Why do you get out of bed every morning? To go to work? You think, “Life i is about working and then, someday I’ll die.” Are you living to go to school? Perhaps a student for life, the best is to gather and gather. A klepto of information. Ma skzwybe you live, instead, to stay home and not leave. That can be worth it. Leaving home feels like going to one’s death for many, in fact, with anxiety.
Is what you are living for, worth “living for?” Why didn’t you kill yourself last night?m I’m not asking for “13 Reasons” or glamorizing suicide in any way, like it ois, unfortunately, being done in the media these days. I’m just asking. (Straight face. Eye contact.) Why?
Suicide is increasing, this year up by ~30%. It’s sad but I’ve heard the ignorant say, “When our world is being overrun by humans, this is just one more way to improve population management.” Why anyone would say that, let alone to a psychiatrist, speaks toward the unfortunate person saying it more than anything. Even so, these are the people that contribute to our cultural stigma and sentiment, like the wrong colloid for growth. This stigma is best diminished by peer-to-peer influence. Your voice; you speaking up is the painting over the foul-language graffiti. You speaking of your own journey with suicidality or any related diseases changes the ignorance into empathic knowledge.
We are in the mental health equivalent to the industrial revolution. Fortune. We are wealthy in mental health treatment options. Bling! Bling! It wasn’t too long ago when we were trusting depression medical therapies to crude agents bulky, and bluntly stunning our neuroreceptors. These were a big stick coming down on a flower.
Think of the cart and horse transforming into the automobile; course into sleek and refined; slowly moving and grossly impacting changes, contemporarily working rather as specific rapid responses. Now remember your parent, or mine, who never had the opportunity to receive a treatment that would work in a matter of weeks, and without turning her/him into a zombie-blimp.
A child stands there going through his own vasovagal experience, scared and confused while watching his favorite person in the whole world performing like a broken toy. The child tries to make sense and restabilize their once clarified existence. The parent goes through this at first for about six months and then somehow “gets better.” Was it the prayer that worked? Was Momma finally able to “pull through it?” Was it because the child’s behavior finally became “good enough” to please God who then condescended to make his momma better? Momma does well for another 2 years. She’s connected. She’s filled with purpose. The memory turns into something like, “Boston’s worst winter in fourteen years;” briefly print-worthy and then thankfully, not much more.
Then momma is again dark, hopeless and staying in bed whenever she can. The child, Teddy, is now a preteen of ten. This comes back, like finding another letter from his cheating dad’s girlfriend under a magazine in the back of the closet where his golf clubs are. And instead of six months, Momma’s change lasts about two years. (Can we even call it a “change” when it lasts two years?)
The amorphic improvement comes again though, like a miracle, but who can trust it. Miracles aren’t gotten in vending machines after all. I We can’t buy them with a paycheck.
Sadly, as Teddy feared, another some many months later, Momma drops again. This time she plummets rather than drops, into a drunken, more terrible condition. For longer, and the boy is now a teen. He at first appears more calloused. Yet, if questioned, he will show his grief and bewildered young self, just there behind a gentle touch, or a cluster of inquiring kind words. He loves her well. Why can’t she love him? Moms who love their kids will get up in the morning. They’ll shower and they’ll talk. They don’t write suicide notes or leave their son’s to find them half conscious when they get home from school. Not mom’s who love their kids.
Our moms, yours and mine in the seventies, didn’t have the privilege of taking treatments that worked or worked well, and rapidly. We are so blessed. How to grasp the immense difference in our Age; this Age of mental health revolution.
Now a little boy sees this change in his favorite person in the world. She is fortunate enough to receive medical treatment, and within weeks is “back to myself again.” This little family escaped years of decomposition by the ravaging damages from brain illness.
My grandma, Elsie Louise, (isn’t that a great name!), was washing her laundry in a new machine that decreased her labor by many hours. One day, when she was daydreaming about her young handsome husband, or maybe it was the chicken she lost to the fox, when she screamed, jerking out from a terrible pain in her hand. Her fourth finger was gone. She lost it, pulled off by the twisting force of the machine’s internal grips.
