The horrible person is my roommate… not me!

Last week my therapist called me a “horrible person”.

multiple times

I couldn’t deny it. I will analyze the shit out of a person. I’m a bloodhound and nothing will stop me from figuring out your intentions.

She said I was a horrible person because I always look for the worst possible outcome in every scenario. Our conversation was all in a friendly banter and she was showing me that I have a choice of being a “horrible person” or giving up that need to always feel like I need to have a contingency plan or have total control. The idea is to give up the tendency to look for the worst in people and situations. Her white board flow chart of my thinking always left me in the worst case scenario.

Over the next week, I began to break down this thinking and I feel that it is a protective mechanism to always be prepared. That’s part of PTSD. Or maybe it’s just a Boy Scout code of be prepared for shit. (Or something)

The “horrible person” ideal also brought up an inner dialogue. The need to tell my therapist of who I am. “She should have an idea of who I am by now. Haven’t we be talking about who I am for the past four sessions?” No. We’ve been talking about my domestic issues. My goal was to work on me, but really, I’ve been ruminating over the same shit about someone else this whole time. The conversation always turns to my deep hurt and trust being demolished and the depression, anxiety and pain that follows. Over. And over.

Get over it, and work on me! Right?

I came across this audiobook called “The Sacred Self” by Michael Singer during my week of rumination. Very honestly, this book is a Universe Nod (people, places or things that come into my life in a very timely fashion.) It’s an audiobook about exploring who we are and the ability to observe ourselves and the world around us by tapping into meditation and mindfulness and letting go of pain, thereby achieving happiness. It focuses on getting rid of the inner dialogue, opening the heart and achieving enlightenment. I’d love to quote most of the book, but to keep your interest and to avoid risking copyright violation, I’ll send you to the Google Book so you can read these few pages regarding opening the heart… start on page 44 where it talks about ” There are centers within that channel your energy flow. When you close them, there is no energy. When you open them, there is. Although various energy centers exist within you, the one you intuitively know the most about opening and closing is your heart. Let’s say that you love somebody, and you feel very open in their presence. Because you trust them, your walls come down allowing you to feel lots of high-energy. But if they do something you don’t like, the next time you see them you don’t feel so high. You don’t feel as much love. Instead, you feel a tightness in your chest. This happens because you closed your heart. The heart is an energy center, and it can open or close…. When you close your heart center, energy can’t flow in. When energy can’t flow in, there is darkness. Depending on how closed you are you either feel tremendous disturbance or overwhelming lethargy. Often people fluctuate between these two states. If you find out that your loved one didn’t do anything wrong, or if they apologize to your satisfaction, your heart opens again. With this opening you get filled with energy, and the love starts flowing again….” and read through 46.

But here’s the words that struck me the most regarding heart his description of heart energy…

“Humans have an innate tendency to close as a means of protection. But closing your heart is not really protecting you from anything; it just cuts you off from your source of energy. In the end, it only serves to lock you inside… do not let anything that happens in life be important enough that you’re willing to close your heart over it….”

Is there a connection to my chronic pain, depression and anxiety and my heart closing?

If you’re feeling The Universe Nod yourself, check out Mr. Singer’s description of inner dialogue… it truly hit me where I needed to be hit. There’s an analogy of your inner dialogue being your insane roommate that had me rolling.

I’ve been listening to an insane roommate (page 15-22) for the majority of my life! Maybe I’m not a horrible person, maybe my roommate is!
When I saw my therapist on Monday, I told her about the book and the roommate theory. I told her I’d been listening to this inner dialogue (the insane roommate) and believing everything I heard. Trust me, I worded this in such a way that she didn’t come to the conclusion that I was hearing voices… at least I hope that’s how it came across.  We did not do the slow march to the psych ward, so I think I’m in the clear. I explained to her that since I understood that all these catastrophic thoughts in my head were not all true, I could begin to apply the cognitive behavioral therapy worksheets that she kept giving me… and I kept ignoring.

In the meantime, I’ll tell the roommate to shut up when it begins to yell at me about lies, deceit and what happened in the past. It’s all about right now and opening my heart to discover that no matter what, it won’t be hurt. Soon, I’ll have to tell you about the incredible voice (that was not my roommate) which spoke to me while meditating at a yoga retreat in the Bahamas. It had to do with my golden heart…


Small bucket big ocean

I’m writing this from bed today. Even my fingers hurt. I suppose that I’ve done too much in the last few weeks and now my body has given up. One doctor’s appointment per day for the past week, an emergency trip to Ohio to see grandpa before he passed and a really bad reaction to hydro-therapy has literally done me in. I’m so tired that I can’t sleep. 

I tell my doctors that it’s like living in a bucket in the middle of the ocean. I cannot do much, or I’ll fall in and drown. The recovery will take three days to a week. At least I hope it only takes that long. The recovery also depends on how much rocking I do in that bucket. Wish I could sleep it off!

From Zen to Twenty Followers

Like climbing the stairs instead of riding the elevator. We do it, not because we feel better, but because we won’t feel any better than this. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to follow me. Even through these past few rough days. Laying out my feelings in such a manner allows the steam to vent. I’m able to let go of those thoughts as I send them out into the interwebs. 

Today I wanted to write about how I would like to use my chronic pain to live a life of gratitude and peace.

In the past, have been many types of people. The pragmatist. The zealot. The forward thinker. The know it all. The “think it till you achieve it”. The “overcome all obstacles” by plowing through it kind of girl. 

Some of these people are what I thought I should be. Some of these people are really me. Especially the bull.  I am bull headed and I hate it. Interestingly, The bull in me is problematic at this point in my odyssey. I cannot plow my way through life’s obstacles any longer. The harder that I push, the harder my body pushes back. Plain and simple.

As much as I want, I cannot think myself out of my body. So the optimist is fired. A few years ago, I went through a challenging stage of recreating my mindset to think positive and avoiding the negative as much as I could. This was an “about face” to my pragmatic ways. And it worked! The change in thinking was a great way for me to rise above HUGE obstacles in my life. Including a crappy marriage, a horrible workplace and several horrible relationships. 

The positive vibes cleared the path to become my favorite “me”

My favorite “me” was the zen master. Ah the happiest time in my life was when I could just let go and observe without judgement. I would walk and feel the ground under my feet. Eat and taste the healthy food that I gave to my body. Drink cool water and say “I love you” as I felt it slide down my throat. I owned very little and It was fantastic. 

The way of life did not last long, however. I married, I found Jesus, I started a new job and began a promising education. While, these things in themselves are wonderful they all require a lot of thought and a lot of busy. And even a lot of guilt and regret. 

The guilt and regret has a lot to do with my Christianity. It’s a tall subject for another time. Essentially, repentance of sins can really mess up your zen. And feeling abandoned by your God can really make your zen fall away. Like I said… for another time. 

Essentially, I want the zen master back. The problem is the zen master is actually a lot of work. Letting go, and not getting caught up in thinking is the easiest way to describe it. Gratitude, love, presence in a peaceful way. 

I made the realization a few days ago, when I read an article about ten good things about fibromyalgia.  These ten good things are about appreciation of details that most people wouldn’t think about as they grind through their day climbing the never ending ladder to “success”. 

Right now, in this moment, I have the opportunity to be the zen master. I have no work and no school. I have the opportunity to avoid first world distractions. I have it all, ready to go. 

My biggest obstacle is my body. Maybe, just maybe, I could use my body as a guide. A que, to slow down and zen. Even in moments of absolute pain. 

Or perhaps, my twenty followers, I took a Percocet and all of this zen talk is madness.