Fears

I keep wanting to write about fears but I feel like I have a whole long and dragged out story that has to go along with it. And I don't want to discuss the story here. It's too personal.

It's funny how we get so used to running our lives a certain way that we don't realize that there are certain feelings we've learned how to block. Of course they're not really blocked, they just manifest in certain behaviours. Like the survival behaviours.

I've been saying that April was a month of anxiety but that's not entirely true. It was actually a month of discovering that I was in fear mode and what my racket was, how I react when I am in fear mode. I was anxious, no doubt and my breathing was that adrenalized breathing, fast and panicky. I was doing everything to get off that roller coaster of feeling embarrassed for hoping and having the upper hand in the situation. Oh and I assumed I knew what was going on. I knew the story, this is why you are doing this and saying that and well, I have to win at all costs.

So I'm anxious, embarrassed, feeling like I'm being laughed at and thinking that I know the full story. And I'm reacting and I'm not breathing. That's a disaster waiting to happen.

Breathe. Thank God I journal because everything I know about taking care of myself went out the window.
Breathe. I wanted to flee the scene, never to be heard from again.
But I couldn't escape. Holy cow, what kind of a Girlfish am I when I can't swim away from my troubles?
Breathe. All is well in my world.
BREATHE. Oh My God, this feeling is fear. What am I scared of? Shoot, I'm scared of not getting want I want and even worse I'm scared of getting what I want. And this feeling is fear?

I'm so fascinated by what we bring along with us from childhood. There is so much that I've healed and I'm proud of that. I've worked hard. But it surprises me still how deep it goes. And now my work, my healing, my focus gets into feelings. Growing up with violence doesn't allow for feelings. You can't get emotional when the father figure comes home ready to beat up the people who love him. You have to be ready to react. You have to be focused on the sliver of an opportunity. And believe me, it's a sliver.

I was five years old and I was trained to wake up at the first sign of his violence. I was trained to get dressed in the dark and be ready for when my brother or mother would open my bedroom door, turn on the light and say, "Come on , let's go."
It was usually while he was having a pee so truly a sliver of opportunity. I didn't cry. I didn't have emotions. I wasn't a baby. I couldn't afford to be a baby. I was trained.

I've held on to that training for 45 years because that was all I knew.
In an ironic twist, I think I've healed enough and feel safe enough to actually feel. Safe and fear. Safe with fear?

So you're fear? Take a seat and let me get to know you. How do I look at you face to face? Breathe? Breathe.

As I retell the story of April in my mind I constantly tell myself, I was scared. If I'm going to move forward I need to actually know how to identify what I am feeling. I know anger oh so well. Anger and I have walked hand in hand, it's in that invisible knapsack of weapons I carry on my left shoulder. It sits snugly beside the dagger eyes I've been known to use.

Fear. Can't say I like you but I'm sure glad to know that I know you.

EY

Silence

I’ve always wanted to do a silent retreat. From the first time I ever heard it existed, I’ve wanted to do one. I have a feeling I’ll probably become addicted to them.

I’m a person who thrives in silence. Especially because my work life is so filled with constant chatter. I work with all men by day and if you think women are chatty, we’ve been sold a bill of goods. Ha-ha! My part time job is also a chat-fest. No matter what job I am at, people always want to know what I am doing in that moment and if they don’t ask about that then they have to tell me something random. I’m not always interested.

I’m not an idle chit-chat kind of person. I have no use for it. I have no patience for it. I think it’s a time filler and I could be doing better things with my time. I also believe that if you have nothing worthwhile to say then don’t say anything. It may sound cranky but not everyone’s a chitchat person. A little bit of silence never hurt anyone.