Now we place our laundry in a closed lidded box we just walk away from. We don’t even think about the appendages we are allowed to retain. We don’t imagine the privilege.
In psychiatry, it is like this. The treatments we had generations past were better than none. But, enter now into 2018, and we don’t realize how good we have it. We forgot most of the print-worthy stories back then. Not to use the treatments from this revolution, is going back to the darker ages of medicine. The treatments save lives. They bless. They make us rich in life. Bling! Bling! Look at your wealthy character. Healthy.
Why are you still alive? Whatever you answer, fight for that. Take advantage of the mental health revolution and live well.
Questions: What are some stories of those you have loved who missed out on mental health treatment? What are some stories of those who did not? Where is the difference?
Self-care tip: Speak! We need to hear you. You are painting over the foul-language graffiti of ignorance!
As there are so many views on what “God” means, and because that’s not what we want to debate here, we have a useful premise.
God exists.God is personal.
Nor is our purpose to worry over the function of religion, to roll between index and thumb the business relationship between us and God, nor to tidy up the religious wars between our nations.
The purpose here is to discuss how to be a better friend to Me, in the context of the premise, God is and God is personal to Me.
If God is, then He is personal. Otherwise, there is no point to God, as far as you and I are concerned.
Question: How do we treat ourselves well in the context that God is personal to Me? If God exists and isn’t personal, what is the point of Him? How does working under the premise that God is and God is personal improve the way you care for yourself? Please speak out. We need you.
Self-care Tip: Accept that God is and is personal to you and keep on.
When in the exam room, we do not want it to be about the physician. However many of us don’t want it to be about the patient.
Some of us want it to be about the system, whatever system we are in, so that the system can run as smoothly as possible and get all our protocols met. Are we are making physician-robots? We isolate them and ourselves. There is a pressure when working in a system to sequester the physicians, such as wizards from the Muggles.
As physicians, we care better for our patients when we realize what we are getting out of the relationship. We give much better when we know what we are hoping to get and perhaps hoping not to get. We give better even with medical care. Is it comforting to think that when it is medical, it is objective, about data? More safe, perhaps. However, this binary logic, is false. We do not practice in such. We practice in a place where people smile and cry and bond and connect and receive from us and give to us. When we practice, it is personal. It is obvious that it is professional. The delusion is that professional is an either/or condition. Either professional or personal. Not both. Never both. That is a buttered wall to grip before sliding into patient doctor sexual relations. Sneeze.
There is a term called, Grace, you may have heard of. Grace is the condition of receiving without purchase. Having been gifted and celebrating in the gift without qualifying it. Perhaps getting a great review from a patient on-line you are expected to respond to, and just saying, “Thank you.” We have a hard time with this in our world. “Getting” well.
I struggle with “getting.” I cannot describe yet how to get well. How to receive. When a patient gives to me, I struggle not to qualify what I am getting in the same way I qualify taking a trip to Hawaii, “Oh, I’m going to a medical conference.” Or, “Look at this new patio set I got from Home Depot! It was totally on sale. I got a great deal.”
In practicing medicine, we need to grow to an acceptance of what we receive, and receive with Grace.
I am sure being a patient is better when we realize what we are getting from the exchange too. We get more, or perhaps differently, than what the insurance and copay gives purchase to. I hope the patient-doctor relationship is more than what can be had on the street of a Turkish bazaar.
Question: What are you getting from your patient-doctor relationship? What is your clinician getting from you? How can you receive with Grace? Does this affect your accountability to yourself? Is this an act of friendship to Me? Please tell us your story.
Marrying for security is like bombing for peace. It was not too long after saying this when Amy told me she had been served divorce papers. She had been seeing me for several years. In that time, we had worked through her most recent episode of major depressive disorders and a debilitating anxiety. She had done marvelous. Courageously fought for her own health, to be accountable to herself and grow. Is it that surprising that when that happened, he left her?
