Equipped (Blog #1068)

Currently it’s 8:15 PM. Tomorrow I have to get up super-duper early, so I’m hoping to keep this short. Not that I’m convinced I’ll be able to fall asleep by 10 PM, but I’m sure going to try.

By taking Benadryl.

Today I’ve been thinking about money. (I’ll explain.) Yesterday I mentioned that I devoted one of my recent EMDR sessions to money because the topic, and the actual thing, have historically made me squirm. Well, this afternoon I took some change to the bank to convert to cash, and damn if the automated machine in the lobby didn’t stop counting somewhere in the middle of all my change. The whole time still taking my money. “It says your total is $76.23,” the lady behind the counter said when I called her over.

“It really should be closer to $125,” I said, explaining the situation.

Well, the next thing I knew the branch manager got involved and said they’d have to audit the machine. Which they did over the course of–I don’t know–the next hour. “I need to go buy a mower for my parents,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

Then I added, “Before I go, can you break a twenty?”

Of course, they could.

The thing being that I needed two tens, well, one ten to pay for the mower, an item I found on Facebook earlier today as a replacement for my parents’ mower that seriously crapped out last summer. “Will you take five dollars less?” I asked the seller.

“Sure,” he said. And he even helped me load it.

When I got back to the bank, they still weren’t done with the audit. So I waited. Finally, they came up with the total: $123.50.

Before EMDR, both the situation at the bank and the thought of price dickering with the lawn mower seller would have made me twitchy nervous. But in both instances today, I was like, whatever, nobigdeal. At the bank I thought, This is inconvenient, but shit happens and they’re working on it. However it turns out, I’m going to be okay. When trying to bargain over the lawnmower, I just acted on instinct. “Offer five dollars less,” something inside me said. So I did, reasoning, If he says no, I’m willing to walk away. My therapist says this is absolutely necessary when buying and selling, a sense of non-urgency, an air of neutrality. Like, I don’t HAVE to have it. Then you can remain clearheaded and weigh your options.

For so long I was plagued by a feeling of loss and scarcity. Just weeks ago the thought of losing fifty dollars to a bank’s change machine or five dollars in a business deal would have sent the “there’s not enoughs” all over me. More and more I believe, really believe, that, as a former boss used to say, there’s more where that came from. That God and the universe may taketh away at times, but they also giveth in great supply. Over and over and over again. For example, even when I’ve been short on cash, I’ve never missed a meal for any reason other than my choice. Not once in thirty-nine years. And I know millions of people have.

Talk about counting your blessings.

One of my big revelations lately is that I have everything I need. By this I don’t mean that I have all the money in the world or that every physical ache or pain I have is under control. Rather, I mean that I have everything I need inside of me. To think on my feet. To figure things out. To provide for myself. To make it through this world with what I’ve been given. In terms of smarts, instincts, and inner and outer resources. This knowing is huge, that you’ve shown up on this planet with all you require. That you’ve come equipped with the wisdom to live and to survive, that you don’t have to find it in a book somewhere. Not that I’m against books. I’m all for learning. But a book can’t make you comfortable in your own skin or give you peace in your heart. A book can’t give you confidence. Only your Self do that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Each season has something to offer.

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On Being Confident and Enough (Blog #949)

Last week, from Sunday evening until Tuesday at noon, I fasted for forty consecutive hours, and since it went so well (I lost 4.2 pounds and reached my lowest weight since I don’t know when), I’m doing it again. Last night at eight I stopped eating, and I haven’t eaten all day today. And whereas I’ve been hungry, only water and green tea have passed my lips. Granted, I’ve been tempted. This afternoon my aunt offered me a bowl of chili, and I almost dove headfirst into the pot. But, having seen good results with what I’ve done thus far (I’ve lost a total of eleven pounds as of this morning), I’m too motivated to continue to quit.

