Undoing Conditioning

Moving Gently

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Often, when I reflect on what I want out of my life, the phrase moving gently surfaces. The idea of moving gently is so contrary to the way I have formerly moved and to the way in which we are often conditioned in this society that it has taken me time and much practice to realize this gentle movement in my life. Now, when I am able to sink into this gentle movement it feels natural, nourishing, and life-giving. In the times when life throws me back into situations where gentle is either not possible or difficult to attain, I feel violated and as if my life force is being sucked out of my being. This contrast encourages me to choose gentle movement wherever I am able and to free myself of those things that don’t allow for gentle.

Moving gently brings up images for me of the Bronte sisters and Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women – Victorian women (albeit privileged) who lived in a time when quiet reading, long walks in the moors, the needle arts, and writing were honored as time well-spent. Moving gently also brings up thoughts of medieval nuns like Hildegard of Bingen whose lives were defined by prayer, tending their gardens, providing counsel, caring for the sick, and completing the daily tasks of running a monastery.

These images provide but a glimpse of all the aforementioned lives required, but it is the energy-sense of these images, much more than the literal truth of them that provides food for thought and seeds for discernment.

Moving gently is about having a felt-sense of gentle and choosing this wherever possible in ones life. It is about measuring each experience and encounter and comparing it to what gentle feels like. Then it is about choosing what measures up and discarding the rest. As it turns out, choosing to move gently has application in all areas of my life. Here are some real-life examples:

Exercise: I used to be a gym rat, spending hours a week forcing my body into a size six form through vigorous exercise and weight lifting. Now, I relish in the gentle movements of yoga and Chi Qong. I’m no longer a size six (thank you menopause), but I feel good in my body.

The Drive to Succeed: I spent the vast majority of my life driving, striving, and forcing myself into the western world’s definition of success. I drove myself to be number one in my class. I sought positions that dangled the money carrot. I followed all the rules of SEO marketing and professional networking to try to be a success in my own business. Now, I do none of these. Instead, I listen deeply to my soul and when I feel called to work, I do.  When things come to me that feel life-giving, I receive them. I create what I want to create and leave the rest to God. Somehow it always works out – often by the skin of my teeth, but it works out.

Popularity and People-Pleasing: (puke emoji). I used to believe it was my job to make other people happy. Formerly, I worked hard at being friendly, outgoing, welcoming, and approachable. I wanted people to like me, and I would change and adapt in the hopes of getting other people’s approval. No more. Now, I am me. If people don’t like me, that’s more a reflection of them than it is of me. Instead of wanting to be popular, I now prefer to be unknown and unseen. In my mind, I like to think of my invisibility as the Diana Prince to the Wonder Woman hidden underneath. I no longer need to wave the banner of my magic to get people’s attention. If my gifts are meant for them, they will find me.

The Use of My Time: Formerly, my time was put toward efforts that I hoped would produce popularity, money, fame, even power. Now, my time is spent gently. If I have nothing “to do,” I spend my time in prayer and contemplation. I seek out opportunities for learning. I read and study. I read for enjoyment. I move my body gently. I feed my body simply. I enjoy quietude. I listen to music. I spend time with friends. I work with clients when the opportunities present themselves. I moderate student discussion in my online classes. I facilitate a weekly meditation circle. I tend to the responsibilities of my “chop wood and carry water” job. I pay my bills. I carry my love out into the world. I no longer engage in debate. I have freed myself from trying to convince anyone of anything. I have released resentment. I have let go of my need to fix, change, or save the world and the people within it.

I’m not saying it’s perfect. But identifying my soul’s need to move gently and going about the process of making this choice, I feel more peaceful and content than I have ever felt in my life. Oh yes, I sometimes stray from this and my battle armor is always close at hand, but at least I know what my soul prefers and that the freedom to choose gentle is almost always there.

No Longer Human Functioning

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I came to the full realization this weekend that I can no longer function as a human being. I’m not sure if this is a function of age and wisdom – coming to know myself more fully and wanting to honor what resonates with and reflects who I am, or if I am finally willing to accept the fact that I am not, in fact, human. Likely it’s a both/and.

With what I know about myself and what I see in the actions of most humans, I don’t know how I could possibly be one of them. Instead, I feel more like an alien species that was dropped on this planet and forced to live among strangers. Never, in my entire life have I wanted what human beings seem to want, and if I did, I wasn’t being honest with myself, or I didn’t know myself well enough to understand that what many humans want would kill me.

And yet, I have spent most of my “human” incarnation, agreeing to the rules human beings seem to have set out for themselves and instead of receiving what has been promised for living by these rules, I have only ever gotten sick – physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Humanity’s rules, it seems, are toxic to me, and I’ve had several recent reminders of how sick I become when trying to live by what is expected of other human beings. So, instead of continuing to force myself to comply with humanity’s rules and standards, I’m accepting the fact that what would be called “normal human functioning” is no longer available to me – if it ever was.

