What? Who Said That? Who's There?!

Lately, I've noticed how my fears manifest, how I project them, and how I let them get a hold of me. Often, I find my reactions are as a result of my own critical voice sneaking around, highlighting my insecurities, and convincing me that they are true. But when I really think about it, I realize I'm mostly (if not entirely) reacting to my own fears and assumptions about what is true. I blur the lines between my insecurities and what is reality. I'll automatically assume how people feel about me and start building my internal reactions to it. By doing this I think I'm protecting myself and yet it only makes me more insecure and stressed. So while I've always known I'm my own worst enemy, I've only recently been able to notice when I'm steeling myself in anticipation of false assumptions. Its time to shed some light on this.

I hear the fears and insecurities from within...all the things I'm scared of (not being accepted, looking silly, sounding stupid, not being liked or likable, not performing well, being judged as high maintenance, narcissistic, feeling as though all this self-analysis is a turn off, and so on). It adds up and can make me feel small, scared, stuck and powerless. As a result I'll get uptight, stressed, sad, and withdrawn. And usually these feelings and my reactions to them sneak up on me. The insecurities and fears feel true enough. So I'll try to mentally and emotionally prepare myself and plan to make all the right moves so I won't be hurt.

But when I take a step back from my emotional reactions and do a check of whether or not I know it to be true, I realize that I don’t really know. When I've deconstructed these situations its actually ME saying all of these things to myself. Not others. And when I’m not caught up in it, I can see how much of my concerns come from within. How much of these stressors are assumptions that I've absorbed as truth and without question. I notice that I give so much away. But why? Why have I allowed my self-worth to be defined so much by external factors? Contrary to how this sounds, I do value myself. But the feedback from others carries so much weight. Too much. Where is my inner power and strength? Why am I so vested in someone else's feelings about me and not my own?

I don't know all the answers. I'm a work in progress. I know its not my responsibility to measure up to others. Ultimately, I am accountable only to myself. My values. My ethics. My standards. Nobody else's. The trick is being able to take back my power and let go of the rest. To be true to myself and honor who I am without cluttering it up with assumptions and fears. I need to do the gut check more often to really test the assumptions so I can stop the emotional spiral.

Welcome Back

Public, please forgive me, it has been awhile since my last post. (Doesn't that sound like a start to a confession?) I suppose it would be naive to assume that, since that weekend at the beach (see Self Intervention post), my life would for ever more have clarity and I would be free from suffering for the rest of my life. Wouldn't that be nice? But I guess that's unrealistic. Still, life has indeed been better. Here is an update on my journey.

My mindfulness class wrapped up in mid-August. For several weeks after my last post and after my class, I had a daily routine of meditating, picking a phrase/affirmation I could use throughout that day, journaling, Qi Gong, and taking time out of each day to make sure I was "present". I found I was treating myself with loving kindness and it felt really, really good. It was foreign to me, but good. I felt lighter, happier, and full of hope. And it didn't take much - just making sure I was aware of my self and my surroundings and acknowledging all of it. I continue to do this today. Its a great practice.

I try to find ways to minimize the kind of emotional "smack down" I have experienced over the years. Maybe if I let a little pressure out over time rather than keeping a tight lid on the whole time, the result will be fewer extremes in mood. And it worked. I am connecting with myself, something I was never able to do. And at times when I am feeling sad or stressed out, I would sit myself down and have a private conversation, between me and my critical/fearful voice, to understand what is motivating me. What was I attached to? Why did these things matter to me? Why did their outcome matter to me? I acknowledged the feelings rather than trying to solve them, reason with them. I just sat with whatever came up and validated the concerns. I also allowed myself to cry and weep - something I had been holding in. I found that this method really worked for me and that I was much closer to center as a result.