Abuse. When one partner uses the power in them to dominate and control the other.
On the other side, there are those of us choosing the abused role such as for the security of logistics. Example, “I take care of his/her basic needs, s/he buys me health insurance.”
Marriages, or committed Love bonds, require full dependence on each other. That is different than power. It is not qualifying that each of us have different levels of power. Of course. But using that power to generate intimacy is like having sex to become a virgin.
Question: How can you grow dependency in your love relationships? Even with yourself? Please tell us your story.
Self-Care Tip: Move away from power as a method to increase intimacy.
hey if you are too stinky we will ask you to leave not really sorry (Photo credit: stevendepolo)
Some of our most difficult cases are when we, the medical care-givers, think we know better how to take care of someone than we do take care of ourselves.
When a person maintains decision making capacity, but whose brain health disables them, if we care, we care.
Monty was one of these. He was ill! He was ill on so many tectonic plates, no one near him could keep their footing. His quality of life wasn’t what he wanted. He was disconnected from meaningful relationships. He was suffering. However, he couldn’t decide to engage in therapy.
Monty wanted to go “natural” but couldn’t name any natural therapies he’d be willing to try. He didn’t want to continue suffering, but couldn’t accept medications “just yet.” We went into one option after another, invested time together learning about brain illness and coming to terms with the biological involvement in where emotions and behaviors come from, and we did it many times. Monty had a full informed consent.
Deciding not to treat or to treat is not easy for any of us. Watching Monty step away into the foggy chaos of sex abuse and obsessive compulsive rituals was really hard.
We fight for our freedoms when we fight brain illness. I suppose we fight for the freedoms of others as well, simply by taking care of our own selves. Letting Monty choose even when his choices are affected by his illness is still his right and I defend him. We all who take care of ourselves have more to offer Monty than if we didn’t, including a defense against the losses that brain disease brings – like processing information.
I’m not sure yet how to explain how taking care of ourselves influences the freedoms of those around us who are less inherently free by brain illness. I suppose like anything good, freedom is contagious, a little bit of light in any room, Love being stronger than death and the Gettysburg address – this is along those lines. It makes a difference to the Monty’s out there that we all take care of ourselves.
Self-Care Tip: When frustrated that you can’t help others, get yourself healthy. It’s contagious.
Question: Have you been in the place where you thought you knew what was better for someone else then that person’s own choices? How did you deal with that? Please tell us your story.
Please do not state the obvious, thanks 🙂 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
We, many, share the not so friendly distorted belief that we are entitled to understand everything. Bull bullhorn in hand, supported by the scaffolding round our personal renovations, we trumpet our oppression per the noncommunicating swine we once called our relations.
“Isn’t it our job to try to understand?” you ask. Well, no. The duty to understand starts with Me and ends with Me. (I think I just felt a poison blow dart pierce my flesh! Stop that! Is this being received well!? Hello? Anyone?! Ouch! Not another dart!)
Motives too easily change to build a case against each other rather than reconcile or to account for our Me. What does someone owe us, if not to let us understand them? Nothing. Sounds harsh? Or maybe, not so harsh. Not as harsh as being victimized. Not as harsh as spending one’s bank on illusive control of what isn’t ours to control. Not as harsh as the crescendo anger swells into when a child watches her parents behave poorly. Not as harsh as watching your beloved friend “un-choose” you. No. Claiming title to the thoughts and behaviors of others is generally and commonly done with little insight, but it can only be policed by the individual on either end. After all, everything starts and ends with Me. (Plink! Hear the pennies dropping?)
We deserve as much as the value of our own self. Understanding others will come perhaps or perhaps not. But it is as deserved as any other gift. That is to say, not.
Question: How do you stay in your space, when you are grieving the behaviors of those you love? How do you keep your entitlement to, “Me,” where you have title? Please tell me your story.
Self-Care Tip: Something as easy as remembering, “They don’t owe Me anything; even understanding,” can be friendly. Keep on.