For the sake of my own wellbeing, and in acknowledgement of my true alien nature, I no longer consent to the rules of humanity that are toxic to me and will only live my life in the way that feels natural to me.

What comes naturally to me is a quiet, gentle life where I am free to do what feels life-giving to me. What feels life giving to me is meditation and prayer, supporting others with my gifts in a way that empowers and for which my gifts are received and for which I am appropriately compensated, time for learning and study, peaceful enjoyment, one-on-one time with close friends, and rest. In other words – a simple life. If this desire for a simple life makes me an alien, then I guess that’s what I am.

It’s Not My Job to Save the World

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Before I dive into this reflection, I want to state that in no way, shape, or form, is this reflection definitive. Instead, it is part of an ongoing exploration of perceived mission, purpose, and calling. In this reflection, the central focus of the quandary is around what it means to be an empath and how we are, or are not, called to use this gift.

In the world of pop culture spirituality, the word empath has been increasingly tossed around. Some, including me, have jumped on the bandwagon, taking empath as a title, as well as a superpower, and in doing so, waving the banner of the special nature of this gift.

Is being an empath a superpower? Is it a gift Divinely imparted to those special few who are called to “hear the cries of the world,” who then employ their equally special gifts of healing to save the broken world?

Or is being an empath a defense mechanism that we developed so that we might carve out a safe place for ourselves in an otherwise violent world?

Ultimately, I believe the ability to feel the emotional state of those around us, along with the expanded sense of empathy that allows us to feel global phenomenon (like collective fear, approaching storms, pending earthquakes, solar flares, etc.) is a function of both nature and nurture. It seems to be true that some people are born with heightened sensitivities. There is also a strong argument for empathy as a developed skill born out of our own need to be safe.

Regarding the latter, further developing the empathic abilities that may have already been within me, has proved immeasurably helpful. It has given me the ability to sense danger, to read people’s emotions and intentions, to know when someone is a safe person to be around, and when one is pure evil. Being an empath has also helped me in interpersonal relationships – especially with those for whom I care, because it allows me to sense when they are upset, disturbed, angry, etc. which then allows for a healthy and helpful conversation. It allows me to intuitively know when someone might need support, but maybe doesn’t know how to ask.

There is a place for being an empath in my life that has shown itself to be healthy and helpful.

There is also a place where being an empath has gotten me in trouble.

We live in a culture (and I am of a gender) in which we are conditioned to be co-dependent. We are told it’s our job to make other people happy, to be a champion for the voiceless, to fight against injustice, and ultimately….to save the world. Being an empath without proper boundaries can feed this co-dependency, making us believe we are some sort of champion for the downtrodden, and savior of the world. The gift of empathy can further give us the feeling of being special or set apart from others, thereby feeding our ego and our pride.

Empathy is a gift, but it can also be a curse. For one thing, I’m not sure it’s safe or good for us to feeeeeeeel everything!  I know it’s not good for me. Feeling everyone’s feelings, every emotion, every intention, then heap on the collective fear and violence of our world, and I am bound to short circuit – which is exactly what I did last week. It became too much. My anxiety was off the charts. I felt like a cat full of static from having been brushed the wrong way. This short-circuiting caused me reach out to my doctor who authorized an increased dosage of my sertraline which has slowly eased my sense of being flayed.  I then took some time off to rest and reflect.

In the midst of this reflection, I was reminded that it is not my job to save anyone, let alone the world. Despite all I’d been taught and conditioned to believe, the only person I have the power of saving (and even this is debatable) is myself. I can’t change other people’s behaviors. I can’t change their beliefs. There is literally nothing I can do to rescue them from the trap they have created for themselves. My experience of being an empath does nothing to help those around me (except as I mention above), and my so-called healing powers will do nothing to solve the crisis in the Middle East, or to absolve the fear and unhealed wounds that would cause someone to inflict violence on another.

The only thing I can do with the sensitivities I have, the knowledge I’ve gathered, and the wisdom I’ve gained, is to:

  1. Care for myself.
  2. Be a source of support for others seeking to care for themselves.

Period. Other people’s crises are none of my business. Another’s pain is not mine to heal. I can do nothing to force evil to become good. I can’t change the direction of the tide. Humanity is on a course of its own making and there is not a single thing I can do to fix or change it.

So for today, I’m setting aside my superhero cape, laying down my bullhorn, and stepping away from humanity’s pain so that I can place my focus where it needs to be – on myself. Only in saving myself (with God’s help) can I ever hope to be a guide and support for others who also want to save themselves.  

