Tendrils of fear

I'm frustrated. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I am displeased with it's current condition and it seeks its revenge with hot, itchy welts. Fueled by heat and anxiety my body becomes my enemy. We are not one. My mind contrives. Keeps me reeling, looking for distractions to avoid my feelings. Walking through mud, lost without a map, but a calm center waiting for her pieces to quit it with their tantrums.

I know I keep it in. Bottle it up with only a slight pressure valve to prevent utter explosion. I suffer to my own coping skills. This is not working. And this is the second time my writing has interrupted my plans. Twice now something has come over me. An unavoidable compulsion to express. Although not unusual in the sense that my writing pattern consists of mostly silent suffering with a mask of composure and optimism (all of which I truly desire, hence why I practice). But then it all begins to crumble. I sit in the rubble, itchy and annoyed, wanting to communicate my feelings to someone. but not finding the words or eloquence  when speaking. It comes out like rambling from a resident of Babel. My mind freezes and stutters when confronted with interpersonal communication focused on me. I'm sure it has something to do with low self esteem, blah blah. Logically I know the workings of my being, but it doesn't make it any easier to make the positive changes I want. Even though the tendrils of fear run deep

...that's where it ended - abruptly. I've had this saved for a month now in drafts. I've been holding on to it. I let it go.

Life has too much paperwork

I think so much it's hard to begin. I plan for the future with optimistic intentions. Laying our familial foundation. Groundwork for our life together as partners, and lovers. I desire to start a family to the center of my being. It infiltrates my dreams. I dream of pregnancy, motherhood and breastfeeding, and usually connected with a sense of unpreparedness. Oh my god, the baby is 6 months old and we have no supplies, no car seat, maybe a few diapers. Well, at least I can make food.

I dream of Josh frequently as well. Over the years he has truly become the man of my dreams. He's the main subject of my sexual conquests in my ethereal adventures. Who knew? And yet, even with all this yearning for baby making and family building business, I enjoy EVERY moment of my individual freedom while it lasts. I appreciate every morning I sleep in til 11am. I revel in any opportunity to blow off responsibility in lieu of more entertaining endeavors. Like cleaning for instance. I will have no problem one day paying someone to help me keep a clean house, because I fully admit my dislike of deep cleaning.

My mind was just wandering. New updates to my mental programming reminded me of balance and discipline. We can't live in pure indulgence at all times. It's what leads to excess, idleness, and clouded vision. All the more reason to enjoy my laziness and entertainment seeking lifestyle, right? Probably not. It won't last much longer. Change is always happening, and I'm looking forward to mind. Now to make it happen.

Grumble grumble health insurance. Grumble grumble taxes. Life has too much paperwork.

Bills and undone dishes

Breathe. Like most others my mind chatters constantly, like an unwanted narrator, creating dialogue and descriptions for future expressions, but when it comes time to let it out it freezes. I see my mind looking around it's figurative room, waiting for someone else to speak up.

Here is the spotlight, Buddy, your stage and yet you contribute nothing! What was all that talking and planning if you're just going to stand there. Oh right, right, you don't like attention. Any sort of awareness of your incessant existence and you're all mum. Thanks for nothing, you metaphorical douchebag.

Guess I'm on my own. Fear aside and presence in check, I shall begin.

And I shall begin. Okay, really now. Nothing? Blank? Why does my mind insist on being shy? It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Plenty of people experience post-vacation depression. So many observations and moments that it feels a bit difficult to pick just one. Do I discuss the lack of social responsibility when it comes to helping others due to our desensitization as a result of abuse of kindness? Or the strong hold that vices, distractions, and the like, have on society in order to avoid any sort of attention to personal feelings and the resolution of them?

I've learned it can be hard returning home from getaways. From the serene and peaceful working getaway at Big Bear, to the frenetic and indulgent buzz in Vegas. And now home - full of bills and undone dishes. Shit, I still need to vacuum. Angst and frustration welcomed me home. Avoidance was the initial defense, with a modicum of action to rectify the mess that was left prior to departure. I feel the whirling cycle of depression gain momentum; I'm aware of it. And now...how to curtail? How do I plant myself in stability and kindness during an overwhelming period of life? Breathe, right? Complete one task at a time. Breathe.

Okay, good start. Tomorrow I talk about Big Bear, CA. But for now...



Peace, Man!

Live in Love

So here I am. Putting pen to paper. Good ol' follow through triumphant once again. A vow taken and acted upon, even if just for a few moments. Daily writing as practice, stretching the creative and observant muscle. Never knowing what to expect when I show up for one of these things. My mind usually has a game plan set. An outline, if you will, of the narrations it comes up with when observing my life. Aahhh, my own personal play by play of comments, unsolicited advise, and interpretations. The mind has been practicing how to share my recent experiences.

However, when it's time to spill the ink something else takes over. Flow perhaps. I try to keep my perspective real, not contrived by drama prone chatty Cathy in my head. So I sit, poised and ready, warming up my hand and opening my mind to whatever it is that wants to come out.

I showed up for my job, now I'm waiting for creativity. Or was it inspiration? I forget which one made the appointment with me last night in bed. They didn't leave a card, just a request for action.

Action. That's a good coping skill. I've been thinking a lot about coping for what feels like nonstop. Coping skills. It's a strength that I recognize is not widely taught between families, particularly in those that never learned positive ones. I notice it everywhere, in almost everyone. Avoidance. Blame. Transference. Life sucks sometimes, that will never change, but how you deal with it makes all the difference in one's happiness.

