happy groundhog’s day

It’s foggy down on the lake with blue skies above. Does this mean that there will be six more weeks of winter or spring will be here in only six weeks? Fog, it seems, is pretty well impossible to capture in a snapshot. And the neighbor’s cat is yelling at a stray.

I don’t like to write several serious-ish posts in a row but I have not had any clever or creative ideas this week. I could show you that sentence before I corrected it. My fingers seem to think that as long as they type a real word it does not matter what that word is or whether it is the word I wanted them to type. My fingers are very creative all on their own.

Happy Groundhog’s Day! If you want to read something interesting today check out Doctor Grumpy’s post today. I found Doctor Grumpy through Ally during NaBloPoMo. He’s a fun read and having worked in mental health for so many years, I particularly enjoy his phone calls and dealings with insurance companies.

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qotd

“I would sort of like to fit in somewhere, but part of me is kind of proud of the fact that I don’t fit in.”
~April Elliott Kent

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shambhala

Back in November, I wrote a post about an idea from Pema Chodron. It was incomplete and so more confusing than necessary. I picked up the book around the same time and read a little then got distracted by other things. Somewhere around there I stopped writing Sunday Thoughts as well. Distraction. So, today, when I decided to let go of the stuff I’ve been thinking about this week and explore some Sunday Thoughts, I picked up the Pema Chodron book (or opened it up, rather, on the Kindle) and let’s look at some of the first stuff I read.

Although it is embarrassing and painful, it is very healing to stop hiding from yourself. It is healing to know all the ways that you’re sneaky, all the ways that you hide out, all the ways that you shut down, deny, close off, criticize people, all your weird little ways. You can know all that with some sense of humor and kindness. By knowing yourself, you’re coming to know humanness altogether. We are all up against these things. We are all in this together. So when you realize that you’re talking to yourself, label it “thinking” and notice your tone of voice. Let it be compassionate and gentle and humorous. Then you’ll be changing old stuck patterns that are shared by the whole human race. Compassion for others begins with kindness to ourselves.

…You say to yourself, “Nobody loves me, I’m always left out. I have no teeth, my hair’s getting gray. I have blotchy skin, my nose runs.” …We’re always not wanting to be who we are. However, we can never connect with our fundamental wealth as long as we are buying into the advertisement hype that we have to be someone else, that we have to smell different or have to look different.

Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living (Shambhala Library)

Coincidence, as I’ve already noted, is a marvelous thing.

The book’s an easy read. She puts things in ways that make sense. That’s both good and bad. There’s a lot to think about and I can’t post all of it here. At some point, I’m pretty sure there is a limit to fair use in the world of copyright violation. I want to jump right through the beginning and get to the meat of the thing. But I need to slow down and absorb a little. But let me leave you with this, in the spirit of how do we accept ourselves for who we are:

…Affirmations are like screaming that you’re okay in order to overcome this whisper that you’re not. That’s a big contrast to actually uncovering the whisper, realizing that it’s passing memory, and moving closer to all those fears and all those edgy feelings that maybe you’re not okay. Well, no big deal. None of us is okay and all of us are fine. It’s not just one way. We are walking, talking paradoxes.

Affirmations. We use them all the time in psychology but I stopped believing in them long ago. Affirmations, in my experience, are short term. They stop working once you’re aware of their effect. They are a long way from really knowing and accepting yourself. In my case, at least, there’s always a voice behind the affirmation saying “Yeah, right.”

Pema Chodron is always talking about treating ourselves with gentleness and compassion on this journey. Maybe there’s a way. I don’t know how long it will take. Maybe some future Sunday Thoughts will explore what I learn along the way.

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follow up to what i want

Gretchen Rubin wrote a post yesterday that follows up my post on what i want. Coincidence is a marvelous thing.

She asks whether you are an Alchemist or a Leopard.

Alchemists seek ways to change or re-direct our fundamental natures; we’re dissatisfied with ourselves; we’re often tempted to behave, and make choices, that don’t comport with who we really are.

Leopards don’t try to change their spots. They know who they are, and they don’t worry about everything they aren’t.

Oh, I am so an Alchemist. I think I came out of the womb thinking I should be someone else. And I certainly spent my childhood being overtly told that I should be someone else. I can’t remember ever feeling really comfortable just being myself and not believing that I had all sorts of things I really had to change. I’ve tried my whole life to be different. And I have never, ever been happy about it.

If I were going to be different, you’d think I would have changed by now. Am I trying to change habits or my fundamental nature?

