mental-health

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 Effects of Trauma

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Trauma is weird. Trauma is weird because we don’t always know we’re experiencing trauma until its effects accumulate and begin to come out sideways. Trauma is also weird because every person experiences trauma differently.  Some traumas are obvious and expected, others are not. If you are in a war zone and having to deal with constant life-threatening situations, you would expect that you might experience some adverse effects from that trauma. Some people, however, seemingly don’t. If you are in a physically abusive marriage or suffered sexual assault, you would expect to suffer the effects of these traumas. One does not necessarily expect disappointment, heartbreak, loss, or betrayal to be experienced as trauma – but for some they are.

Trauma is weird. My trauma is not from war or physical abuse. What I can now identify as the traumas that eventually led to a diagnosis of CPTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), I did not necessarily think of them as traumatic at the time. I’m a strong, independent woman and that’s how I got through those traumas – truly by sheer force of will and stubbornness – mixed in with a good dose of resentment. I made myself survive.  I forced myself to weather the storm. I pushed myself through it all – never attending to the deep heartbreak I was feeling because at the time I was just trying not to collapse under the weight of it all.

Well….eventually that all caught up to me. All that forcing did was push the trauma deeper and deeper into my psyche where it built up and accumulated until it started coming out in symptoms of depression, anxiety, hypervigilance, and eventually full-blown and traumatic panic attacks. I’m also convinced that all of this pent up trauma is what made me vulnerable to the bizarre ear infection that permanently damaged my vestibular nerve – causing my now ongoing issues with vertigo, etc. which now prevents me from driving any distance without great effort and no longer allows me to drive on the freeway – dramatically hindering my previously taken for granted freedom of mobility.

Trauma is weird. I have tried to explain my trauma in the past and to those listening, it just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t really make sense to me either. I can point to the situations, experiences, individuals and say – “it’s their fault.” But really, my trauma is less about fault and more about cause. The cause, if I’m truly honest with myself, was LOVE, and the trauma that one experiences when that love is betrayed.

That’s it in a nutshell. Every trauma I’ve experienced has ultimately been about the betrayal of love.

The easiest for me to speak about is my ecclesial trauma because in this case, there are no innocent bystanders who might be hurt by my words. I feel perhaps I’ve written of this ad nauseum, but in a nutshell – I once passionately and deeply loved the Church and the mission of Love I embraced on their behalf. I found my calling in the Church. I was enthusiastically supported in that calling, both financially and otherwise by the Church. I had planned to continue my formation and advancement in Church ministry as far as would be allowed for a woman. Then I wasn’t. All because I took Jesus’ call to Love seriously and accepted that call to heal and teach. It’s a long stupid story and on the outside to call this trauma might seem trite, but I can honestly attest that leaving the Church was harder for me than divorce and the trauma I suffered that ultimately led to my leaving is the greatest heartbreak I have ever experienced. My Church turned its back on me. If you understand the nature of spiritual abuse, you get it.

The other traumas I will continue to hold close to my heart. Suffice it to say, all were deep and indelible betrayals of love. When trauma is a result of betrayal, it becomes personal – and that’s a whole different kind of trauma – which is why it’s so difficult to describe and even more challenging to explain. It’s not as a result of a hit, a punch, or war, it because of a broken heart.  

No matter the cause of the trauma, the effects are mostly the same: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, chronic illness, hypervigilance, memory issues, situational avoidance, disassociation, feelings of overwhelm and cognitive impairment, auditory and visual processing disorders, chronic pain, and so much more. There are medications and therapies that help mitigate the effects of trauma, but in my experience, the effects never fully go away and are always lying in wait to rear their ugly head again – like recently. For whatever reason, my trauma decided to rear its ugly head causing ongoing increased anxiety and breakthrough panic. Whatever I had been doing proved to be no longer enough so now I’m (by doctor’s orders) taking a break from external stimuli, adjusting to an increase in medication, and looking at what other lifestyle changes or adaptations I need to take to continue to care for my trauma-affected mind, spirit, and body.