The Burden of Other People’s Shame

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

We live in a world that is psychologically and emotionally underdeveloped. As a result, we are continually living under the burden of other people’s unhealed wounds, unacknowledged fears, anxiety, or shame.

We are globally conditioned to accept the projections of other people’s wounds as our own, often resulting in feelings of guilt or shame for things that are not even ours to carry.

We are so conditioned by these patterns of projected blame that as I write these words, the majority of those reading might have no idea about what I’m speaking. Let me put it plainly:

When we suppress, repress, or ignore our own unacknowledged fears, anxiety, or shame, and when we deny our past wounds and trauma without doing the work of healing them, they are bound to come out sideways in actions and behaviors that are harmful to ourselves, and others, and sometimes both.

Let me provide an example of this pattern of projected blame of which I have been guilty in the past:

As a divorced mother of two, finances have often been tight. As a result, I have suffered anxiety around money. Afraid there wouldn’t be enough to pay our bills, and anxious about unexpected expenses or (not unreasonable) requests from my kids. In the early years after divorce, I often found myself snapping at my kids when they would ask for money for essential and non-essential needs, or complaining about back to school shopping and all the added expenses that came up that time of year. It wasn’t my kids’ fault that money was tight or that I was anxious about money, but I’m certain that it is possible that my reactions to expenses a) caused them to feel guilty b) may have instilled anxiety about money in them. ☹ Eventually, I caught my actions, but the damages had already been done. (Sorry M and W!) I continue to have anxiety around money and guilt when I spend money, but at least I can acknowledge it and no longer project blame over my own fear onto other innocent parties.

This is just one simple example of how we, as humans, project blame, guilt, shame, anxiety, on to other innocent parties, instead of taking the time to identify our own wounds, acknowledge them, cease from making them someone else’s fault, and do the deep inner work of healing them so that we are a) no longer doing harm to ourselves and b) no longer doing harm to others.

I’m convinced that these unacknowledged fears, shame, guilt, past traumas, etc. are the cause of every single conflict in our world, from the simplest misunderstanding between friends to the global catastrophes of war.

As it relates to war, here’s another easy example. The holocaust of World War II was wholly a result of Hitler’s Germany needing a scapegoat from the traumas of WWI. The easy scapegoat was a race of people that unwittingly became the projection of these unhealed wounds. 6 million people were violently imprisoned and killed because of these projected wounds. One race of people made to carry the blame for another group of people’s shame, grief, fear, etc. Fast forward to today, and the recipients of that projection (Benjamin Netanyahu and his followers) are now projecting their own unhealed wounds by enacting their own holocaust against the Palestinians.

Unhealed wounds of shame, guilt, anxiety, trauma, etc. projected outward simply create more of the same. Wound begets wound. Shame begets shame. Hatred fosters hatred. Unhealed trauma is likely to cause trauma to another.

Let me make this really personal by asking a few questions:

  • When have other people blamed you for their anger, impatience, frustration, etc., saying that it is somehow YOUR fault that they are feeling that way?
  • How often have you been blamed for other people’s failures?
  • When have you been made to feel ashamed for who you are and/or who you want to be?
  • When has another tried to make you the cause of their unhappiness, sense of lack, inability to be successful or to perform?
  • When did you then find yourself reacting by trying to make the other party happy, take over a task for them, rush over to ease their anger, etc.?

The truth is none of this was ever your fault. Instead, it was the other party’s inability to acknowledge and take responsibility for their own SHIT.

The conflicts between human beings will never be resolved until we begin to take responsibility for our own shame, unhealed wounds, etc. and stop making it everyone else’s problem. While we cannot control what other people (or nations) might do, we can begin this healing by taking responsibility for ourselves and we can start that work today.

We can also stop taking responsibility for other people’s blame.

What Privilege Taught Me to Believe

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

and how those beliefs were undone

I didn’t grow up wealthy, but I did grow up privileged. I was born white to middle class parents, raised in a predominantly white third-generation neighborhood of white-collar professionals and tradesmen. In most of the homes around us, the men worked, and the mothers stayed home. The children were feral and unsupervised, only because everyone believed we were safe. We had a roof over our head, three square homecooked meals a day, new clothing (unless you were a younger sibling), and a basement full of toys. We enjoyed piano and dance lessons. Our parents sent us to private school.

Life was good and in that state of perceived safety and abundance, we believed in the promise of “The American Dream” – a good education and hard work was the path to success and the harder you worked, the more successful you would become. We were also taught that welfare was for lazy people and we should judge them and treat them accordingly. There was a clear dividing line between us (hard workers) and them.  And a not-so-subtle dividing line between us (white people) and them (people of color).