This last week, honestly, I probably ate “worse” than I have since I started my one-year-to-forty health plan seven weeks ago. For example, this weekend was full of carbs–I inhaled tacos, pasta, a huge cheeseburger and fries, AND pancakes (with peanut butter, butter, and syrup). Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Now I’m starving. Anyway, despite my indulgences, when I weighed this morning I was still down 3.8 pounds from a week ago and only up .4 pounds from my lowest (after last week’s fast). I assume this is because my body’s metabolism is changing and also because whenever I indulged I made my next meal a light snack. Saint Augustine said, “Love, and do what you will.” I say, “Find balance, and eat what you will.”

But seriously, pancakes with peanut butter.

This afternoon I saw my chiropractor who works with emotions and their physical manifestation, and we dove into an issue that used to plague me quite a bit but hasn’t plagued me in a while–hives. During our conversation, my chiropractor asked how having hives made me feel. Panicked, out of control, I thought. (In his method, you don’t have to verbalize your answers). Then he asked me to go back to the first time I felt that way. Thinking of a time when I was about five or six, I said, “Got it.” Then he said, “If you could have felt any other way [besides panicked or out of control], what would that have been?”

“The word that keeps coming to mind is confident,” I said.

Well, me must have hit on something true because when I left my chiropractor’s office and climbed in my car, I began repeating to myself out loud, I am confident, and ended up crying. So often I think my entire intuitive and healing system is broken, but moments like this one remind me that it’s not. Likewise, the fact that I can stick to a dietary plan and lose weight reminds me that I am not the exception to the rules of health and healing. My body (inside and out) was made to work.

Getting back to the idea of confidence, this is what I’m talking about. Sometimes when you’ve faced one disappointment after another, you start to question whether you’ve got what it takes to get by in this world. You start to think that relationships, success, and healing are for everyone else but not for you. But the truth is anything can happen to any of us. We all have our challenges. We all have our triumphs. Things can turn–either way–on a dime. More and more I believe we all have “the stuff” to handle whatever comes our way.

Something else I’ve been thinking about today centers around the idea of reaching your goals. For example, seven weeks ago I set a goal to lose ten to fifteen pounds, and–technically–I’m there. Now, this doesn’t mean I’m finished eating well and fasting once a week, since my original goal was to maintain a certain weight and size and–also–work out consistently for a year and see what happens. God knows I’ve seen what happens when I DON’T eat well and exercise. But my point is that part of me is never satisfied. I lose ten pounds and instead of celebrating I immediately think it needs to be twenty, which simply isn’t reasonable for me. Thus, nothing is ever good enough. I’m never good enough.

My therapist says that getting what you want is scary, that her office is full of people who say they want a different body or better relationship, and as soon as they come close to actually getting one, find a way to sabotage it. They binge on a bucket of ice cream. They flake out our cheat on Mr. or Miss Right. They shoot themselves in the foot. In effect, they prove to themselves that what they want doesn’t exist or is beyond their reach. This has been true in my experience. I’m so used to struggling (in terms of healing, for example), it’s easier to think my goals are unattainable than to think they are attainable and NOT reach them.

Thankfully, this attitude is changing for me. In terms of my body, I’m believing more and more that “this is good enough,” that I don’t have to be the perfect weight, have the perfect cholesterol. There’s no such thing. There’s simply how you are right here, right now, and are you going to love yourself or not? Over two and a half years ago I set out on a journey to blog every day for a year. Well, I did it, and my goal became to blog every day for two years, which I also did. Now the current goal is to blog every day for three years, and I’m telling myself that’s gotta be it–not matter what else I have to say, no matter how many people have or haven’t read it, no matter whether or not the project seems successful to myself or others. At some point, you stop struggling. You give it up. You surrender. After you’ve done all you can do, you let go of the results.

Whatever the results are, they’re enough. You’re enough.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When you hide your hurt, you can’t help but pass it on. It ends up seeping, sometimes exploding out.

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