I had to pause there for a few minutes because I felt the beginning of a depressing rant slide, and I don't feel like going into the darkness right now.

What I feel is if we all could learn to have a more optimistic outlook, realize the impermanence of everything, and be more pro-active in the construction of our lives, then the human race will be more prepared to exist without hurting each other, or themselves. It's okay to ask for help. You are not an island. And if you are an island then find yourself a boat maker so they can bring plenty of others to make you the best island you can be. The need for teachers does not end when we leave the confines of classrooms. It is our duty as people to continue learning. It never stops. Learn how to live in love and you will live in peace.

"There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way." - Buddha

Free and Equal Socks

I wear mismatched socks.

It began two years ago, this October, under very intentional conditions. I began wondering to myself one day why I, personally, wear matching socks all the time. Do I do it because that's the way it is, or because they come paired already and it's convenient? But what if you lose one, or one wears a little quicker than the other. Now you have an orphan on your hands and instead of dealing with the emotions of an orphaned sock we throw it out in the trash. We punish good socks for being more resilient than it's partner. Shame. And somewhat wasteful if you ask me.

So I decided that I will not let society dictate how I protect my feet from abrasive surfaces and temperature. I freed my socks that day in October. They were allowed to live as one community, existing as equal foot wear. Little did I know that this simple act of consciously matching ones socks would lead to a small pleasure that only I share.

Naturally, as time progressed I governed that box of socks and created criteria and personal preference in the expression of cotton protection. There is now a system in place that is efficient and fool proof. Mismatched, but similar because I want them to be, not because that's what everyone else is doing. I hate to admit that in the beginning of administration much time was spent deciding that day's pairing. I think I was late to work once because I was having difficulty deciding which two to put together.

I know I'm not alone in this. I know several other people that choose to don mismatched socks, for their individual reasons of course. But I am aware of it, and I still like to play a little.

Carry a Flashlight

I understand the seeds that hold the potential to spawn abuses. It can begin as a slight frustration, possibly stemmed from a sense of lack of control over someone or something. Resentment makes itself comfortable. Mental loathing acts like cogs in your mind. Always running, self perpetuating, polluting thoughts. It won't take much to push you over the edge. A normal, nothing-out-of-the-usual, incident releases the impulse to lash out physically and inflict pain onto the source of which you recognize as the epicenter to your pain. Sometimes we'll do anything to regain a semblance of control, fear based albeit.

I used to think there was something wrong with me because I had dark, horrifying thoughts. And it conflicted with my good nature, creating confusion and doubt in myself and who I thought I was. Luckily science has taught me about the amygdala, which controls our impulses to feed, fornicate, flee, and fight. And gratefully we have our prefrontal cortex, which allows us to analyze the situation. So I choose not to kick the dog for eating shit off the ground for the hundredth time this week, even though I tell her not to in ways I know she understands. I breathe and tell myself, "She's a dog. It's what she does.".

I have considered several alternative explanations to the darkness in me. Perhaps some sort of abuse occurred in my developmental years, during childhood amnesia. The mind has no retrievable memories, but there are sensible imprints, and the circuitry of the brain was influenced. I feel as if I've been infected. Inflicted with a faceless burden. And this is something I'm learning to overcome. Dark thoughts are not indicative of malicious behavior, and it doesn't mean you're a bad person.  This is what I have learned for myself at least.

I have darkness in me, but I carry a flashlight.

Dear God: A Petition

I've been reading Eat, Pray, Love the last few days and it has inspired me to write my own petition to God, and I felt compelled to share it with anyone that is interested. If you would like to sign my petition, please sign it with your heart and thank you for your support in my life's intentions. This is straight from my journal - no editing. This is my heart. Be gentle.

Dear God,

First of all, thank you for hearing me out and considering my wishes for my life and the ones I love. I'm beginning to realize that I have a say in my life and I dare to imagine all I want while here in this Earth. Great job, by the way, on the spectacular beauty and balance you have created here. I'm sorry mankind is messing it up. I hope we can resolve our issues soon in order to live peacefully and harmoniously with our home.

I already feel like I'm on the right path, but I want to be clear with my intentions. I wish to know you. Intimately. I wish to know you and live happily and peacefully. I choose to live freely and joyously, without constraints like fear and finances. I want to enjoy the splendor of your creation and see it with my own eyes. Josh and I have passports and we're ready to use them. I want to marvel at manmade constructions and commune with nature. I want to show our children the glorious world we live on.

I want Josh to make the films he desires to create. He needs to be a Director. Such imagination he possesses. Let this genius create with no limitations. I think he'll do you proud. I look forward to experiencing Josh's career, and witnessing his visions come to life.

I want to be a writer full time and live in abundance. I want a secure and positive environment to live and work in. I want you to work through me. Help me figure out, or be open to receive, my ultimate purpose. How can I help contribute to the betterment of society? How can I help others, and myself, experience this shift of consciousness? Show me, and provide for me, and I will do it. I'll teach it by example. I will lead by example. I will live it and be the example. I'm ready for the next step. I anticipate someone coming into my life to help me begin a healthy lifestyle. Thank you in advance.

Peace and Blessings to all my friends and family - past, present, and future. May I access all of my potential and realize it.

All my love and gratitude,

Nicolina Weathersby