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Feeling Your Pain Versus Being Your Pain

Since being a mother, I’ve had many “growth opportunities” to rethink how I express how I’m feeling about myself or my children. These are called AFGOs (another fabulous growth opportunity). Today, instead of yelling at and being impatient with my daughter for crying again for the umpteenth time about her pain which I perceived as nothing , I chose compassion instead.

Honestly, I tend to shut her down sometimes in expressing her feelings because I’m not allowed to. I am often blindly uncompassionate for myself. And her pity parties are so exhausting but she’s four and that’s what it is.Feeling Your Pain Versus Being Your Pain on Shalavee.com

When Fiona takes it to the next annoying level where she seems to draw her real identity from her “boo-boo”, it’s worse. She’ll milk injuries for drama-filled days and it’s truly annoying. Baths are miserable as even the thought of getting the boo-boo wet will throw her into shrieking fits of anticipated pain. My bathing duties are just too hard then.

So the other day, when I saw we were headed into a series of fits and drama over a perceived boo-boo, and that my usual tactics of “knock it off or else” were again not going to work, I shifted. I asked her if she thought her boo-boo made her more special and she said “Yes”. And then I slyly refuted that theory by explaining that her boo-boo wasn’t as exciting as how good she could write her name and set the table and make up cool songs. Feeling Your Pain Versus Being Your Pain on Shalavee.com

And I probably went on to say how all the people who loved her knew she had these marvelous talents too. And you wanna know how quickly that boo-boo didn’t hurt anymore? I shifted from fearing she might be someone who’d cut herself just to prove she was alive to gladly seeing her back as a normal little 4-year-old whose boo-boo suddenly wasn’t so bad after all. I just had to out think myself.

It seems a cautionary tale too about how we can be so used to an injury or a mental trauma from our childhood, that it becomes who we are. I recently outed myself for this very scenario using the past as an excuse to keep me from fulfilling my potential. If we over-identify with our pain, we become the pain. And I’d like to be a person who’s mending from my injuries, not someone who’s stuck a victim state for which nothing will ever make it better.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

That I Matter is a Matter of Fact

Such a search my life has been to find my form in the reflections I catch. I was invisible for so many years. And it occurred to me that we matter to our people as children and that makes us matter to ourselves. That our existence is a given and necessary to our family worlds as children to expand our confidence of purpose into the larger world. Except when that doesn’t happen.

I struggled to pretend I mattered for a very long time. I had purpose in the survival of the struggle but I did not consider my existence important to the world. I drowned in my fears and sorrows and probably didn’t have much to give anyway. My worthlessness was what I understood of my existence. The void where I should have mattered was very very raw. My mirror image was missing.

But then I had children. And realized that my attention to them was how they know they matter. And I recognized that my invisibility could only serve to teach to them the same and so I’ve struggled to be someone they see themselves in and not a shadow. I stand up to their demands and prioritize myself so that they may see what mattering means. I stay in the moment even when I’d rather be somewhere else. Because I need them to know they matter.

That I Matter is a Matter of Fact on Shalavee.com

Had these lyrics in my head from the General Public song, A Matter of Fact from the All The Rage album released in 1984 (I was 18) .

As a Matter of Fact by General Public

Someone’s been lying in my bed
Roses to start with
But now nothing in the garden grows
It’s all the same yes
But it’s not the person I know
No no no
Roses to start with
But as a matter of fact
It’s no more than an act

What’s the matter
What’s the matter
As a matter of fact?
Matter of fact
Hopping mad it’s as simple as that

What’s the matter
What’s the matter
As a matter of fact?
Matter of fact?

It’s a matter of order
It’s a matter of class
First to get told
Are the last to get asked
Just mind your ass
When the buck gets passed
Mind over matter
As a matter of fact
It’s a matter of class
As a matter of fact
The cards are stacked

 

 

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Letting Go of the People I Thought I Might Have Been

Why do I have this box of stuff in the attic?”, I wonder. This questionable box has been there so long that it’s developed the dreaded force field. The box, because of its longevity in this spot, has now become a given and almost invisible. Except when I ask, “Why do I have this box of stuff in the attic?”.

I realized the answer is quite simple. This box of stuff reflects who I was at one point. This stuff reflected what I was creating or what I found important at that moment. And it’s as if I have been frozen in time at that one moment. It’s an archaeological excavation into my past. But it’s also a cinder block on my path. Because all these accumulated boxes in my attic, closets, basement, and garage, all amount to a huge pile of stuff that no longer reflects the true me today.

The trick is…I must think about what I am now. And that seems like more effort than it’s worth.

Or is It?

Letting go of the people I thought I might have been on Shalavee.com

How do I know who I think I am unless I take the time to tell myself? How do I know what my goals are or what makes me happy if I don’t take a moment to stop and consider my feelings and thoughts on any of these subjects? And especially, who do I think I am?

It occurs to me that what seems like a lot of work, talking and writing and figuring out who you are and what you’re interested in doing, is exactly the work that will make everything else easier to do. Decide once and then all other questions are answered.