I have also been taking risks and breaking personal rules since that weekend. For example, one Friday night I thought I should make plans to go to the beach the next morning. Its only a 25 minute drive and if I leave by 10am I can skip traffic and spend most of the day there. I would enjoy hearing the waves, smelling the sea air, getting the sun in my face. However, being a night person and being sleep-deprived, I slept in and put off my plans. I had a hearty breakfast and then a snack and then sat to watch TV. (Hm...) I was feeling very full, uncomfortable, and disappointed with myself. I looked at the time. It was now 12:45/1pm. I thought to myself "Nice job. There goes the beach." I began to beat myself up about it. What a shame that I didn't follow my plan like I wanted. I let it get away from me.

Then I thought "Hey, that's one of my silly rules - I can't go to the beach unless its early in the morning. Who said that was the only time I could go? Why can't I go? The beach will still be nice in the afternoon!" So with that, and a full belly, I spritely went upstairs, put my hair up, changed into some walking clothes, put on my walking shoes, and got out the lumbar waist pack I use for walking (its great because it has lots of room and holds two large water bottles and I love to rehydrate). (Yay me!) I decided to break my rule. For me. No one else but me. How I looked was not important. This was for ME.

So I left the house around 2pm. I started my drive to the beach feeling proud that I was out of the house and breaking rules. Then I drove past the freeway and saw a ton of traffic. CRAP! Oh well. Guess I should just go somewhere else or turn back. Another disappointment. So I thought I'd drive about 45 minutes away and head towards Half Moon Bay instead. I started off in that direction and thought, y'know that place is nice but its much farther away, its much less likely to be sunny, could be foggy, and it could be really, really cold. So I turned around again and drove down the crowded freeway. I was out of the house. I had water. I had music. I was definitely not hungry. So what if I sat in traffic for 2 hours and enjoyed the music and scenery? Besides, this would make going up the windy mountain road that much safer! Traffic was moving at a crawl for about 10 minutes and then everything cleared up. I got to the beach at 2:45pm.

I started out on my walk along the trail. While there, I took time to sit on a bench looking at the ocean. It was a busy place - long walking path with lots of bikers and dogs, too. Great for people-watching. I was sweating, I was wearing clothes that didn't fit well, my shoes didn't go with the clothes (another broken rule), and my face was beat red from the little walking I had done and had become splotchy with sun-spots. But I didn't care. I was there for me and whoever didn't like it could turn away because I just didn't care. I was by the ocean listening to the music I love. It felt so liberating! And I was proud of myself. I still am. I didn't just break one rule I broke several.

Over time, I've found that my mindfulness routine has withered, my fears have increased, as have my distractions. I found I was bogged down by what was going on in the world - war, bridges collapsing, floods, lost miners, mothers killing children, husbands killing families, toxic toys, brutal rapes, deaths, oh, and a highschool reunion that brought back some anxiety. My work was getting to me, as well. Not so much my work, but the people and pressures around me. I am not passionate about my job, but I am passionate about how I do it. I put so much pressure on myself to perform, to be liked, to feel smart, to look smart, to be competent, to exceed expectations. I don't want to disappoint others or myself and I don't want to be embarrassed. But since I wasn't getting that kind of external feedback about something so personal to me, it was weighing heavily on me. These attachments are my main triggers.

So with all this going on, the world around me felt toxic. And at this weak moment, out from the depths of some dark place where my fear and critical voice live, my depression reappeared, ever so subtly. I found I stayed indoors, withdrawing. Thinking I was taking care of myself but clearly disengaging from life. I saw this happening like I was watching it in a movie. I felt the disintegration as it happened over time. I simply felt overpowered and too exhausted to try and pull myself out. Even still, I had hope. I knew this funk was temporary - I was just feeling the weight of everything on me and couldn't shake it. Forgot how or felt paralyzed by the grip. Previously, I'd fall into something like this and did not even see it coming and then I was down for the count. So understanding what was happening to me and recognizing my emotional shift (now vs. then) was progress. Something I've not been able to do in the past.