All of this happened along side a devout Catholic upbringing. God was the old man in the sky. We were undeserving of God’s love. God’s love had to be earned and could be taken away. And abortion was a mortal sin. We were even invited to join the school’s “Pro-Life” club from whom we would get a bright shiny silver bracelet marking us as “soldiers of Christ” in the war against abortion (this was all on the heels of Roe vs. Wade). As a young adult, I volunteered at a pro-life “clinic” for women facing unexpected pregnancies.

In addition to all of this: we were raised Republican. We were told Republicans were good and were looking out for the good of the people and that Democrats were communists – and that was bad! I remember knock down drag ‘em out fights between certain family members who (gasp) belonged on different ends of the political spectrum. The Democrats were good people, but clearly delusional – at least that’s what we were led to believe.

In college (YES!  I attended university, which was mostly paid for by my parents – another privilege), I joined a sorority (more privilege), continued attending mass and attended adult faith formation classes. I voted for Ronald Reagan, and later, for George H. W. Bush.

Other than being a brunette, I was the stereotypical white girl of privilege.

But then, life happened.

My previous stance on abortion was the first thing to go. In the volunteer position, I witnessed first-hand the violent tactics often used by the Pro-life movement in dissuading women from seeking an abortion. There was no compassion shown, only judgment, accompanied by violent and graphic images of late-term abortions. There was a reason I wasn’t allowed into the “counseling” room at the clinic. Additionally, with over 40% of pregnancies being unplanned, I was bound to eventually meet a young woman, likely a friend, who would have to face a sometimes-difficult choice. As statistics would have it – I did – come to know of several friends who at one time had to face an unplanned pregnancy. Further, I knew of several who had no choice but to seek the termination of the pregnancy for medical issues related to either the baby, or their own survival. Abortion, it turned out, wasn’t so black and white.  How could I judge a woman (or a couple) who was having to face the most difficult decision of their life – one that would stay with them their whole life. The decision to terminate a pregnancy (no matter what the circumstances) is a wound that does not heal.  It changes, but the pain will always be there on some level. Compassion told me to put myself in the others’ shoes and support them through a very difficult decision. And to understand that at any point, I could find myself in a similar position forced to make a similar difficult choice.

The second thing that went was my belief in the American Dream. The first of this leaving happened in my own professional journey. Sheepskin in hand, I went out looking for work. And this is a FACT – not once in my 40 years of being in the post-college workforce have I made more than $26,000 per year.  NEVER.  Not once.  This was not for lack of effort, work, skills, or abilities. Now at a ripe almost 60, it is not for lack of education, experience, or expertise. The universe has imposed some sort of invisible ceiling between myself and money – never even surpassing (which was also the big privileged promise) the salary of my father.

Hard work and a college education, as it turns out, is NOT a guaranteed path to wealth.

No matter how much someone else wants to tell you otherwise.

Then I experienced poverty. Thankfully not poverty of the sort that far too many suffer, but I have faced an enduring period of financial struggle – the likes of which has had me utilizing some of those so-called “communist” programs. I have received rental assistance and energy assistance. I qualified for Food Stamps and could have been using the Food Pantry (I chose to use neither, but at a grave consequence to me financially – eventually leading to bankruptcy). I have enjoyed the profound benefits of the Affordable Healthcare Act – in fact, my life depends on it. Finally, I am on an income-based repayment plan for my graduate school student loans (if anyone wants to argue with me about student loan forgiveness, DON’T!!!!!  I will direct you straight to Matt Taibbi and his expose’ on the criminal nature of the student loan industry!!!!!) 

Beyond my own personal experience, I have witnessed hundreds, if not thousands struggling with similar or much worse circumstances. I have seen, through clear eyes, that the so-called “American Dream” is a lie and that there are, indeed, systemic obstacles to Americans realizing that dream. This fact of reality breaks my heart and inspires me to share my own journey beyond the lies that come with privilege.

As it relates to Catholicism.  This may be the biggest irony of them all. I have always been a woman of faith (whatever that means). I was a devout Catholic until the local Church made it clear I was no longer welcome. Jesus is my teacher and Mary Magdalene has become a guide. I sometimes pray the rosary and turn to Michael the Archangel in times of anxiety. I cherish my Catholic upbringing – for good and bad – but mostly, for what I learned about social justice:

Jesus calls us to love.  Period. And he was quite clear about what love looked like:

  • Judge not lest ye be judged.
  • Love your neighbor as yourself.
  • Everyone is your neighbor.
  • Welcome immigrants and foreigners.
  • Feed the hungry.
  • Set prisoners and captives free.
  • Clothe the naked.
  • Heal the sick.
  • Give sight to the blind.
  • Welcome “the other” to your table.
  • If someone asks for your cloak, give them your shirt as well.
  • Love one another.  Period.

