Challenges
This is part four of an exploration into how I navigated a recent difficult period. The first in this series is, Distorted Nostalgia.
"Runaway child, running wild …
Better go back home … where you belong …"
Temptations, 1969
From my journal …
My niece, wearing a pink outfit, is throwing up and running away ... from me. She has a bruise on her forehead. We were traveling together, and at some point she returns from the bathroom without her jacket – also pink. When I inquire, she said that she had thrown up. “On your jacket?” “Yes.”
Later she is upset at losing all that was in the jacket pockets – especially a photo of a young boy. The photo had been worn and creased, but it was all she had left and now it was gone.
At a restaurant, the staff helps her to escape. At first I say fine and leave. But at home I looked over all I had acquired for her. They were all inappropriate for a fun loving child. They were weights and tools wrapped up to look like gifts. I realized that I wanted her back so I went back and demanded her return.
I sit with the first message from this dream. My child self is not happy with what I have been feeding her (throwing up) and giving her (weights and tools). She was mad about what she had to give up and finally ran away. And I was fine with it until I looked at what I had been offering her. Then I realized what I had done and what she really meant to me.
The second message in this dream was where she chooses to run away -- a place filled with food. Aha! My runaway child is placating herself with food.
There is definitely a pattern here. My fire self, [the one who interrupts my quiet moments with the flame of anxiety and tension] is overbearing and pushy. My water self is rebellious and running wild. Ai yi yi, something has to give.
They are each overreacting, one to fear, the other to hunger. My fire self takes over at the first sign of chaos, loss of control and stress. I am afraid of losing ground to the chaos, the ten thousand things of life that haunts introverts like myself.
And whenever I succumb to the fear, a second reaction spills out due to my hunger for life itself. My water side rebels and starts me to binging to compensate – as if there will never be a chance again … to enjoy life.
Ah! The message of the dream I ignored comes dancing back before my eyes. I do not want to lose any more time, I feel like I have given up so much already, I do not want to miss out on the passion of living in the moment, not again, not anymore. I have been so sick for so long, enough with all this working hard all the damn time. And it does feel like a family curse, now that I think of it.
I sit with these realizations as tears well up and fall to my journal obscuring the words. When I can talk, I say out loud, “Please don’t leave me again … we will get through this together … I promise.”
Next … a dialogue … finally
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Mon, 07/28/2008 - 9:00am.
This is part three of an exploration into how I navigated a recent difficult period. The first in this series is, Distorted Nostalgia.
I awaken with the following listed on my internal chalkboard …
- Nothing is actually wrong.
- Web design is my business. And as a business owner, I have to step up to the plate and meet deadlines. It is my job. I am a professional, and this is what professionals do.
[… break to catch a design idea for one of my clients …]
- I am a priestess, shaman and warrior mystic – this is my vocation. This is my calling, my great opus. It is who I am.
- I am not missing out on life. This is my life. And there is nothing wrong with it.
- This is exciting times. I am in demand. I have customers beating a path to my door. This is the life I had hoped for all these years.
Yes, I am scared, worried, and filled with anxiety – but this is what success looks like.
[…break to catch an idea for a personal goal…]
And on toward my day …
…next morning … from my journal …
Whoa! Yesterday was really hard on me. The quick fix I had hoped for did not materialize and I feel as if my entire day was a wasted effort.
And all my dreams last night were about (1) Disasters and picking up afterwards, and (2) Getting lost on a road in the middle of nowhere and dealing with it.
In the first dream, I had to pull out the carcasses of the dead and work with what was left. In the second dream, I had to find a way to care for these orphans without causing myself even more problems.
This week is impossible! Too much stuff on my list! And now I need to add in what someone forgot to tell me about as well, Aieee! This is all very stressful!
[ .. oh and here is an idea for some future classes ..]
Omigod, can [you] stop already? … sigh …I have enough ideas … really.
next ... run away child...
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Sun, 07/20/2008 - 3:04pm.
As I sit here typing with one hand bandaged, I wonder what this new year will bring. Some things I know already and somethings I highly suspect will manifest, but the rest, the majority in fact, is a complete mystery.
I have plans of course, I would not be a card carrying Air person without my plans. But I know in my bones that life doesn't always abide by my carefully laid out plans.