I've sinced managed to normalize and identify some of those triggers before they push me too far. Again, progress. I bought a new chair for my house that represents the same one at the beach. At times its been hard to climb into it because it reminds me of something I feel I'm not up to...but then I climb in and all is right with the world. I have started meditating again, and getting outside more. I'm not consistent or doing it routinely, but I'm doing what I can. I've re-inserted myself into my iPod and playlists. The music has brought me lots of joy - even just tinkering with the playlists, creating CDs for my car, etc..

I am disappointed that I haven't continued with my daily routine. (another attachment) But I can see that this can be like a diet or exercise - its healthy, its something to be mindful of, to enjoy, and its a lifestyle where being perfect isn't going to happen. Ups and downs and the spaces in between are to be expected. This is a journey after all. I just have to keep reminding my neurotic self of this. My challenge is going to be how I am able to compassionately recover and redirect myself to loving kindness and being mindful without berating myself for not being or doing any of it. This has been the struggle all along. Me. My fear. My critical voice. And letting go.

A Self Intervention / Excorcism

For about 30 years now, I've had depression. It has had its extreme low points which have been scary for me, my friends and my family. A part of my depression is as a result of not knowing how to cope with my critical voice. I would try to be strong, but this critical voice would overpower my ability to recover, to nurture, to self regulate. I was beaten down. A recent new practice, however, has given me hope. So far, it has been really surprising and positive.

Over the years, that critical voice has grown in monumental proportions. And as it grew, I shrunk. As it grew, it got louder, more powerful. The louder it got, the more I responded by believing every word it said, withdrawing, and compartmentalizing. I'd believe it so much that I didn't want to hear it, didn't want to hear me. I'd cover my ears and eyes and shake my head like a kid saying, "I don't hear you. I don't see you." But instead of allowing myself to hear it, and acknowledge the feelings, I pushed them down. I stopped them. I cut them off by watching TV or reading a book, or some other distraction. It was just too painful to hear it all the time. The ironic thing is that, I often feel I struggle to be heard by others. Or, at least, I have felt unheard at times. I have felt insignificant. Its a sensitive point for me. And when I do try to speak up, sometimes I don't feel I'm taken seriously (or I convince myself that I'm not). I feel discounted, silly, and irrelevant. Not so coincidentally, I imagine this is how that part of me was feeling when I tried to push it away.

Recently, I reached a point where I had hit the wall - I'd had enough. I was cornered, buried, drowning and being smothered by stress and this critical part of me that wouldn't let go. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't function. I didn't want to wake up and be picked apart. I didn't want to be present in my life. I didn't want to hurt. All my life, this "voice" or "ego" or critical part of me, has been in my head. I never actually gave it a voice. Its always been this semi-silent abuser in my head. My only power, I felt, was to distract it. To not allow it to reach me. But it always did. The critical voice always fought back harder and harder. It was relentless. For so long I heard it over and over and didn't respond. I felt I couldn't. And I bought into it. I shrunk more and more, my fear of it grew, and my world became much smaller, as a result. "It can't be this hard to get through a single day!" I thought. Why me? It seems that I'm the only one struggling like this so this critical part of me must be right. I must deserve this. And it had reached a point where I felt desperate, hopeless, and unworthy of existing at all.

At the end of this particularly stressful week, I realized that I needed to quiet the world around me, and allow this part of me to voice itself. To get it out in the open. To stop pushing it away. To stop supressing it. I was tired of compartmentalizing - there simply was no more room. I needed to verbalize all that I was saying to myself in my head because it was continuing to swoop and fly around like a mother bird protecting its nest. And I kept shooing it away. I decided I'd set aside some time to go to the beach, to one of my favorite places where the water and sand are close to the living quarters. I had a hard time convincing myself to do it, because the place I would stay wasn't perfect and it was expensive. It wasn't the setting I felt I needed - it didn't have the preferred prefect view. But it was right on the beach, if not closer than any other location. I realized I was applying the standards I have for myself to other areas in my life. I don't accept myself unless I'm perfect. I almost didn't go because the view wasn't perfect.

