No. I Can’t Help You

Confession:  I’m a fixer. Part of being a fixer is a gift. The other part is a defense mechanism and a curse.

The gift part of being a fixer is the ability to see what could be improved in an environment so that it might more successfully thrive. It is also the ability to see what could cause a situation, environment, relationship, etc. to fail and to offer course-corrections that would help to prevent that failure. This improvement-oriented gift has been further developed in me through years of education and experience in a wide range of professional fields. Those who have sought me out for these gifts and applied my guidance have benefitted greatly. I have benefitted by applying these gifts to myself.

The fixer defense mechanism, on the other hand, rises up in me when I feel unsafe in an environment thereby triggering my own survival instinct to seek out ways to restore my feelings of safety. With the energy of hyper-vigilance, I seek out the “wrong” in the environment and then I attempt to fix that wrong. These efforts almost always blow up in my face.

The challenge of being a fixer is that there is no clear line between gift and defense mechanism. Often, these bleed into each other, usually resulting in catastrophe – if not for “the other” then most definitely for me. As a fixer, it is sheer torture watching institutions, individuals, humanity, making the same mistakes over and over and over while refusing to apply the actions that could help them.  Many don’t really want to be helped. Even when they ask for help, they may not really want that help. Most often, they are unwilling to take the necessary actions that would help them.

In the past several years, my “fixer” tendencies have come up for review. Where and how are they helpful? When are they problematic? The answer is complicated, but to put it simply:

  1. When someone invites my professional support and guidance, offer it, but with no attachment to outcome. They may apply it.  They might not.
  2. Identify those who continually ask for support but who really don’t apply it and learn how to disengage. It’s ok to say, “No, I cannot help you.”
  3. If they haven’t asked for my professional support, KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT.

The reality is that there are three kinds of people:

  1. those who want help and will do the work to help themselves,
  2. those who say they want help but really don’t,
  3. and those who definitely do not want help.

For my own mental and emotional wellbeing, I have had to learn (and relearn, and learn again) how to tell the difference while also caring for myself when overcome by the frustration and grief that surfaces when witnessing humans walk the path of their own destruction.

(PS: Being a fixer is also a form of co-dependency. Alanon, ACA, and AA principles have proven helpful in healing myself of this pattern. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change….”)


Soul School with Lauri Ann Lumby provides the basics of self-discovery and personal development. Rooted in embodied educational practices, mindfulness, and creativity, you will be supported in discovering your unique giftedness, healing the obstacles to living out those gifts for the sake of your own fulfillment, and empowered to enjoy a life of authentic freedom.

Being Love in a Divided World

We live in a divided world. Divided by gender, sexual orientation, race, nationality, religion, and politics – to name a few. When viewed as sacred differences that make each of us uniquely special, these differences serve us. When treated as something to be judged or feared, these divisions cause us harm, leading to prejudice, hatred, violence, and war.

Our differences are meant to be our gifts, instead humanity has turned them into the cause of hate. Hatred, however, is a choice. We can continue to choose hate, which leads to the devolution of humanity, and our eventual extinction; or we can choose Love and be witness to and participants in the grand evolution of human consciousness which would lead to all kinds of miracles – the likes of which we can hardly begin to imagine.

I choose Love.

Choosing Love, however, is no simple task. In fact, it has taken me a lifetime to even come close to being the Love that I truly want to be in the world. My version of Being Love is by no means perfect. There are people I continue to despise. There are experiences and situations that hurl me into a rage. There are times I want to say or do the unkind thing. I’m still human after all.  I don’t, however, act on the surface feelings of my unhealed wounds, neither do I purposefully cause harm. Choosing Love is a moment by moment task.

Choosing Love is also a lifetime process. This process begins by learning to identify every obstacle in front of, and within us, to love. Then we are invited to enter into the arduous task of clearing those obstacles. Sometimes these obstacles are the result of human conditioning – the ways in which we were taught to be and act in our family systems, our communities, our culture, our society, our world. Sometimes identifying our conditioning is simple and the choice to move past that conditioning is easy. Other times, it can be quite complicated as our conditioning is often subtle, even unconscious.

Beyond conditioning, the obstacles to love are all the places within us where we have been wounded. These wounds include times were felt betrayed, where our needs were ignored or denied, where we were criticized or condemned for who we are, where we felt unloved or were treated in non-loving ways. These wounds include past abuse, rejection, and times our love was met with hate. These unhealed wounds are, in turn, the cause of our own non-loving behaviors, thoughts, and beliefs.

Division is a choice.  So too is Love. Choosing Love begins by choosing Love for ourselves, and doing to the deep and challenging work of healing the inner obstacles to knowing and being that Love. As we transform ourselves, we are more free to be Love and being that Love plants the seeds of inspiration for others to do the same. When we are faced with Division, Choose Love. When challenged by hate, choose Love. When our unhealed wounds are triggered by the unhealed wounds of another, choose the loving thing and heal our wounds.

As our world appears to be increasingly divided, we can choose to participate in that division, or we can choose to Be Love.

I choose Love.


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No Longer Human Functioning

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

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.

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

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

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 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 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.

Not Everything is a Trigger

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/)

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.

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.

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

(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

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.

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.

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

Living Monastic

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.