As an aside, I’m profoundly grateful to my employer who allows for accommodations so that I can continue to work and make a living. AND there are not enough supports in our system for people who have suffered the effects of trauma. For many, work is literally impossible and for the majority, there are not enough accommodations available to help them be part of providing for their basic needs without doing further damage to themselves. If my nervous system had its way, I’d be living in a cabin deep in the woods and all my needs would be provided for so I could just take care of myself, living as gently and quietly and softly as I need. Just sayin!

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.

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!

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!  😊

Living Monastic

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

As an unmarried adult woman of a certain age, living monastic looks a lot differently than how one might imagine. I’m not living in a convent. I haven’t taken vows of chastity, celibacy, or poverty. I don’t wear a habit. I sometimes wear sensible shoes, but only as a matter of comfort, not because it’s dictated by my order. Instead, I’m free to date (if I ever find anyone worthy). I dress as I choose. I earn less than the median income for where I live, but that’s a matter of choice not imposition. I live in a comfortable apartment by myself that I have turned into my personal sanctuary.

Monastic living for me is less about the externals (how things appear from the outside) and more about the ways in which I choose to spend my time and how I choose to be in the world.

Time, for me, is a precious commodity, and one I use wisely. I don’t waste my time on meaningless interactions or the expectations of our culture. Instead, my time is spent in the way in which I want to spend it which starts and ends with silence. As an introvert, I thrive in silence. Silence is my practice. It’s how I tune into myself and Source. Silence is my prayer, my meditation, and my life-blood. Silence is the place I begin each day and to what I return when I find myself disturbed by the world or by my own unhealed wounds. It is in silence that I find comfort, guidance, and healing and often how I share my own gifts like the times I feel called to send healing and love to our broken world. My entire day revolves around this silence and I guard it with my life.

Everything else revolves around that silence including all the doing that must be done in order to exist in this world – managing a household, taking care of chores, grocery shopping, cooking, working to earn a living, (this is the chop wood and carry water part of monastic living), and all the things I do for my own growth and enjoyment – reading, watching TV, writing, spending one on one time with friends, hanging out with my children, doing yoga, and being out in nature.

Also surrounding this silence are all the ways in which I show up in service to humanity – as a spiritual counselor and mentor to others, facilitating classes or groups, officiating at a funeral, and executing my office manager duties at a local ballet studio.  These are just the things that look official – you know, a vehicle for sharing my gifts and for making a living (chop wood carry water).

Beyond these obvious ways of doing is an even deeper showing up for me. This showing up is not about what I DO, but about how I BE. This being includes – being generous, being kind, being thoughtful, being welcoming, being friendly, being gentle, and sometimes being fierce. If I were to give a word to all this being, it would be LOVE – the kind of Love that isn’t all rainbows and unicorns but is sometimes like a shield or a sword – cutting through the bullshit, setting and maintaining boundaries, saying no, and being really really real with the challenges, difficulties, and evils in our world. Sometimes love is delivered in hard truths that some just don’t want to hear, at other times it’s delivered gently, but it is forever and always about love.

Living monastically in the modern world is a personal and counter-cultural choice that I know is not for everyone, but it is 100% for me. Arriving here has been almost sixty years in the making and I’m grateful for all of the experiences that have led me here.

Why Bother?

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

examining the blurred line between surrender and depression

This title, Why Bother, even describes how I’m feeling in this moment as I attempt to put these thoughts in writing. On one hand I’m sick to death of my own inner voice. On the other hand, I know I have friends, colleagues, clients and students who might share these sentiments. Is this just what happens as we approach our sixties or is there something more afoot?

In short (who am I kidding, I’m never short with my words), I have arrived at a place in my life where daily I’m faced with the question, “Why Bother?” while also acknowledging a deep sense of letting go combined with an even deeper sense of surrendering to what is (or what seems to be). Some might call it acceptance. Others might accuse me of being depressed. Yes? No? Maybe so? Does it even matter what we call it when it just simply is?