Letting go of the people I thought I might have been on Shalavee.com

Trick is trusting yourself with the decision of who you are and what you want. If you are used to being told what to do all you were used to being told what to do all your life or are on autopilot, it takes a tremendous effort to reconsider who you do and don’t want to be from now on.

But there’s no other way to go ahead. So I am pulling my sleeves up and deciding who I don’t want to be any more, as well as who I do. Ditching the once conceived notions of myself that no longer fit me. And looking to be inspired to stepping into the shoes of the person I’m excited to be and see what happens next.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Childhood Injury Causes Debilitating Doubt

What you are about to read for the next few days of posts is the story I have just lived which transpired this Summer, 2017. I began to tell this story when I wrote Catching up and Telling the Truth . This post referring to my childhood was the most painful because I wrote it during the doubt storm. And as you read the next few posts, you will see how I am processing, what happened, and how I’m making use of the worst of moments to make the better ones come.

I was injured as a child. Not the sort of injury you’d necessarily see but one that has left me debilitated in ways that I feel today. At this very moment. In my soul. I am unworthy of the world and this is an overwhelming wound to heal.

 

It is true that I have come an immense distance in elevating my self-esteem from a pretty low place. A place where I allowed others to treat me like poop on their shoes. Depending on the day, I struggle with some of the simplest acts of validation. And I can’t always fake my way through. And I do not feel I have moved on at all.Childhood Injury Causes Debilitating Doubt on Shalavee.com

 

I have a struggle to see myself as I truly am. I always see what I don’t know and what I haven’t achieved. And thus, I don’t feel I have the authority to tell anyone anything if I am still here struggling. But maybe humanity is begging for us to just be human again.

 

Maybe most of us just want the truth, no matter how ugly it is. We just want to know that other people struggle so our struggle isn’t as much of a big deal. So I am here talking myself down off the ledge I’m teetering on yet again and these are the truths I came up with today.

 

I have knowledge that I have gained which has moved me on considerably in my life. I am not anxiety free but I am 75% there.

 

The truths that I have discovered for myself may be of help to others.

 

I want to find purpose. I do not care about making money. However, if charging something for what I know makes it seem more valuable so that people may actually use it, I would be amenable to asking for compensation.

 

Other people’s sharing of their knowledge has no reflection on my knowledge and worth. They do not deserve my judgement for marching to their own beats. And whether you call yourself a life coach or not doesn’t matter if you can genuinely help people and want to help them. Neither the title or the training legitimizes a person’s work.Childhood Injury Causes Debilitating Doubt

 

I have no clue what I ultimately want to do in my life. Every time I think I might have sorted it out, I question my motives, my knowledge, my to do list, and my fears come in to shut me down again.

 

So I’ve decided to give myself permission to not know this week. I’m literally writing myself a permission slip that says I have the right to not know what I want from my life. And it’s effective this week especially as it’s Summer vacation and I want to be able to enjoy my expensive two night stay at the beach with the peace of mind of knowing , I don’t have to know.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

 

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On Happy Endings

I really have no expertise when it comes to happy endings. Miserable endings I could script out perfectly for you though. So when it was suddenly clear to me as a new parent that I was responsible for shading the outlook of the world for my children. When interpreting what they see in movies or read in books, I was responsible for translating the foreshadowing and inferences that would clue my children in to the upcoming plot twists. Life itself needs interpretation for us to decide how it’s going. I knew there were some storytelling rules that I needed to lay down for them.On happy endings on Shalavee.com

The number one rule is that there will always be happy endings in everything I allow them to see. How quickly I realized as I watched my first toddler that he was so susceptible to the change in music and feeling of the videos we were watching. And that it was up to me to protect him and make him feel safe. My sister tells the story about how she was traumatized by watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer when she was small. I explained to my son that I would never allow for him to be ambushed by a story gone wrong. And when Fiona was beginning to watch Friday night movies with us, I explained the same to her.

This concept has alerted me to how even the world news, easily seen by the children of families who feel news is acceptable to broadcast without censoring, can be very jarring to them. I filter it out because even I have been jarred by it. And this is how we grew up. Today, the more scintillating news and tv sells the advertisement spots. Because when we forget the television and film industry is for profit, we forget to guard ourselves.On happy endings on Shalavee.com

My generation grew up thinking there were no happy endings. And yet we crave them more than anything. We’ve seen more strife and believe that this is the norm. We were robbed of the happy safe bubble I am trying to give my children. Because eventually and inevitably, they’ll come to understand that yes, there is strife and inequality. But that’s all in good time. It’s up to us to decide how un-sucky their childhoods are before they get to the age of reason.

I have had to create a new space in my head for the possibilities of happiness that I never had before. It’s a type of faith to assume that even though you’ve never felt it and lived it, it still may be possible. I have had a week’s plus worth of days where events went smoothly without crisis and full of kindness and fun with my family. I very intentionally molded those days as such based on a hunch that this was a possible way of living, of being happy. And my hunch was correct. 20 years ago, I might have said that sounded nice but I wouldn’t have believed it was possible. Today I can say it is. And that is happy ending enough.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

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