So I went. When I arrived I couldn't wait to get on the beach. I shoved everything in the room, grabbed my lawn chair, and marched out toward the sea with determination. I was showing up. I breathed in the salty air, the sound of the waves, the brightness of the sun, the heat of it beating down on my face, the wind through my hair, the sand between my toes. I could only breathe in deep, deliberate, like a fish when its out of the water. It felt scary. But I was proud that I made this decision and that I was there. It was the right thing to do. I needed this. WE (me and my critical voice) needed this.

The place was wonderful. A furnished condo. It had a chair with an ottoman next to a big window for me to look out of, a nice kitchen, and easy access to the beach. There was a TV and DVD player in the room, but I didn't want to watch any TV. I didn't want to escape. I came here to meet myself, head on. It was just me and me, one on one. I knew what I needed to do. And it was going to be tough.

First, I created a safe space for myself by allowing myself to be present, to meditate, to appreciate this experience I'm about to give myself. As one instructor puts it, to recognize it as an act of love. This alone made me cry. I find it hard to give gifts to myself as well as to receive them. Second, I would be as honest as I could, even though I knew it was going to hurt. Third, I would make sure to observe and appreciate my surroundings as often as I could - the beauty of the ocean, its vastness, the sun set, the sound made when the waves crash on the beach. I would try to be present in whatever I was doing. Finally, I set the intention that this experience was intended to open a dialogue with myself. It was not intended to beat myself up. I knew I needed to be careful not to attach myself to what was being said, that could turn out disasterous for me. Instead, the intention was to honor this process of just saying the words I've been saying internally so they could be realized, to be heard, so we can hear each other like two separate people having a conversation.

I sat with a microcassette recorder and introduced myself as that critical voice. For over 90 minutes I told myself all the criticisms I could think of that I say to myself and in the most natural way I could. I tried not to analyze what I was saying. I just let it flow. It was a bit of an out-of-body experience. It was honest and brutal. But I wanted (needed) to give these thoughts a voice. This was how I chose to release them from years of confinement.

Afterwards, I transcribed the tape. It took hours. And as I did, I realized for the first time, just how abusive I am to myself on a regular basis. I mean, I knew I was hard on myself, but I never heard it as if it was another person saying it to me. This time it was different. I didn't like this part of me at all. It was cruel, beligerent, and abusive. If someone else had heard these things being said to a child, they'd have to call in Child Services. I had never heard myself this toxic, demeaning, and belittling before. The words and tone weren't new, it was just hearing it this way it sounded more piercing, more personal. I was shocked and also really, really saddened. I didn't deserve to be talked to like this. And I knew it. I felt it for the first time. And now that this critical part of me had a voice, I felt I could respond, like I would if someone else I cared about was saying these things to me.

Along with surprise and sadness, after transcribing, I also felt a foreign sense of relief and pride. Wow. This was a tough thing to do and I chose to make this part of me more real. It was like awakening a monster and bringing it to life where I'm in its path and the only thing it focuses on but I was facing it head on in order to save myself. While I was relieved to have finished the transcription, I waited a full day to respond. I didn't actually want to respond. I hate conflict and this was too scary. But I also wanted to organize my thoughts after giving it time to sit with me for awhile.

The next day I typed out my response. It also took hours. My first reaction was to be defensive. My second reaction was to cut off this part of me altogether. Who needs it, right? But as I was typing my response, I realized that my critical voice is mean and abusive - I don't need to reciprocate, to reject it, and be at that level as well. Instead, I knew I needed to show compassion. Love. I apologized to myself for not hearing this critical part of me earlier in my life, for rejecting it and pushing it away all these years. I tried to understand where it was coming from, opening my heart and acknowledging all that it said. I used active listening skills, and itemized everything I heard it say to me, to validate it. And in the end, I wrote a response as if I was talking to, and sitting across from, someone I care about who has poor communication skills and they never learned how to express themselves effectively or compassionatley. With all this being nice, I was also careful not to play victim. This was not saying I accept and believe all that was said or that I thought it was okay. Rather, just that I heard it. Actually, I felt tremendously empowered by taking this approach. It reminded me of the meditation practice of being aware and not judging. Simply acknowledging and being present. The relationship between myself and this critical voice was changing by doing just that.

