust that I have it in me, over the guilt built into the stories I tell about how this is affecting those I feel responsible for. The challenge is to lean into the trust over what I have always known to be my (perceived) truth. To cut the stitches that bind me so tightly to the identity keeping me small and so close to the ground. To face the pain that I have pushed down to avoid, and learn in my resilience that it will never completely take me out. To trust the anger that I have avoided a relationship with most of my life. To trust that there is another side to this, and I that am on the right path.

A Consolidation with the Past

Some days, when the heavy fogs choke my view, I seek resolute in the vibrancy of the past. Of those colour-shifting moments, which defined, so conceivably, what life was like before and what life is like after. Such as those five days that took place almost twenty years ago, conversations that reached depths I had never experienced before. A little retreat of the imagination, an attempt to makes something out of the lasting friendship that almost began. There's a sacredness, in which I desperately hold onto and seek solace, that belongs to this first-of-its-kind soul connection, one that I was told was not okay to keep in the context of my life. I had put it away in the back pocket of my heart, out of sight, coated in shame, wedged between right and wrong. It was only more than a decade later, through new before-and-after defining moments, that I unlocked the door to its cage to let truth in and pain out, did the narrative begin to alter. Through the example of another love lost, and I began to see it for the depth it possess rather than through the tint of my faults. As I navigate my way back to truth, under the guidance of my soul, the lenses begin to drop. I come back to the past with a clearer view. The longing that has been seeking refuge is finding its home in acceptance, and resolve in Truth.

Tomorrow

About a year ago, in a moment of unshakable confidence I made a decision to book my first solo art exhibit. I had only sold a handful of paintings in my life, and only one completed painting in my collection. But it just felt absolutely right and undoubtedly doable. Three weeks later my moods took a swan dive into murky depths and the reality of this commitment started to anchor me down. It felt a lot bigger than me. Which I suppose was the culprit of the anxiety behind the pressure, but also, I later found out, a grounding force with a greater intention in mind. Because when I commit to something, my word sticks. It kept me consistently creating throughout the year, and I learnt the powerful therapeutic benefits of time dedicated to creation throughout all my highs and lows. Once acquainted, when I became alone with the paint and canvas, I zoned into the present moment in which all the things outside my door no longer had a say.

It wasn't all a free flow of rainbows. I struggled at times in creative rut, and I learnt that those times were not for making good art, but for free play - experimentation and outlet of expression. Other times I persisted through stubborn works until I came out on top. While some paintings flowed and came together within a few hours, others took months of fiddling with  until, at some point, deemed 'good enough to call done' and acceptance that it was time to move on. And then others never got finished, painted over, or completely transformed into something foreign from the original intention. Much like a few of my troubled relationships over that time, some were meant to fight for and others were meant to be valued as teachers. For the ones I had to put away I learnt to value the time spent with them, the roles they played for the time they were in my life, and the lessons that came from them. The paintings too.

Although made in the peak of a high cycle, this decision turned out to be among the most grounding of all my choices. It kept me accountable and taught me so much. It became the reason I didn't take on so many other projects, preventing over-commitment in those creativity surges that taunt me every so often. When everything felt so out of control, my studio became my safe place, and painting became the one thing that belonged to me and only me, nobody could take that from me.  Completing paintings was a constant exercise in the confronting perfectionism. No painting is perfect. I will pick out flaws in every single one of my works. But I knew if I aimed for perfection, I would never be done. And I wouldn't have a single completed piece to hang in my show. An exercise in letting go.

Art-making has helped me build a relationship with my intuition. In life, trust in my inner guide has been a big barrier to really knowing myself. Throw anxiety and ego in there and it can be hard to decipher. When you lose touch with that voice you lose direction. You live according to others rules and you spend most of your time searching for purpose, happiness, and validation. It is an unstable thing to rely on others to guide you. Listening to my inner voice has become a major part of my growth, but I sometimes struggle to hear it, and often do not trust it. Building this trust has taken me through some pretty major trials this past year, through both loss and gain, and I can honestly say very much a work in progress.  But in practicing this trust in safe spaces, such as through my art, has been very affirming. You see, if you try to make art with the sole intention of meeting specific expectations, creativity is stunted. For me it doesn't even wiggle. Knowing this I've had to work at creating intuitively and trust that the outcome will suffice. It is the artwork that I was able to immerse myself fully in process that I believe are my best works, my most expressive and the ones that bring out the deepest emotional reactions from the viewers. Recognizing the more I trust my decisions, through my heart rather than my head, the better my art becomes, the more powerful and in line with my vision it becomes.

Making my show a reality has been one of the biggest confidence boosts I've had in a long time. Since hanging my work in the gallery it has created a new energy that has propelled me through the month. For the first time in about three years I find myself craving physical exercise, trying new recipes, and getting more involved in community projects. I've been reacquainted with that vaguely familiar desire to venture beyond my comfort zone. My relationships are flowing, and I have never felt more supported by the people around me. I still have my challenges, mood cycles, grief, checked out days, battles with perfectionism, anxiety, and chronic pain...to name a few...but I somehow move through it all so differently. I would say the good days, even when I'm low, outlast the bad ones. These have been the toughest few years of my life. Yet I feel more fulfilled and in tune with myself than ever.

Tomorrow is my exhibit reception. People have been asking me all day how I feel about it and expressing their excitement in the shared anticipation. I've spent the day only finding half my breath. Perfectionism is whispering all the things I would like to do before tomorrow, paralyzing me into non-action. Countered by a voice telling me to trust in universe, the day will go as it is exactly meant to be and it will be great. Anxiety has me overwhelmed simply by the thought of being the center of attention in a packed venue of people who know me (perhaps a little more once they see my art). Excitement walks along its side in anticipation of the atmosphere that will be created through the collective energy of all the great people who choose to be there. So many feels, I've been unable to stay on top of the tension building up in my body. But ultimately, regardless of what I do between now and then, tomorrow will come and and tomorrow will go. And if I have learnt anything in this journey, it is the value of presence. To release the claws of all the fears and expectations and to just  soak it in, every last drop. To value all parts of this experience, allowing myself to feel worthy of the joys of accomplishment, finding light in the challenge of making it through. To experience the offering I have created for others, and to celebrate all the support I have received along the way. Tomorrow feels like a big deal, as a mark in this pivotal period in my life, hard proof of the trust I have built with myself and others, and encouragement for what I move towards in the future.