I am the proud finisher of the SF Half Marathon. It was the most beautiful run I’ve been on and my miles ran one minute faster (twelves) than I had planned (thirteens.) My husband coached and joined me as my birthday present, (yes, I’m rounding my fourth decade,) and I was listening to another sumptuous novel. Oh my. Thank goodness my emotions caught up with the undeniable blessings. Too often, we dutifully list off our gratitudes detached, like reading a latin prayer-book. And not often enough do our fantasies connect with our realities. Delightful! when they do though.
Best T-shirt ever was on the road.
The runner told me that the quote comes from the Rocky Horror Show. I could barely stop giggling. Just awesome.
That was a random bit of joy I wanted to share!
Pairing our duties with our pleasures brings bank. But today’s self-care tip is something a little to the left – cultivate fantasy and see what it brings to our reality. (This is a brief post but I hope to write more another time too :).)
Question: Where does fantasy fit in to your friendship with yourself? Please tell us your story.
Turning forty in a couple weeks here folks. Grateful. Have been pressing into the pleasures to be had from listening to a nearly constant stream of audible fantasy, sci-fi and fiction novels while jogging the new trail stretch from Rancho California Road to Winchester Road, between Diaz Road and the creek. Or other places.
I’m jogging more, thanks to both reducing to basics and the pairing of symbiotic pleasures. The novels are really just not enough to capture my time and energies of my current psyche’s journey. Nor is jogging! Snore! But pair those babies up and bam! Pleasure.
Question: What are you doing lately to be a friend to yourself?
Self-Care Tip: Pare, to improve pleasure and friendly behavior toward yourself.
Much of what we do in medicine is elementary. I wouldn’t know how to quantify the amount of plainness involved with our goings-on. Behind the writing of controlled substances on pricey government controlled paper, behind our, “Hmm’s”, our flow of learning and teaching, and more (or less) than the laying on of professional hands, we are… we are common.
To say it simply, physicians are dealing with themselves. In medical practice, separating the self out, effectively breaking the emulsion of the physician from their personal journey leaves many of us suspiciously grouped into the numbers of old and lonely but practically excellent. Some medical specialties are infrequently bested by anything other than 80+ hour work-weeks, knowledge retention and steady hands. The imminent peril and the literal moment by moment of life-saving interventions helps the rest of us understand.
Even so, I’ve known some who have been “the best” and still managed to be connected to their personal. I imagine some other dimension is forced open by all the space that that kind of nearly fictional human occupies: Cardiothoracic surgeon, Anees J Razzouk, M.D., at Loma Linda University, for one; Gisella Sandy, M.D., critical care specialist, general surgeon and medical missionary in Peru, for another. We are all happy to say that the list is long here. We think of the ordinary physicians planted around our planet who are heroic enough to do the simple. After all, how much can a physician offer to her patient if she hasn’t taken care of herself first?
Those of us who seek medical care from a physician will be interested to know that the physician as well as the patient can only carry so much before things start to fall out of their arms. Before a sack tears on our way from the car to the kitchen, before there is spillage and things go unnoticed, we want to know that they thought about it. We want for them what they want for their patients in other words. Accountability to Me.
Wanting this for others, because we are afraid, is understandable. But it’s not at the aorta where life pumps and freedom flows. Each of us, regardless of fancy prescription pad or paper gown, to trust the other, we must have their own wanting. Wanting this for themselves. For Me. That is the pulse on trusting each other.
Questions: How has being a better friend to yourself improved your trust in those who are serving you? How has being a better friend to yourself improved your ability to trust those you hope to serve? Please tell us your story.
Self-Care Tip – Follow the thoughts that bring you back to Me where you will healthily grow your accountability, wanting and trust. Be a friend to yourself
Feeling anxious about Christmas, or whichever December holiday celebrated? We are not alone. We think we are. We worry about the in-laws, parents, money, gifts for our kids, keeping the romance, abandonment, alcohol abuse, anniversary-grief of loved ones lost, and on and on. I’m thinking now especially of our dear blogger-friend, Lisa, who is spending this first Christmas without her mom.