There are so many reasons why people engage in idle chit-chat. It’s a way to avoid the silence. For many people it’s uncomfortable to be with someone and not talk. Some people feel that they’re being rude if they don’t talk. Some people don’t understand that you can be connected in silence with a simple smile. Some people just love the sound of their own voices. Some people are bored and want you to be their entertainment. Some people are trying to get you to like them …

For me, the constant chatter drains me. I’m a good listener, a great listener actually, and it’s exhausting being a great listener. I empathize with what I hear, I feel it emotionally and physically. I have anxiety and worry for the person I am listening to if it’s a troubled story. I feel heavy in my shoulders if the chatter is just foolishness. It’s all energy.

I was raised to be seen and not heard. I’m of that generation. Being seen and not heard, something I perfected, meant I did a lot of listening. I knew a lot about the adults, things that I shouldn’t have known at my age, but I was so good at being quiet, they’d forget that I was there. And if they’d look over at me to see if I was listening I’d busy myself in some way or not show any facial reaction, to make it seem like I didn’t understand what I was listening to. I literally was raised to be a good listener.

It’s hard now, though, as an adult, and I almost need to shake it off, shake that energy out. It’s hard to explain. Part of it is because I’ve actually never analyzed it, I just know that it drains me.

I found myself at one point in 2003, feeling down in the dumps for an extended period of time, subsequently being diagnosed with depression and refusing to go on the meds (for a year minimum). I always go through cycles/seasons where I need more time to myself and I need to cocoon and recharge to be healthy. In 2002/2003, that season turned into an entire year. It wasn’t healthy anymore. I made the decision that it was my thinking that got me into this trouble so I’d have to use my thinking to get me back out of it.

I took a hard look at the people in my life, what they gave me, what I felt they took away from me. We can really spend an entire lifetime doing what everybody else wants in the name of maintaining relationships. I looked at how much I loved the people in my life. Was the love strong enough for me to continue the way things were? Was the love strong enough to commit to discussing with them the changes I needed for us to remain in each others lives? I became more honest about how I felt. And most importantly, I became more precious about my time.

My time. I’m not going to leave my house to sit at your house to watch TV. I can stay home and watch the shows I actually want to see. I’m not going to suffer through another dinner with friends of yours who I’m not in love with (not even in like with)if that’s the only way I can spend time with you. I’m not going to come spend time with you on your work break to have to sit through a thousand and one people coming up to talk to you because they just have to tell you something that they could have told you all day long. And you don’t bother to say, “Listen, come see me later, I’m with my friend Shelley who I never get to see.”

My time. Hah, Depression made me learn to put myself first in My Life. I’m not going to do everything your way so you feel great and I feel like an exhausted piece of shit. My life.

I’m such a firm believer that illness is an indication that change needs to happen in our lives. The gift of illness is like a decluttering. With my stomach problems when I was a teenager, my doctor a stomach specialist, told me to speak up for myself otherwise I’d be sick for the rest of my short life. Because I wouldn’t live long with those stomach problems that I had.

In 1991, My Naturopath asked me after I’d been hospitalized for 2 weeks with 3 types of rashes all over my body, “What or who is getting under your skin? What’s making your blood boil that’s turning your skin into 3 rashes?”

And in 2000, after two years of getting colds where my ears would fill with liquid and I couldn’t hear, I finally started to ask myself, “What do I not want to hear?”

Today, Idle chit chat is one of the things I don't want to hear. lol

The thing about listening to others all the time is that, at some point, I can no longer hear that voice in my head. You know that voice? She’s so quiet. She whispers and she only whispers once and her whisper is connected to my gut. Somehow her whisper yanks me in my gut , untangles the knot, and creates a subtle energy within me that makes me nod my head once and I know what I need to do in a surefooted, tunnel vision, focused way. She brushes over my mounting fear when I’ve reached my limit in a situation and burn a bridge. Sometimes the only way you can leave or change is by burning that bridge, leaving yourself with no choice. She whispers “don’t worry I’ll lead you through this. Just listen.”

When I make the space to stop listening to every chatty Cathy, I create the room within me to hear myself.

EY

John Francis, a Pisces like me, made me think about listening and silence. 17 years of not talking?