I told this critical voice that its existance was important to me. That I loved it and needed it around, but that we needed to change our dynamic. I explained that I was going to be paying more attention now, so it didn't need to be so abusive and loud. I explained that I do, however, need it to speak up in times of danger or high alert, but not to criticize everything I do and mislead me. It needed to understand that I was not going to be perfect and it would just have to accept me this way, because I WAS going to make mistakes and I WAS going to get hurt. It couldn't protect me from everything, otherwise I would experience nothing. I felt like I was the mature parent talking to a child, a bully. And I was.

Today, I continue to read that dialogue as a reminder of where I've been and where I'm going. I still have depression. But I realize that I was able to be compassionate with this side of me even though it went against everything I felt I was supposed to do in order to protect myself. My critical voice is still there. It will always exist. I think that's normal.

Its a struggle, but every day I am trying to be open to hearing that critical voice (instead of trying to shut it down and stop it altogether). I'm trying to recognize my attachments, and give them some space and attention. By practicing being aware of my body, the sensations, thoughts, feelings, and being willing to sit with them with an open heart, I think (I hope) I'll be better able to investigate and acknowledge all parts of me (and others, for that matter) without judging, discounting, or rejecting myself. I'm so grateful that I had a positive experience with this "intervention". It was amazing! And afterward, I was so proud of myself for being attentive to my needs, something I'm not used to doing. Paying attention is a gift, an act of love, we all deserve. This is so new, but I hope to make this awareness stuff a daily practice.

Performance Anxiety

I have a doctor's appointment coming up and I'm not looking forward to it. It's not a horrible experience. It's not painful. It's not embarrassing. Going to the doctor is a normal part of life, right? Its important to check things out when we're not feeling well and to get regular checkups. I have doctors and specialists I am comfortable with and appreciate.


Despite how comfortable I feel, I still have some level of anxiety during an appointment. No, it’s not that these doctors make me nervous. Its that I’m terrified I’m going to fail the tests! I’m afraid I’m going to not perform well, leaving them disillusioned about me and disappointed in my results. “What a shame. She could have been perfect. What a disappointment.”


Even though I had Lasik eye surgery and my vision has drastically improved, I can’t stand getting my eyes checked. E looks like B, M looks like W, C could be G. And even when the eye doctor offers a second look while switching the damn lenses, “Which is better? 1 or 2. 1, 2.” Me - "Again please. [pause] Again please." What if I have something blurry in my eye during the test and I can see better later? Is there a do-over? Do I have to say “that’s my final answer”? What if I go to get my hearing checked but I have wax build-up? What if I am so worked up about the doctor’s appointment (the “white-coat syndrome”), that my blood pressure actually goes through the roof, and now I’m being treated for hypertension?


I actually don’t get as worked up as it would appear. But I care too much about performing and not disappointing others that the idea of failing, even something over which I have no control, is disheartening. The true neurotic. These tests are done because so often people do not do well on them and it’s a measurement of ones’ actual health - to make sure you're okay. It’s actually a good thing to catch the weaknesses now so they can be made stronger with help. But the pressure!


This week in my Mindfulness class I was singled-out for something I put down on one of the registration forms. While we were in small groups, I was pulled aside by the facilitator. He wanted to ask me about it since it was highly personal and to make sure I had proper support. I found myself ashamed. Embarrassed to be called out. I was initially feeling good in this class - good performance. I was finally connecting and feeling pretty good about myself. But not after the "talk". I instantly shrank. Deflated. Where I was, before I was pulled aside, emotionally and spiritually was not the same as when I returned. All because someone said something that wasn't hurtful, but made me feel exposed and vulnerable. Like I had to justify who I was and the situation I was in, even though I didn't. To his credit, the facilitator just wanted to check things out and I should appreciate this - and I do. But afterwards, I couldn't help but think he was looking at me differently and it bothered me. And then I didn't like that it bothered me. Shame spiral.