For the vast majority of my almost sixty years, I have worked my butt off!  As a child, I pursued academics with two specific goals in mind: to become class valedictorian and to get into the college of my choice where I would pursue Engineering just like my dad. In the end, I achieved neither, but I worked hard in pursuit of those goals. In college I did the same. I worked hard, studied, hard, all with an end-goal in mind – get a good job that makes lots of money. Again, none of these goals panned out, but not for lack of trying.

Somewhere around 1994, I experienced a profound change of direction and found myself called into what I believed to be my life purpose and mission. I pushed myself in my studies. I developed opportunities to put my learning into actions. I gained respect in my field and eventually landed a job that I planned to pursue to the highest rank possible for a woman working in the Church – Parish Director. As these goals began to bear fruit, the rug was violently pulled out from under me and I found myself again, on another path.

We plan and God laughs!

Before going on about career stuff, I must also acknowledge my marriage. I had a vision. I had goals. I worked my ever-loving ass off to make the impossible succeed. I did not fail -but the marriage did. Again, not for lack of trying!

Then there’s my kids – yeah – I won at that. No, it’s not a contest, but I can confidently acknowledge the role I played in supporting my children in being the absolute best versions of themselves as they could possibly be. No, I wasn’t perfect. I sometimes lost my temper. I occasionally yelled at my kids. My anxiety often got the best of me. I’m sure they are carrying around conditioned thoughts or behaviors influenced by my own unhealed wounds. BUT, I look at them today and I could not be more proud – of them, and myself for my attempts at loving them into being who they are today. In this I can say I succeeded.

Back to the career stuff – without boring you with the details about which I’m sick of speaking – I worked hard, really hard, at what I understood to be my mission and purpose, and worked even more vigorously at it after the Church rug got pulled out from beneath me. I pursued further education. I voraciously consumed books on personal development, grief, and shadow work, etc. all while building, promoting, and managing my own business offering resources and support for individual self-actualization.

  • I wrote and published books. Eleven to be exact.
  • I created and facilitated over 30 courses in personal development – both in-person and eventually online.
  • I worked with countless students and clients who felt called to pursue their own inner work.
  • I networked with and collaborated with other people in the field in support of our shared mutual growth.
  • I penned thousands of blog posts to support the visibility of my work and to educate and inspire readers.
  • I wrote for myself and was guest writer for many online and hard-copy publications.
  • I put SEO practice into my work.
  • I did what I was told to do by various so-called experts.
  • I gathered a strategic team to help support a necessary rebranding.
  • Speaking of rebranding – I’ve done that too many times to mention.
  • I believed in the promises offered to me by influential people in the field to “help make my business successful.”

Since 2003, I have done all this. I’m grateful for all those who received from the gifts I shared in the world. I acknowledge the benefit my sharing has been for many. I’m humbled by the relationships that have blossomed out of the simple act of me sharing myself in the world.

Yes, great good has come from thirty years of pursuit. And yet, I have nothing of a material nature to show for all my hard work. I have zero savings. No investments. I own nothing but my car and the contents of my apartment. To heap on additional frustration, as of 2020, my work, my passion, my mission, my business has all but died. Yes, there have been a few new students and clients popping up from time to time along with the return of those with whom I hadn’t work in years. But for the most part – not much to nothing has been happening.

At some point in the last several years, I have been forced to increasingly acknowledge that what I thought was my mission and purpose is over. It’s complete. Perhaps all I pursued was simply for my own sake and those clients and students were only along for the ride (as one of my Zen friends reminds, “We’re all just here in our own sit.”) I sometimes wonder if the search for and pursuit of meaning and purpose is simply an illusion that feeds our big fat egos.

But I’m really good at what I do/did.  There was a passion that drove me. My gifts became enlivened and additional gifts were discovered, cultivated, and shared. St. Paul says this is what we should be doing – using our own unique gifts in support of the mission of love. I’ve done all that.

And yet…..and yet…..what do we do when there is nothing left? No one coming forth to receive our gifts. No inspiration to create anything new. No energy or excitement about diving back in to try reviving that which is already dead.