Lisa, we are standing with you. We are weeping with you. You are not alone and we value you.
In this precious sum of days, “the holidays,” going into the space that holds our fear seems almost morally wrong. (Do we really have the responsibility we perceive we do to be “festive?”) The smiles and joy appear to occupy any organ-cell(s), from the lowest creature to our neighbor, who doesn’t deserve more than a broken shoe in his stocking. We think,
How can this be? Why don’t I feel joy or care?
Even when our mind knows the true answers that we are not chosen to suffer, we are not alone and that we are safe to be in the space of our fears – even then, we don’t perceive it. In the cold environment of our lonely selves, white breath condenses, freezes and, made heavy in winter-thought, falls to the ground before the “knowing” has a chance to reach the rest of us.
There are no universal-tips to dispense, cups of warm cocoa or four-sided tickets, except this. Remind any part of us that can hear our friend, that is to say Me:
We are present with our suffering. This does not take sincerity away from the things we actually do still enjoy and feel pleasure with. Inversely, feeling pleasure does not deny the grief or other negative feelings.
I remember starting with my research team about eight years ago. Some of the terrain between then and now returns like a welcoming committee every time I consider a team venture.
My research team and I have learned a rhythm and trust in each other’s talents that constitutes much of the travel pleasure experienced. However, knowing that their excellence is “behind” me, in front, and surrounding has been much of my medium for improvement. It has taken a lot for me to get this far, not absconding what we still hope for. What obstruction a colleague is when they lose their interest in growth. I am thankful they allow me multidimensional space to change, know my flaws and relax to know theirs. The ability to gift this to someone takes a lot of bank.
One of the beauties of having had received this type of gift once, is that it improves our vision to know where we might find it again. You readers have chosen me to work with but I have also chosen you and this is why. You have bank. Thank you for being persons of such high value.
When someone wonders about our talents, they are simultaneously wondering about our flaws. Standing under such scrutiny takes courage, I admit, but courage is improved by a sense of safety. Thank you for being safe. That takes bank.
I am a teacher. I am very good at teaching about emotional quotient, emotional and behavioral insight and interpersonal exchange. I am very good at teaching efficiency and perspective to achieve that. I am a Jedi in intuiting emotional milieu and harnessing that information into the goal at hand. I can do this for others, as well, with empathy and speed. I am talented.
Now. Surely when put this course way, and with your growing familiarity with me over the past one and a half years, you have some knowledge about my flaws. I am inspired that you believe more in my brilliance than in my Achilles. I am inspired that you ally yourself with me to make sure that my flaws do not kill me off and thereby kill the self-care work we endeavor together. That takes a lot of bank.
Your bank is more than you were given in your gene-purse. Your inheritance does not account for your long hard work on the continuum of growth. That is from intersecting personal dimensions that include things like in-process God-deposits, choice and more choice.
It is said that wealth begets wealth of which you are a rich example. Your riches are blessed, just as the men who did not bury their gold. I am happy to be with you, who are getting more bank. I am smart enough to know that after the shower, I will find something in my benefit. Ruth knew that of Boaz. Pond fish know that about the rain. I know that about you.
We are at a turning of seasons now, when creation takes stalk. Like so many squirrels, brown bears, tree frogs and you, I am glad when my pantry and borough reflects that I have a team, (allies to my desire and labor to be a friend to myself,) who are safe and rich and want Me. Wow. That is what they call, “Bank.”
Questions: How does it feel to know that you are known as, “Money-Bags?”
How do you choose allies to your self-care venture?
How has your sense of safety affected your ability to invest in yourself?
Please tell me your story.
Self-Care Tip – Remember that you are chosen and of high value.
Clara Bohan, wrote about the wise “white buffalo,” sacred to the Lakota as well as other Plains Tribes, such as the Apache and Cheyenne. White buffalo’s bring us a message. Read Clara’s blog if you want to know the message, but what we reference here at FriendtoYourself.com, is the embrace of magical thinking with an indian wearing sunglasses beside a plastic banner. I love it.