Yes, performance anxiety can get the best of the neurotic. I wish I didn't care so much about what others think of me. I know its in MY head. Some people are relaxed and don't over-think the doctor's office or any other situation with human beings. I admire that they don't care what others think. They are completely themselves and comfortable with that. Naturally, people are drawn to these folks. Its like that saying "The moment you let go of trying to be in control, you're actually IN control." Logical. Admirable. Hard to do.


Maybe this performance anxiety is rather selfish. After all, the focus is continually on ME. As if there's not anything wrong with anyone else! Performance anxiety assumes that the result of your actions will have a drastic and permanent impact on the rest of your life. That others will forever be disappointed or fooled or their expectations shattered. So what if that DID happen? How would that feel? If I didn't care, wouldn't the energy spent on this negativity and judgement now lie with the other people and not with me - since I wouldn't care? Wouldn't I be free of that emotional burden? And if other people don't care, are not judgemental or disillusioned, then where is the problem? Win-win.

Again, logical and admirable, but hard to do for the neurotic.

A Mindful Belly

Tonight I went to my first "stress reduction and mindfulness" class. There are about 20 - 22 people in the class. This was the first week (one class a week). The class will include meditations, yoga, walking meditation, and some other stuff. I've always wanted to learn how to meditate and do it effectively. I've tried at home on my own and with guided meditations on CD, but it didn't feel authentic. I wasn't patient. I didn't stay with it and I wasn't sure I was doing it right. Given my recent bout with stress, anxiety, and depression, this class was suggested and it took every ounce of courage to commit myself (no pun intended) to going. Its once a week all summer.


GETTING TO KNOW YOU

We started with introductions – our name, what we did (job), why we’re there, what we like about ourselves. I kept rehearsing and rehearsing what I would say. Over and over and over again. How I’d say it. How I wanted to appear to the class. Guarding myself carefully, not sure what I wanted to reveal or how much. I was anxious about public speaking, as usual. The instructor said he wanted us to share a little more than typical intros – not too much, but do not gloss over them.


I was shocked at how people introduced themselves, from the very start. Almost everyone mentioned depression as a reason they were there. Some shared the details of their depression. People also mentioned some physical ailments, recent deaths in the family, marriage, stress, jobs, wanting connections. Their introductions totally disarmed me. What I wanted to say for my own intro changed after each person introduced themselves. I could identify with so many of these people, their story and struggles, that I almost lost it several times. I was taken aback and yet grateful they were sharing their intimate stories - and they just jumped in and trusted the audience. There seemed to be little apprehension. Because this was so intense, intimate, and personal (it took guts to share), I looked directly at each person, making eye contact, showing respect, nodding, supporting them, not judging, conveying a hug and acceptance from across the room, appreciating their honesty and forthrightness, admiring them for being vulnerable with us. And yet I was freaking out about what I was going to say. Ironic that the thought of speaking in my stress reduction class stressed me out. I didn't want to appear vulnerable. It was okay for them, not for me. I wanted to be controlled, to keep it together. I kept repeating what I wanted to share, to say, but it was a moving target. What would sound good? Rehearsing. Why can't I do this simple thing without making it a performance? This is supposed to be a "performance free zone". I wanted to cry hearing their experiences, identifying with them, appreciating their vulnerability. And yet, I didn’t want to cry for myself (I wouldn't let myself). Why do I care if they see me cry? During their introductions, most people appeared calm, spoke clearly, audibly. It seemed easy. They took time. They were articulate. Not me.