As it turns out, it is my faith that has called me to depart from the politics in which I was once immersed and toward a political stance that supports the needs of the all. As my own life has shown me, even privilege does not guarantee that life will provide us with what we need. It has also shown me that by our own efforts, our own needs may not necessarily be met. There’s a little story in scripture that seems to provide a solution to this quandary:

All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. (Acts 2: 44-45)

If a sharing among the common good was good enough for Jesus and his earliest disciples, then it’s good enough for me. This is what love has taught me.

Not Everything is a Trigger

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

The other day I was accused of having been “triggered” by a comment that was shared on Facebook. According to definition, a trigger is:

a stimulus that elicits a reaction. In the context of mental illness, “trigger” is often used to mean something that brings on or worsens symptoms. This often happens to people with a history of trauma or who are recovering from mental illness, self-harm, addiction, and/or eating disorders.  (https://campushealth.unc.edu/)

What I experienced was not a trigger. Instead, it was something else entirely.

Here’s what happened. Someone on Facebook initiated a post that said, “if you have to refill your prescription, this is proof it’s not working.”  The post then went on to suggest that there was some alternative path that would cure the condition for which one is taking a pharmaceutical medication.

First of all, this statement is medically incorrect. Secondly, I find it dangerous and irresponsible for someone who calls themselves a medical practitioner to make these kinds of claims. As one who relies on certain pharmaceuticals for my survival, I felt compelled to share my personal experience. That is all I did.  I didn’t tell them they were wrong. I didn’t slander or insult them.  I simply stated that in my personal experience, and for me personally, prescription medication is often helpful and sometimes necessary. I then explained my condition (polycystic kidney disease), along with all the alternative and wholistic treatments that I have and continue to utilize, thereby providing an integrated approach to my care. I am a sound advocate of authentic wholistic treatments and practitioners of these modalities. I also recognize that allopathic medicine has its place and is necessary in some (many) cases.

The person who initiated the post replied by dismissing what I said and then accusing me of being triggered. “I see you’ve been triggered.”

NO, I was not triggered!  I simply shared my own personal experience.

Not everything is a trigger!

Trigger has become a hot topic in social media and elsewhere. The benefit is that as a society we have become increasingly aware of and sensitive to the fact that people have suffered trauma and that there are events, experiences, etc. that can illicit a trauma response that can prove harmful to the individual trying to recover from past traumas. The drawback is that there seems to be a growing trend of people throwing around the word “trigger” like rice at a wedding. Some use it to escape responsibility. Others use it to dismiss another’s experience. Some use it to feed their inner victim. Trigger as a clinical term is most appropriately used in the context of trauma and really should not be used in any other way.

Beyond the clinical definition, trigger may simply be understood as something that elicits an emotional response. As much as a trigger can arise out of trauma, it can also arise simply to get our awareness (though I wouldn’t really call it a trigger, instead, simply the body signaling for us to pay attention).  Case in point, I had no trauma reaction to the pharmaceutical post, but what I did have was a clear and definite spark from my truth barometer.

Our truth barometer is the deep inner sense within us that alerts us when something we encounter is not in alignment with our truth, or even with absolute truth.

Unfortunately, we live in a culture that beats this truth barometer out of us, rather, it conditions us in such a way that we a) have forgotten how to hear that inner sense and/or b) we have learned not to trust it. For my whole entire life, I have had a strong truth barometer, but like most, was told along the way that it was invalid, or incorrect, or that I simply couldn’t know certain things that I know. Well…I have worked long and hard to reclaim that voice and I adhere to it and trust it every single time.  Am I sometimes guilty, even now, of ignoring that voice? Absolutely!  But when it really wants my attention, it tells me.

What my truth barometer told me in the case shared above is that the information shared was incorrect, arrogant, and dangerous. I said none of this to the poster. I’m not here to change other people’s beliefs. I did, however, feel like I had a responsibility to share (for others who may have seen the post and who are equally enjoying the life-saving benefits of pharmaceuticals) my own experience. My sharing was civil and respectful. Apparently, the poster didn’t think so. Instead, she accused me of being triggered, dismissed my personal experience, and then claimed to have a cure for what ails me. In doing all of this, she effectively avoided any personal responsibility for what she shared.

So… yeah….. Not everything is a trigger. Sometimes what some might interpret as a trigger is simply our inner truth calling out bullshit!

I Care Too Much

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 6 Comments

I have a confession to make.  I talk big about cultivating the fine art of detachment and learning not to care, but in reality, I care too much. It’s a problem:

  • I care about the state of our world.
  • I care about humanity’s wellbeing.
  • I care about the lack of peace and the pervasive nature of conflict.
  • I care that some humans are truly evil and intentionally cruel.
  • I care about the health of our environment and the safety of our water and food.
  • I care about injustice.
  • I care that people are starving, homeless, without adequate medical care, living in war-torn countries where their safety is continually threatened.
  • I care that people die in unnecessary wars.
  • I care that the best humanity can come up with for resolving conflict is war.
  • I care about ignorance and the bad decisions human beings make because of a lack of verifiable information.
  • I care that there are people in the world who thrive on manipulating and abusing others.
  • I care…I care…I care…

More than all of this, I care about the people I love. I want the best for them.  I want them to be happy, healthy, well cared for, and safe. I want them to succeed in whatever they set out to do. I want them to have peace, to know contentment and to experience joy. I want them to feel loved.