The oxymoron is no more inappropriate than the oxymoron we find in becoming our own best friend. In yesterday’s post, bluebee called it “schizophrenic,” which means a “broken mind.”
Self-care is an oxymoron at every turn. Love ourselves the way we are. Love ourselves too much to stay that way. Are you okay with that?
Sometimes I say that calling myself a “Christian psychiatrist” is an oxymoron because I know emotions and behaviors come from the brain, yet I believe in outside input, or what many call magic and unscientific. My own white buffalo.
Getting comfortable with the oxymorons in our life is a friendly thing to do. We are not so perfectly collected, so well-designed and well-defended that we will ever be above the magic each of us consider, quality of life. We could describe this in part as having a flexible identity for our own safety. If we take away the oxymoron, we threaten our hope-factor in life. We die as anything does that doesn’t move.
So there’s our tip.
Questions – What oxymorons are serving you well? How?
There are not many people who can poop on me whom I will still want back. Today, sitting at Olive Garden I noticed some brown on my white linen pants. I thought, “Oh bummer, my soup spilled.”
Image by adactio via Flickr
The food was delicious. I love their salad and minestroni soup. Yum. People say that the Olive Garden salad is the healthy food that really isn’t healthy and I believe them. Especially because I always eat like it’s a challenge. As if this may be the last salad I’ll get for weeks or perhaps I’m being filmed and about to get a prize for eating so much salad.
We were there with family, including my nieces and parents. You may remember my youngest niece who was born premature and damaged, yet dominated the NICU at UCSD with her rapid developing health. Remember how loopy I am over the perfect white and soft nape of her neck? Well she is about one and a half years old now, weeble wobbles all over the place, and she loves me. She really loves me. I have thought that perhaps she may know something the rest of the bozos around are missing and I quietly congratulate her often.
Today, of course she wanted me. We sat and snuggled and she gave me the ultimate compliment of letting me feed her. After her third visit, and the fact that the brown spots on my pants kept reappearing, I finally let the truth sink in as well. I had been pooped on.
After three babies of my own, anyone would think I should have known better, or perhaps been less repulsed. But let me tell you thinkers. I was so grossed out. It was all of me not to lose my salad.
We all got cleaned up. Mostly of course. FYI – it’s not that easy to get poop out of linen in a public bathroom. I was given lots of space by everyone thereafter. Except from my niece. Yes. She was back. And yes. I wanted her.
Now, how to get a self-care nugget out of this? Bring a change of clothes wherever you go and let love come. Even when you get pooped on.
She had just realized that life isn’t fair. Sure. She knew that before, but she just realized what she knew. Don’t we all love that moment when our senses join up – sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell, emotion, intellect, spiritual and the rest. That is a lot to coördinate after all and sometimes some of them don’t make the train.
Misty was a single mom of three. Her ex-husband was what she called, “Disney-Dad,” and her kids relished their time with him. Misty complained that she didn’t get to spend the special times with her kids. She mainly took care of them, but missed out on irresponsible fun. She was sure her kids wouldn’t look back and think of her like they would their father. She was getting angrier about it all the time, ruminating about it and it was getting in the way of her ability to connect with others and feel pleasure. There it was in front of her blocking her from seeing her kids even, let alone herself.
Then after weeks of this along with medication and talk therapy, she told me,
Yes. That’s it. Life is not fair. There are many other things in my life that aren’t fair either and if I look for them, I could spend my whole day every day counting them off.
It broke my heart a bit to hear her and see her there. Humble like that; she would I think affect you the same way. So real.
…we wait until we are at our wit’s end before we seek assistance…. considering reaching out as personal failure or inadequacy re: our own self-esteem…. Foolishly we wait until our way just is not working anymore. That is why AA calls this a gift: the gift of desperation. …For many, the depths into which we have succumbed are now found not to be so deep at all and in fact, ladders are readily available if we use them in recovery.