I rushed it. Or, at least I felt I did. Rehashing. I stammered over my words feeling stupid, fearing I looked scared and nervous. I was. My voice quivered. I said that, like others in the room, I’m here because of depression, that I had no idea what I did for a living – it’s a new job, 6 months into it, it makes little sense to me, and I’m doing something that’s really stressful for me because of my own pressure to perform. Of course, I didn’t say it that eloquently. Rehashing. I also mentioned that I was looking forward to learning how to be with my body, quirks and all, curves and all. That I wanted to learn how to acknowledge it and not judge. To watch the thoughts go by. To be mindful but not judgemental. I'm so self-critical. Its like I have my own dream catcher except it catches self criticism instead. I shared that I have poor body image. There was so much more that had gone through my head when I was rehearsing that I wanted to say, but didn't. Rehashing. Feeling I need to interrupt others to make sure I got it all in - I didn't. I wanted to share how I need to learn how to cope better – to stop compartmentalizing and distracting myself. The one thing I said that I liked about myself was that I was a good dancer (I think people laughed at this because everyone else mentioned a part of their character), and added that I thought I was compassionate. What I didn’t explain was that I was compassionate with others, but not myself – which is so true (ironic). Really wish I had stated this irony (sounded so contradictory).

The lady next to me, I had not met her or seen her before, started to introduce herself and started to cry. I was glad she cried. She did what I wanted to. Does that make me a bad person? That I was relieved? Here I was just telling the group that I was compassionate and I’m watching her cry and struggle. So I did a quick rub of her back (it came from me, though, not because of what I had just said or how I appeared - although I was glad that others saw me reach out). She is also in a new job 6 months and feels all alone - because of the culture of her job.

FIRE IN THE BELLY

After intros – which took almost 90 minutes, we did a body scan meditation. It seemed to take 20 minutes – maybe more. This was my first. The idea is to be mindful of your body and not to judge it, but simply acknowledge it, the feelings, the emotions, etc. You basically focus on your body, various parts and work your way around. I’ve heard of this type of meditation, I know people go in and out of watching their breath, being distracted, that people find meditation powerful – but I didn’t really understand. In fact, I was frustrated with my own previous efforts. This one was hard. I was fine until the meditation got to my belly. I could barely keep from whaling aloud. Tears streamed down my face, I bit my lip, and tried to return to my breath, but it was difficult. The instructor was guiding us and talked about how some people said they had issues with body image – that the source for some of that might be in the belly. As we feel our bellies, be compassionate with our bodies/bellies, do not judge it, just be aware – acknowledge the feeling. That’s all that was being asked. So simple. I couldn’t do it. I was angry. I was frustrated. I was shaking. My stomach instantly contracted and quivered as I tried to keep from crying aloud. I found it hard to breathe, to catch my breath. I heard my inner voice screaming. I don't accept this! I refuse to acknowledge my body!! My fat. My shape. My belly. I reject you! I cannot offer the same compassion I can give to others. Tears streaked down my face. I didn’t wipe them away – I wasn’t sure if was supposed to or if I was supposed to feel them, letting them role down my chin and neck.

After the meditation, I was sad, worn out, and muscles sore. This was surprising to me, yet not. The meditation was like a workout. It WAS powerful. Who knew? Maybe I did it right. Maybe not. Rehashing. But I do know that I left feeling wiped out and sad. I’m supposed to do one of these scans every night. God help me.

Chatty Fatty - The Intro

OK, OK, I'm a follower....I'm blogging now, too. Thought I'd create a space for writing down my personal thoughts and sharing them with you. BECAUSE I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO KNOW ALL ABOUT ME....AFTER ALL...ITS ALWAYS ALL ABOUT ME...Its gonna get messy. Its going to be a wild ride. I'm neurotic, fat, short, out of shape, an extrovert (mostly), silly, analytical, hard on myself, witty, lonely, opinionated, etc. I have no idea what I'll be sharing, but I'll try to be as honest as I can. Why not? I'm just sharing it with millions of people (potentially). Whose to judge?