I got nothing. I’m spent. I have nothing more inside of me to promote, advertise, or feed my business – and at this point I wonder, “Why bother?” I’ve done all I can. Perhaps it’s lived out its life and that life has come to an end. Maybe it’s time to hand the baton to the young ones who still have the energy to start a new life.

I do not. I’m done pushing that boulder up the hill only to have it roll back down over my own dying body. I’m tired. I’m spent. One some days I feel defeated, but mostly I feel resigned. In spite of all my efforts, nothing can reverse the direction of a dying tide. It is what it is. I did what I felt called to do. I ministered to those who found their way to me. I gave my best effort and brought my best self forth. Some enjoyed the benefits of my sharing. Others found their way to another path. Some gave up the work for reasons I can only guess. Some turned away because it was easier to blame me than to face their own demons and do the deep inner work of personal healing and transformation. And I was there for it all.

So what happens now? I have a part-time job that has its frustrations but at least it helps me to pay the bills. Beyond that, I’m not sure I care. Not because I’m depressed, but because if there is one thing I’ve learned in the 59+ year journey is that WE ARE NOT IN CHARGE! Some other force is driving the boat and we can either exhaust ourselves fighting against it or go along for the ride. At almost sixty, I’m choosing to go along for the ride because any other choice is futile. This is where the “Why bother” comes in. In going along for the ride (surrendering/accepting), there’s nothing left to do, only something to be. The something I choose to be is peaceful, living with ease, gently, lovingly, and with kindness toward myself and others – or as one friend recently shared: “There is nothing more to do other than to be that which cannot be seen,” which as it turns out might just be a fancy way of saying, “Why bother?”

Why I Choose the Bear

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Trigger Warning!  Trigger Warning!  Trigger Warning!

I was a victim of sexual assault. The assault happened in 1983 in my freshman year in college. I was out with a pack of girlfriends for a night of cocktails and dancing at the Fieldhouse bar in Iowa City, Iowa. I woke up the next morning in a stranger’s apartment. I didn’t know how I’d gotten there. In my right mind I would never have gone.  I understand now that I was likely drugged – and I’ll leave it to you to fill in the blanks.

The thing that still gets me is that in the fragments of memory I do have of that night: I don’t remember the guy, but I remember him parading me past my girlfriends, past the bouncers, and past a group of my male friends who had congregated outside the bar. Not one single person thought to ask if I was leaving of my own volition or questioned this stranger escorting me away – most especially my male friends. They knew me. They knew who I hung with. They were friends with my boyfriend at the time. They would have known that I did not know this man and that I shouldn’t be leaving with him. Yet nobody did a thing. I’m not blaming my male friends – I’m just making note of their inaction in what turned out to be a dangerous situation.

This was not the last time I experienced inappropriate sexual behavior on the part of a male. It’s not the last time I witnessed other men looking the other way. In my 59 years I have witnessed time and time again 1) a sense of entitlement some men have as it relates to sex  2) the coercion, guilt, shame, and other tools used by unhealthy men to “get” women to have sex with them, 3) the tools some men use to inflict power over a woman, intentionally putting her into a vulnerable state of unease (ie: unsolicited dick pics) and 4) the stories they tell each other about their conquests, their sexual prowess, and the power they feel over women.

In my lifetime we have become more aware of the power dynamics used against women for sexual purposes, but still NO ONE DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT!  Case in point: The New York appeals court just overturned the sexual assault charges against Harvey Weinstein.  So much for #metoo. 

All of this, and for so many more reasons I shouldn’t have to bring forward here, I choose the bear!  Why? Because life has shown me that not only strange men, but so-called friends, and partners can be dangerous. But even more than the direct, personal experiences of assault, manipulation, objectification, or abuse of power, I still see that NO ONE DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

When a man commits an offense against a woman, men look the other way. No, not all men (why do we have to keep saying this?), but enough of them that it feels like the norm. THIS is what needs to change. We already know that abuse against women IS the norm (83% of women have experienced some form of sexual harassment or assault in their lifetime!). It is not the women who need to change (their behavior, dress, makeup, way they walk, where they spend time), it is the men.