The problem with caring, is that I am not in control over any of the things I care about. That drives me insane. It is excruciating to observe humanity and to see all the unnecessary violence, conflict, and hatred. It is even more difficult to watch those you love make decisions that will cause themselves or someone else harm. It is especially challenging when you have some experience in a certain area and can predict the harm that will come when one takes a certain path. This is hundred-fold true when you have a tiny bit of pre-sentience and a thousand-fold true when you are an empath, or when someone you love asks for guidance, and you give it, and they choose the exact opposite.

It actually hurts me to see some choosing certain paths. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about any of it. So I writhe in agony. I become frustrated, angry, and impatient. I get balled up in self-righteousness. My anxiety escalates and my depression deepens. Sometimes it’s so bad my PTSD is triggered. It sucks.

Then I apply every single spiritual practice I know for detaching and letting go. Sometimes it helps. More often not. Or if it does, the effects are only temporary, and I find myself right back in the place of caring.

UGH!

There are days I want to shake my fist at God: “Why did you make me care???”  There are other days I try to bargain, “Can’t you make me NOT CARE like so many people seem to do?”  Then there are the days where I make myself not care – I have to get angry to not care, and then I feel guilty and like I’m being a complete asshole.

UGH!

Caring is a curse, but I’m not sure I would want to be any other way. Someone has to give a shit!  Right!?  If I don’t care, who will? If someone doesn’t care what will come of this world?

But then I look at what we call “God.”  Does “He” even care? I sometimes think not. Instead, it seems that God leaves us to our own devices and lets the chips fall where they may – consequences, natural law, karma, and all that jazz.

If God doesn’t care, then why do I?  It’s a serious question.

Some might call caring “codependency.” Yeah, I can own that. I do care – often too much. The too much is an ebb and a flow. Better on some days than others. When I’m feeling vulnerable, or anxious, or unwell, it might be worse. When my PTSD is triggered it’s definitely worse. Unraveling from being a first-born and certain cultural conditioning is hard. Healing from childhood wounds and forced extroverted niceness (brought about by multiple moves) takes time. People pleasing and over-responsibility have to be unlearned.

It’s a journey. But as hard as I am on others, I’m a million times harder on myself. I should have this thing down by now. Right!?

WRONG!  Not even close.  Turns out I’m human, fragile, vulnerable, and imperfect and broken just like everyone else. And more than anything else, I am not in control over the fact that I am excruciatingly human – and that just kills me.

Peace is an Act of Rebellion

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

We live in a world that is driven by fear and thrives on chaos. Conflict and violence have become so much a part of life that entire economies are based on the lucrative business of war. Entire family systems have been defined by the abuse they inflict and then inhabit. The relationship paradigms we have been sold are rooted in codependency and hierarchical control. Our educational systems have lost their focus on learning and are now directed toward a definition of success that is rooted in a competition to acquire the most wealth, power, and fame. Careers are no longer centered in the search for meaningful and fulfilling work which helps to provide what a society needs to survive and thrive, but are instead geared toward making billionaires richer.

Fear, chaos, conflict, competition, violence, and abuse have become so much a part of our lives that we have come to believe that all of this is not only normal, but healthy. We shrug our shoulders and walk away when anyone dare question this status quo. “It is what it is,” we hear people say. Or things like: “it’s just how things are done, it’s what we’ve always known, I have to make a living…” And if anyone dare to offer another possibility – a life, for example, that might be peaceful, gentle, and full of ease, that person becomes a pariah – accused of being a “commie” or just plain insane.

Chaos, conflict, competition, and violence are a choice. It is one the vast majority of humanity has been making for five thousand years or more. But in the same way that conflict is a choice, so too is peace. Contrary to popular belief based on centuries of conditioning, we have the power to choose peace over conflict, collaboration over competition, ease over chaos, and gentleness over violence. But more often we don’t.  And we have to ask ourselves why.

The answer is simple. Choosing peace is an act of rebellion. When we choose peace, we are putting every single system based on fear, power, and control in question. When we choose ease, we are disturbing the status quo. When we disturb the status quo, we become a threat to those who benefit from a system based in fear, power, and control. And when we choose to be gentle, we are challenging all those who have come to belief conflict and competition are not only normal, but necessary.