Ah Carl. Say it again.
The gift of desperation.
Too good. Don’t you think?
Questions: Have you ever received the gift of desperation? What did it bring you? Where did it take you? What did it do to you? Do you still have it? Please tell me your story.
Self-Care Tip – Celebrate your gift of desperation.
Have you said that? Half crazed from this-way-that-way behaviors, your battered psyche crawls out of the smoking heap from your most recent relationship collision. There are times when this is absurd to continue. But have you ever seen those people who crawl out smiling? Sure their eyes are rolling around on their face but they are smiling. That might be you too. And there’s a reason for it. However the reason may not be what you think.
She is worth it!
I’m not disputing “her” value in this admirable exchange that takes all your energy. But what I do dust off from the good “encounter” we just spoke of is that although she may be worth it, I propose that isn’t the reason you think it is. The reason is you.
You find pleasure in it because of what it does for you. You think you are worth it, and you are.
We love because of what it does for Me. God isn’t surprised by that or looking down His nose at our motivation. It sounds like He is actually embracing it – fully consented.
Remember when we talked about inevitable selfish motives, secondary gain and the absence of altruism in us? Is that an ugly thing about us? I don’t think so. It is what it is.
Now this does not evaporate the connection, the realness of the exchange between two, the value of the bond or its quality. See blog-post, Things Will Always Be About “Me.” It does nothing else but discuss the motivation. I believe understanding our motivation to remain in a relationship is important not to devalue it or value it differently, but to help us take care of our own selves.
She is worth it. That isn’t the question.
What can go wrong in our self-friendship when we think we are motivated by reasons outside of what is in it for Me? What do you think? I think it distracts us. It’s wasted energy and we don’t have enough to waste. Getting it right, puts energy into us. Getting it wrong, takes energy away.
Yesterday we talked about wanting to connect with someone who has character pathology. Any of us can say that this is hugely energy depleting at times. If we think we are doing this for any other reason than for ourselves, we will get “burned” much more often than we might if we understand that we choose, consented, freely and for ourselves. We will wear the victim-crown and die the death of worn out do-gooders who lived to do nothing really but bemoan their special suffering existence. See blog-post, Please Don’t Say “But.”
Self-Care Tip – Do things for yourself with self-knowledge.
It’s summer break already and that means more Mom-time for the kids,… and a few other things. But if there’s more Mom-time for the kids, we all know what there is more of for Mom. These things come together and equal more spending-money-time combined with less work-time. This can’t be without consequence.
I’m thinking stress, memory-makers, lots of kissing marshmellow-cheeks and tears to show. Always tears. The kids cry of course but if I do, its all,
Mom! Oh NO! Mom! Stop crying! Agh. I can’t stand it when you do that!
Lots of exclamation points are involved. I’m thinking this summer will have some of that because some days are stressful and painful. Others are just too beautiful to leave unstained with tears to sign my name by. Get ready kids!
Tonight, this is what I have.
I am licking my finger and turning a page. I feel the book as the page slowly fights the air to pass over. I haven’t seen the other side yet but the way the page lifts up and toward me, I know that this part is significant in itself. Lick my finger, press it down and sweep up. Up and passing over, just. The page is turning and so are we.
Question: What is turning in your life?
Self-Care Tip #280 – Pay attention to what is turning in you.
I ask five Questions 220.127.116.11.5. Will you give your testimony?
Q1: What does being “a friend to yourself” mean to you in real-time life practice?
Q2: What helps you do this at one time vs. another?
Q3: What still hinders your efforts?
Q4: What has pushed you past those barriers?
Q5: How do you understand the interplay between biology and choice in being “a friend to yourself?”
P.S. – I had a hard time finding a picture for this! I have no idea about who’s who and it took forever to find something that I think won’t trigger any political uprising amongst you fine readers… But… if I didn’t, please don’t take me to the stand! (Bad humor wink.)