Like for instance, yesterday I had planned to comb out my hair for my annual New Year's Dinner. And there I was dressed all in black with a white towel wrapped around my head for the entire affair. I could not unbraid my hair due to my bandaged hand. Oh Well!
And today I was supposed to wash all the accumulated pots, pans and dishes left from the dinner and once again ... oh okay, I guess I should explain why my hand is bandaged.
Every year since I bought this house, I have invited family and later friends to join me on New Years Day for a feast of collard greens, black-eyed peas, honey baked ham and cornbread. And over the years, the feast has grown with folks bringing their contribution to an orgy of food, laughter and meaningful conversation.
There are two traditions that are associated with this dinner, first there is no alcohol allowed and secondly, I use Prince music to motivate me as I cook before my guests arrive.
The second tradition is what caused me to cut my "bird" finger.
I was blasting what I like to call Prince radio, "All Prince, All the time". And as I danced around the kitchen singing along, my little kitten, Devi, began screaming from the doorway at the top of her lungs. I was pretty sure it was not an offer to sing-a-long. At first I would pick Devi up and sing to it, which often calmed her down. She was having problems with my music, and who doesn't on occasion.
But just after I washed my hands for the umpteenth time so I could continue cutting collards, my favorite song, "Joint to Joint" came on. Devi began crying and just as I turned to reassure her ... yep, I forgot I was in mid cut ....I sliced my finger. Youch!
I raced upstairs with blood oozing from my hand. When I emerged from the upstairs with my bandaged finger ... the first time ... I turned down the music. I looked down to see blood on the floor .. and back up I raced. The second time I had a much better bandage on my middle finger.
So although I could complete the meal prep, take a shower and get dressed, I was unable to do small detail work like ... unbraid my hair. And today, after a bandage change at 2 am, I have decided to not touch the dishes till later.
So my carefully laid plans were thwarted by a little kitten's dislike of Prince music blasting out of a boom box. If that is not an object lesson for life ... I don't know what is.
So anyway, my plans are to share some of my goals and provide a window into how I go about meeting them as the year progresses. We will see what actually happens, now that morning has finally broken.
Happy New Year!
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Wed, 01/02/2008 - 3:26pm.
I was thinking as I brushed my teeth last night about the saying, “It is always darkest before dawn.”
I had just spent the hour before bedtime struggling with some deep emotions and recurring paradoxes that have been erupting over and over again all this holiday season.
My healer/elder had suggested that I begin by asking my younger self what she thought about things before attempting any work. So I asked and the answer was confusing at first.
She seemed to be off the point entirely when she weakly said, “Move.”
Move?
“Move …”, was her reply.
So I got up and danced to the original Quiet Storm on our local radio station out of Howard University. After awhile, I noticed the intense pain in my left hip so I bent over and stretched. And again back to dancing till it felt right.
So I asked again. And again the same answer but this time she said, “Move …often.”
After a few exchanges, we began discussing the pain in my core that seemed to get stronger and more painful as we talked.
And soon the tears fell, as I asked …What is happening?
“It is coming … just hold on.”
What is coming? And why does it hurt so …?
“Hold on …”
And finally it hit. And the tears welled up and I opened my mouth to scream … and then I felt it. My right hip released. My back moved. My left hip moved. My shoulders relaxed. And then it was over.
What the hell was that?
“It is done.”
What the f---?
And just like that, my paradox softened and the way seemed clear …enough.
Whoa!
So in the words of my younger self, not to be confused with THE Younger Self, I have just two words … Hold on.
Apparently it is always darkest before dawn. And sometimes … you just have to move.
Posted in
Submitted by katrina on Wed, 12/26/2007 - 9:25am.
Greetiongs, Katrina!
I am so glad to hear that you are well and on the way to mending! May your recovery be thorough and swift. May you enjoy it as *down* time from your busy life. May it be filled with gentle good times and loving friends and students at your side. And enough alone time to keep your throught straight!
Much love and many blessings,
SophiaHeath
sweet! :-)
You are usually able to annunciate what I do not have words for. Thank you!
Much love,
-Eridanus
INTJ here. I hear what you are saying.
"what is remembered, lives". It was with sadness that I read of Wilma Mankiller's passing. She won't be forgotten.
"...Weaver, Weaver weave this thread, whole and strong into your web...Healer, Healer, heal our pain...In love may she return again..."