Choosing peace strikes terror in the hearts of those who either benefit from fear, power, and control, or who believe that nothing else could possibly be true.

As a culture/species, we are addicted to conflict and chaos. For many, the idea of peace threatens this addiction. Because of their addiction, they seek more and more of what gives them a charge. Perhaps they know nothing other than trauma, so to them this feels normal. Maybe they are fueled by anger and resentment. Giving someone permission to choose peace threatens the drug to which they have become accustomed.

Choosing peace is an act of rebellion because of all that is threatened by this choice. AND, there is a way for humanity to choose peace, but it first has to recognize its addiction to violence (physical, mental, emotional, psychological, and spiritual violence), and take the critical steps in healing that violence. As that violence becomes healed, and the charge of addiction overcome, it is there that humanity will find its peace. In finding that peace, humanity will wonder, “What the heck was wrong with me that I would choose violence over this?” Choosing peace then becomes the thing that is most valued and what humanity would choose again and again over the violence it has previously come to know.

Choosing peace is an act of rebellion, and it begins with a dream. Dream with me!

Learning Not to Care

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / 3 Comments

(aka Cultivating the Fine Art of Detachment)

Life is a funny thing. First, we are taught that it is our job to care about EVERYTHING. Caring about EVERYTHING implies that it is our job to do something about it. Heaped on top of this caring is the whispered weight of responsibility. Not only is it our job to do something, it is also likely that the things that appear wrong are also somehow our fault. Blame adds to the pressure to do something about the wrong.

At nearly sixty, however, I’ve learned something new. It is more than likely that NOTHING is our fault. Therefore, it’s not our job to fix it. Furthermore, it’s not even our responsibility to care.

Wait! What? It’s not our job to care?

Yes, we have a human responsibility to care about ourselves, our loved ones, humanity, and the world. If we have a loving heart, we want the best for everyone. We want people to be happy, healthy, fed, clothed, safely sheltered, educated, and their medical needs provided for. We want people to have liberty, dignity, respect, and peace.

The sad reality, however, is that more often than not, there is not a damn thing we can do to guarantee any of this for anyone. Neither can we necessarily fix the wrong that prevents people from having all that is stated above. This is especially true when the individual is capable but unwilling to care for themselves. Furthermore, 99% of what we care about is completely out of our sphere of influence, and even if it is, it still may be out of our control.

As a Type 1 (Perfectionist/Reformer) on the Enneagram, this has been a truth that has been very difficult for me to come to. Not only have I had conditioning working against me, but I have also had the gift/curse of my unique temperament which gave me the lens through which I am hard-wired to ask “How could this be better.” Indeed, this gift makes me a fantastic trouble-shooter, source of counsel and guidance. This lens also left me with a seething resentment over all the things in the world that I can’t fix and all those who could utilize my gifts, but have refused my counsel.

Compounding the frustrated fulfillment of my gift and its resulting resentment, is the reality of emotional addiction. As it turns out, we can become addicted to negative emotional states in the same way that we can be addicted to alcohol or drugs. Spending time in, or even cultivating these negative emotional states have a similar impact on our brain chemistry as other addictions. Resentment, frustration, impatience, even rage were negative states to which I had become addicted, and I would even seek out situations to get upset about so that I could experience the “power” of these emotions.

Feeling these emotions, however, never fixed the frustration. Getting twisted up about someone else’s behavior, an injustice in the world, or the ignorance of humanity never gave me peace – only more resentment. Eventually I had to make a choice – remain in the ever-twisted world of seething resentment or find some way to experience peace. I chose peace.

The first step in choosing peace was to acknowledge I had an addiction. The second step was to recognize what all those inner feelings were actually saying to me.  They weren’t saying, “Go fix this thing.  It’s your job to fix it.  You know better than anyone else.”  Instead, they were showing me one of two things: a) a need of my own that wasn’t being met that I then had the responsibility to get met (if it was within my realm of control). b) all the things in the world over which I have ZERO control. Admittedly, a) was easier to accept than b).

When we feel powerless over something we cannot control, we will find anyway to find that power, until we can accept that it is really not within our control. One of the tactics I have found helpful (or mantras I’ve embraced) is to force myself NOT TO CARE.

I know this sounds harsh, but I am naturally a loving and caring person – especially as it relates to those I love and have care for. I want the best for them. I want them to be safe, cared for, healthy, happy, etc. But the reality is that no matter my efforts to share my gifts in a way that might be supportive, some/many are unable to receive these gifts. I can beg and plead all I want but until an individual (or a group, or a Church, or a political party, or a nation) wants to make a change, my words are dust in the wind.