Now, I don’t think I’m much different from most other people. I think that probably most of us have had, at least at times, pressure from others to be different from who we are. Particularly as children, there is tremendous pressure to fit in or to do things we don’t especially want to do. From playing the piano to using drugs, there are people telling us what we should or shouldn’t do.

I hope, however, that most of us grow out of that. We become comfortable with who we are and go on to a happy life. Perhaps that’s the difference between Alchemists and Leopards. Those of us who are Alchemists never develop that level of comfort.

So on the one hand, I could say that I need to accept who I am and stop trying to be someone else. But is that realistic either? I don’t think so (and neither does Gretchen). Accepting myself doesn’t mean I don’t try to be better and that has always been a stumbling block for me. I can’t accept myself, or at least not all of myself, because there are parts of myself that I really don’t like. But perhaps I really have to accept myself to be able to change.

For example, weight has been an issue almost forever. Accepting myself as I am seems impossible as I really hate the weight. But if I don’t accept myself, how do I accept that certain behaviors are not normal? Instead, I keep coming back to denial. I think that I can moderate my eating instead of accepting that I really have no control over certain behaviors – that’s why they call it a compulsion or an addiction. I can accept from an intellectual standpoint that I eat compulsively but I keep trying to behave as I if I don’t. This time, I think, I’ll behave differently. I’ll buy the chips, or whatever, and this time I will only eat one small serving.

This will take further chewing on, if you will pardon the pun. Accepting my fundamental nature is hard. Trying to change behaviors and habits is also hard. I may be, at least in part, unsuccessful at trying to change those behaviors because they’re part of my fundamental nature – but that doesn’t mean I want to continue them. Surely there is a balance, a comfortable medium, where I can live with being me and still be happier and healthier.

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not the police

I’ve got this stupid song stuck in my head. If I could remember even a fragment of lyric, I might be able to find it and dispel it but No!

It goes like this:

La la la laaa – la la. La la la laaa – la la. La la la laaa – la la.

And there’s some more of that then I’m pretty sure someone shouts “Oh no!”

What? You don’t know it?

Same song stuck in my head a week or so ago but fortunately went away. Now it’s back with a vengeance. What more can I tell you? It’s from the 80s, a movie I think, kind of techno. And I don’t think it was the Police or Genesis.

I’m operating on the premise that my subconscious is trying to tell me something really important. Or not.

Added:

I found a virtual keyboard so anyone really interested in trying to find this song can go there and play the following.

E A C1 B A E
E A C1 B A F
F A C1 B A E

Virtual Keyboard

Of course it doesn’t give you the rhythm but it might trigger something.

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what i really want

Life has felt a little swampy this week. Instead of just accepting that the depression was being obnoxious, I spent some time questioning why the hell I was feeling so sad. I really didn’t come up with a good answer. Perhaps it is just that post holiday/post stress/post spending a lot of money on a car thing. My energy is low.

Still, I have been thinking. I’m frustrated, as usual really, that I keep doing the same stupid things. I know what I need to do, but I don’t do it. I give up too easily. I feel out of control.

Last night I was watching a movie, The Answer Man, which had good points and bad points but one exchange just hit me.

Kris Lucas: Why can’t I do the things I want to do? There’s so much I know I’m capable of that I never actually do. Why is that?
Arlen Faber: The trick is to realize that you’re always doing what you want to do… always. Nobody’s making you do anything. Once you get that, you see that you’re free and that life is really just a series of choices. Nothing happens to you. You choose.

This isn’t a new idea for me. The question is what do I do with it? In the past, I have beat myself up over the idea. See? Everything is a choice and I make bad choices, therefore I’m a bad and lazy person. Giving up is just the ultimate and inevitable choice.

What if, instead, I approached it from the other direction? What if I looked at it as truly a freedom? What is it that I truly want to do?

It happens that Gretchen Rubin wrote about this idea recently also. One of her conclusions was that, “…we’re happiest when our decisions most closely match our natures and our values.”

“If I pretend to myself that I’m different from the way I truly am, I’m going to make choices that won’t make me happy.”

What is it, I am wondering, that truly makes me happy? Is it the short term pleasure I get from, for example, eating something I want right now or the long term pleasure I might get from being healthier and more fit?

“The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want most for what we want at the moment.” ~unknown~

I don’t know that either answer is more right than the other. Or more honorable. Who am I and what do I really want? It is confused in my head. There is the image of me that I believe I should want. Sometimes I want to simply accept who I am. Sometimes I want to be some idealized self. Sometimes I want to be someone else entirely. Sometimes I want to be healthier – and in less pain – and sometimes I just want that brownie. Maybe nothing will change until I choose what it is that I truly want.