If men want women to choose them over the bear, then men need to step up. Hold their brothers accountable. Call out those they see acting inappropriately toward women. And when they see a woman who is being harmed or at risk of being harmed, GET HELP. Don’t stand there looking the other way because you are afraid by making waves you might lose your man card. If men want women to choose them over the bear, then they need to do something about men seeming like more of a threat to woman than a huge-ass bear.

*If you have suffered sexual violence and need help, please reach out! The Sexual Abuse Hotline is available 24/7. Learn more here: https://www.rainn.org/

You Did Nothing Wrong! It’s Not Your Fault!

/ Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I have grown increasingly weary of the new thought, new age, la la positivity movements and their “can-do” attitude subtly laced with shame and guilt. You know the routine:

  • “Think the right thoughts and you’ll get what you want.”
  • “If you don’t have what you want it’s because you aren’t thinking the right thoughts.”
  • “Don’t like your current life state?  Change your thoughts!”
  • “The state of your life is what you agreed to before you came here.”
  • “Suffering is an example of past life karma.”
  • “You must have done something wrong in a past life for this to happen….”
  • “You created this.”
  • “You create your reality.”
  • “If you want more you have to work hard.”

Yadda Yadda Yadda

On all of this I call BULL SHIT!

Seriously, the very last thing we need in our lives is a reinforcement of the messages many of us grew up with:  “You did something wrong. There’s something wrong with you.  It’s your fault. God is punishing you. God will punish you.”

Guilt. Shame. Blame. Over-responsibility.

Again, I call bullshit on this all.

Life is life. Period.

Sometimes in life we experience joy and ease. Sometimes life sucks and we die. Sometimes good things come from hard work. Sometimes only pain comes from hard work. Somedays we feel happy and joyful. Other days we feel depressed. Sometimes it seems we have the power to create our reality……..OR……..was the creation a function of privilege?

At 59 years old, I’ve learned there is really no rhyme or reason to life. Sometimes really bad people do nothing and seem to get everything they want. Often, really good people work really hard and get nothing. Perfectly healthy, really good young people get sick and die by no fault of their own, and absolutely terrible human beings get sick with a terminal illness and live for fucking ever!  No amount of thinking the right thoughts, praying the right prayers, or so-called life contracts or past life experiences change the circumstances of the human condition.

The human condition JUST IS. We have joy. We experience suffering. We find ease. We struggle. And none of this is our fault!!!!!  Our thoughts don’t dictate our life. Prayers and spells don’t change the course of fate. Life just is. And the last thing we need in the already difficult experience of being human is someone gloating about their good fortune and then telling us we don’t have what they do because we signed a life contract or thought the wrong thoughts. F*CK that SH*T!

But here is what we can do with life: Find resources and tools that help us to survive it!

  • Find a therapist.
  • Secure a spiritual director.
  • Ask your doctor for medicinal support (Zoloft is my friend).
  • Phone a friend.
  • Cultivate a daily practice that creates the space in which you can return to a place of inner peace.
  • Exercise.
  • Do what you love when you are able.
  • Drink coffee.  Eat chocolate. Love what you love in healthy amounts.
  • Find meaningful work if you are able, and if not, find something that doesn’t kill your soul.
  • Enjoy nature.
  • Create space to be fully present to your feelings: ALL OF THEM!
  • Honor your sorrow, depression, loneliness, and sense of abandonment. They all have something to teach you.
  • Find practices to free you from any and all guilt and shame based conditioning.
  • FREE YOURSELF from any and all person/teachers/tools that try to heap shame or guilt upon you.
  • And remember this:  YOU ARE A PRECIOUS AND GLORIOUS CHILD OF LOVE/God.  And if you have forgotten this, find tools to help you remember!
  • And if all else fails, exercise my favorite mantra:  F*CK This SH*T!