To survive the frustration and angst over a) my gifts not being received and b) my complete lack of control over a situation, I have had to learn not to care. In the recovery world, this is called detachment. Detachment allows me to be an objective witness of what is unfolding around me without the compulsion to step in and offer my wisdom, expertise, advice, suggestions, etc. Detachment allows me to move beyond the frustration, irritation, or anger I might feel in the face of what I perceive as wrong and accept things the way they are. And OH MY GOD, my inner perfectionist/reformer HATES THIS!  But, it’s the only way I can experience peace. At this point in my life, I’m far more concerned about peace than thinking I have any influence over the state of our world, and I’ve discovered that this peace is a choice.

I can continue to allow myself to care so much about the world that I suffer the consequences of ongoing seething resentment and frustration, or I can learn not to care (cultivate the fine art of detachment) and live my life in peace. I choose peace.

Unraveling the Wound of ME

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I don’t know about you, but this past week has been quite a doozy!  I wouldn’t even bother to write about it except that nearly everyone I know has shared the common experience of a “what the heck was that?” kind of week.

Some of the things I’ve heard, witnessed, and been a party to:

  • DEEP Depression the likes of which we haven’t seen in months/years.
  • Strangely triggering experiences with disproportionate reactions.
  • Not just rugs, entire carpets being pulled out from beneath us.
  • A feeling (literal and figurative) of losing the ground beneath our feet.
  • Old, ancient wounds – ones we thought we were done with – paying us a visit.
  • Sudden losses including the ending of relationships.
  • Final straws on camel’s backs calling for immediate response.
  • Complete immobility, lack of motivation and/or interest…in anything.
  • Unexplained sorrow and intermittent tears.

I can’t even begin to offer an explanation of why any of this is happening, or the causes behind it.  I just know it is and has been. For me it’s been a week of writhing and groaning with a whole lot of nothing.  Nothing to do.  Nothing to be. Just nothing. And the realization that there are just not enough shows on Netflix to soothe a week such as the one we just had.

Yes, the world itself is insane. But, for me anyway, the past week felt much more personal – but even that said, I can’t put a finger on what the personal is. My normal inquiry, “What is the wound that is asking to be healed?” just isn’t working here. Either I’m fresh out of wounds, or I, myself, am the wound.

Now there’s a thought!  What if the wound is ME?

I don’t mean this in any sense of self-loathing or self-rejection (or do I?). But…. accompanying the writhing this past week was a whole lot of life-reviews. Visions and memories of really old stuff – experiences that caused me shame or regret, decisions I made that went wrongly, past relationships, old jobs that didn’t fit, every single experience/relationship that felt abusive in some way.

I’m not one to spend time entertaining regret. Shame, however, is another story. Shame, that in hindsight, I had no reason to feel. You see, it wasn’t my shame. It was someone else’s rejection, critique, or condemnation of me for any number of reasons. I wasn’t thin enough. I ate too much. I was too smart. I saw through their lies and bullshit. I couldn’t perform a certain task (through no fault of my own). My lifestyle choices and desire for ease didn’t fit theirs. I exercised the wrong way. I could see the truth they didn’t want me to see. My goals, desires, wants, weren’t the same as theirs. I didn’t obey the rules they wanted to impose upon me. I questioned authority. I challenged hypocrisy.   

There was no reason for me to feel shame for any of this – but, as it turns out, I did/do. Why? Because the rejection, condemnation, etc. was PERSONAL. It wasn’t the actions or behaviors they were rejecting.  It was ME they were rejecting. It was ME because the things these individuals and institutions chose to reject were all based on WHO I TRULY AM. All those years in the past I spent trying to just be myself and being told WHO I AM is not ok.

  • My body is what it is and can’t be forced into a certain shape or size (no matter how hard I tried).
  • My metabolism is what it is and before menopause I had to eat large portions just to survive.
  • I’m smart. I can’t help it. I just am.  I know things. I remember things. I like to learn.
  • I prefer ease to chaos, gentle to harsh, peace to conflict.
  • I’m an introvert. I like people, but I thrive in solitude.
  • I’m outgoing but shy.
  • I don’t like to toot my own horn, or wave a banner to my success.
  • I’m humble.
  • I can read people and I know immediately when someone is lying, a liar, or taking advantage of my generosity and I have a visceral response to these awarenesses. I can’t help it.  I just know and the knowing is somatic.
  • I live by my own truth barometer and profess no outside perceived authority except MYSELF.

All of these things are true about me and part of who I am. I can’t help it. It’s just ME.

All this to come to the realization that indeed, the wound that is asking to be healed in me and which arose through all the weirdness this past week (for me anyway) is the wound of ME. Every single thing, experience, interaction, etc. that causes me to feel as if there is something wrong with ME. That something about ME is wrong. That I have to apologize for who I am or beg for what I need to be ME.

The wound that is asking to be healed is ME.

 Image credit: Facebook AI portrait generator. Turns out this one actually looks like me!  😊