Could I truly have used the word truly any more often in this post?

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$200

…is what I got for poor old George. He got hauled away on the back of a flatbed this afternoon. The “recycling center” offered me $230 but then I had to pay for towing; the towing guy gave me $200 and said he’d make some off the tires and such. It meant I didn’t have to drive back to Cassville. I have a history of driving cars until they are dead – because I really hate car shopping – but this is a first.

Got the new(ish) car this morning. It’s rather nice to have a car I know will get me from place to place again. After further research last night, I decided it was the best choice I could make. Damn even used cars are expensive. I still feel guilty taking help from Dad but I just don’t have a choice at the moment. And at least I can make payments that I can afford to him and that’ll make me feel better.

George is dead. Long live George IV.

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death sentence

My poor car has received a death sentence. The dome light? Who knows. It’s not the switches and the solution is to pull the fuse, as that’s the least of the car’s trouble. The wheel bearing seems to be going bad. The radiator – a year and a half old – is all gunked up. A symptom, they say, of a bad head gasket. I’ve been waiting for the transmission to go. And don’t forget that the compressor is long dead. Oh, and the tires need replacing although they are only a couple years old. Plus it needs an oil change but that seems pretty pointless, doesn’t it?

Anyone have a car they want to give me?

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it’s better to laugh

Today was take Dad to the doctor in Springfield day. It’s one of my least favorite tasks. The day started a week or so ago when the doctor’s office called and reminded Dad of his appointment. He wrote the day down wrong (the 30th) and then later argued that his appointment was the next day. He stressed about which doctor and when. Then he wondered why I wanted to “go with” him. I wrote down the correct day and time for him but I neglected to remove his wrong date from the refrigerator, so although I reminded him last night, he later came downstairs to argue about when the appointment was. I have solved, I think, this problem by having the doctor’s office change the primary contact number to me. I never tell him until the day before.

This morning, I called him at 9:00 and reminded him of his appointment and asked him to change his clothes. I called him again at 11:00 and he said he needed 10 more minutes. Okay, we needed to leave by 11:30. I went up at 11:15 and found him not dressed as he had waited until the 11:00 to change his clothes. I managed to get him out of the house only 15 minutes late. And I yelled at him. Or, I spoke strongly rather, as he putzed around and wanted to sit and rest between putting on his shoes and getting in the car. And then he had to check for everything again and wanted to turn around and check again. I feel sorry for him but damn it gets tiring.

We got to Springfield an hour and a half later and he wanted to know why I pulled into the doctor’s office parking lot. Wasn’t he supposed to see the other doctor? He couldn’t check in by himself. He couldn’t find the right floor. When we got up on 5 he couldn’t check in there. Really, his functioning is getting much worse. Again, if he doesn’t have to do anything unusual, he does okay. But anything out of his usual routine really throws him.

Ah, but that wasn’t the whole of the day. No. Just out of town my “check gages” light came on. And the temperature gage started bouncing up and down between the 1/4 mark and the 3/4 mark. Since it was clear that the actual temperature wasn’t doing that I wasn’t too worried. I checked the coolant level when I got to Springfield and it was fine, so it’s probably the gage or some sensor.

But no. It doesn’t stop there. The dome light decided it wouldn’t go out. Not when the car was running, not when the car was turned off. And then the lock button on my door stopped working. Yeah. Three probably minor but really annoying things went wrong with the car in one day. It has been that kind of month. Or year.

After I got Dad home I drove back to the local auto shop where they pulled a fuse so it doesn’t run down the battery tonight. Back tomorrow to try and figure out what has gone wrong with the car now. I wish I could afford a new car.

At any rate, I’ve decided to laugh about all of this. Not really anything else I can do anyway.

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i want to be…

I want to be Aimee Mullins when I grow up. I listened to this Moth Podcast earlier this week and, well it’s hard to put into words how I felt about her. She says that she has moved beyond accepting her differences to celebrating her differences and I think – why can’t I be like that? I read stories now and then about people with much more challenging problems than I face and the incredible things that they do and I feel shame. If I had been Aimee Mullins as a little girl would I have grown up to set world records or would I have sat there feeling sorry for myself? Would I find a way to do the things I wanted to do or would I have made excuses about how hard it was?

I think that far, far too often I give up. Or at best, I trudge through. Surely I could do more.

Consider subscribing to The Moth Podcast. TheMoth.org

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