In and Out

Breathe with me... in, and out. 
In, and out. 
Again in, and out... 
Now out some more, 
out, 
all the way out, 
out til it hurts, 
then keep breathing out.

Life has rhythms. The tide has to come in before it can go out, you have to fill a dish before you can empty it, you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of others. That last one seems to be my lesson this life time.

I thought I'd learned after the psycho-ex, after the man-child, after the lump, but still I give too much too often and leave myself empty and running on fumes. There's no longer an anchor, a leech, or a vampire... now it's all me.

I'm saying yes to more than I can handle. I'm helping everyone under the sun except me. I'm making sure loved ones eat and sleep regularly, while ignoring my own physical needs. I'm putting on a brave face and powering through, when all I really want to do is sleep for a week solid.

Taking stock today: I haven't eaten enough the past few days, when I do eat it's usually junk, I'm dehydrated, I haven't been sleeping well, my bedroom's a disaster which keeps me from relaxing fully in it, I even haven't gotten to updating the address on my health-card yet.

This is not good.

I thrive when all my ducks are lined up neat and tidy. This chaos just breeds more chaos. I feel exhausted. I forget things. I feel too lazy to do the little tidying things that makes my room so much more comfortable. I'm too lazy to make food so I eat little besides what mom makes so I get even more tired. This is not a good spiral to be in. I want off this ride.

I kept telling myself that this month was a wash. Just power through and get-shit-done and next month I'll take the time to take care of my food, exercise, organization, social, and introspection needs.

That was a crappy plan.

Tomorrow's the clean-up of the old house. If I can I'm going to nap this afternoon, cuddle up with my sweetheart this evening, and spend most of Sunday taking care of my stuff so I can start the new week with less stress and more energy.

Lessons From Childhood - Changing

My eyes change colour. They're usually a blue, sometimes a green, and only grey when I'm uber ticked off. 

Some people find this mystical, others think I'm making it up, for a few years as a tween I considered it a natural talent I could hone, I'm currently of the opinion its an involuntary blood vessel/light refraction thing. During the time I thought I could learn to control it, I had a dream. 

~In the dream I was standing in my bathroom, staring in the mirror over the sink, practising changing the colour of my eyes. Blue, to green, to grey, back to blue. It got easier as I tried til I was bored and confidant I could switch to any of those three with just a thought and minor push of will. Then I realized I hadn't tried brown yet. 

I tried just as I had with the other colours, willing my eyes to change but nothing happened. Getting frustrated I put as much pressure as I could behind it trying to force the change... then I felt the pressure pop and was filled with that slightly ill feeling of an injury that just occurred and you don't want to look at cause it doesn't hurt yet and you don't really want to know how bad it is.

Slowly I looked up... my eyes were blue, except for one hard edged wedge of vibrant medium brown. Looking at it I knew that the section of brown was always going to be there, and that I had completely destroyed my ability to willingly change my eye colour forever.

~

I know it was "just" a dream, but ever since I've thought of the brown representing any knowledge or skill, and the overall dream meaning I shouldn't push/hurry my personal growth or learning process. 

The reason all this came back to me is that I happened to look in the mirror today, and found that my eyes have been changing over the years. I now have a golden brown ring around the pupil. Maybe by the time I'm old and wise my eyes will be as vibrantly brown as my mother's.


(edit: Mom corrected me. She has the brown, dad has the blue.)

Our main skill seems to be ignoring

Human beings are fascinating creatures. We have high functioning brains, fairly decent senses, and the ability to empathize... And yet our most glorious feature seems to be the fact that we can ignore things.

Consciously or unconsciously we ignore not just most, but I'd say 85-90% of our lives. No one pays attention to the details if breathing in and out, or the texture and placement of every article of clothing,  or even all the sights and sounds of the world around us, let alone all the concepts and constructs around us.

Now this isnt a bad thing. I don't think we could get anything done if we had to pay attention to everything. I try to picture living aware of everything we sense... its what I imagine hard drugs are like. We'd be sitting starring into space, unable to put two words together. Brain overloaded, no processing power to even think "wow this is a lot".

Unfortunately, it's not all good. This power to ignore means we often can create internal narratives that outweigh the real world in our brain as the truth. That sort of thinking leads to abuse, racism,  classism, stalkers,  etc.

As with everything else, it's important to use what tools you have for good,  and carefully shun overuse to avoid the negative side.

Lessons From Childhood - Drowning

A friend and I were probably about 10 years old and were swimming at the public pool. We had decided to play lifeguard and "rescue" each other. I was the lifeguard first and she did the standard "help help save me" routine high out of the water with arms flailing so I jumped in and dragged her to the side. All good. 

A few minutes later was my turn to get rescued so I swam out into the middle and splashed a little but let myself sink so my mouth was level with the water letting it in and spitting it out and generally having fun inside my brain marvelling at how I can look like I'm drowning and still be in full control/safe. 

... That's when a strong arm wrapped around me and in less than 10 seconds I was sitting on the edge of the pool. The lifeguard asked me a bunch of questions like how long I had been swimming and if I usually stay in the shallow end, etc. I was spun around mentally by the game becoming reality, and I was so embarrassed about making the lifeguard dive in, and I was certain he was going to kick me out. I felt like I was drowning for real this time but drowning in embarrassment and confusion. I just couldn't tell him it was all a game and see that disappointment. It would be too much.

Instead, I said that I do usually swim in the deep end, and I don't know what the problem was, and no I didn't have a cramp, and sorry for being so much trouble. That's when he asked me if maybe I just got a bit over tired. I latched onto that lifeline and vehemently agreed that must have been the problem and thanks again and sorry for being so much trouble and I'll be much more careful next time. 

I got sent to the shallow end for the rest of the day but now that I'm older... I wonder if he knew.