Tag Archives: safety

So you wish you were an Empath?

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So you wish you were an Empath?

Beers in the bathtub

My whole life I have been susceptible

To feeling the world move;

Just by being near you,

I FELT.

The enormity of it.

The brevity.

The gravity.

I learned to dissociate;

Separate myself from it.

I put up Pink’s wall

Protected myself.

Learned to shut it out

For fear of being destroyed.

(Or revealed)

I remember back in another life:

Times when thoughts were fleeting

And I understood what Barrie meant

When he said fairies were only big enough

to feel one emotion at a time.

My momentary instances;

Glimpses really…

Perceptions of feelings,

Experiences…

When coherent thoughts

Were meaningless and

When the world;

Reality,

Was too big to contain

In my chest

And I knew

Oh I knew

My heart would explode

From the overwhelming love!

But by grace it would dissipate.

Lucky for me.

And it is echoed now

In the pendulum’s swing-

Such a visceral sadness

In thinking of her.

I feel through you

Such a compounding misery.

My alleged “gift”

Neil was right you know-

“They don’t teach you what to say…”

I grow weaker and weaker trying

To subsume within,

My compartmentalized arks,

Shielded from my sentience.

Fiona said she ‘just wants to feel everything’

Well, she can have it.

Please just take it,

Before I am consumed.

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a change in perspective…

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a change in perspective…

Today I found out that I have no more homework left in grad school. A professor reduced my final assignment to a third of the original requirement and I already had it more than a third done.

Such a great gift.

Anxiety gone.

And I have been panicking about finding a job. I have one. I have been offered a position, it just doesn’t start for three weeks. I will figure it out between now and then…My credit cards might be late. My power might be shut off. But I should be ok.

My kids should be ok. In fact, one just started a job making about a grand a month. The other one will be gone all summer.

Little blessings.

I just need to be thankful.

Gratitude.

Everything is GOING TO BE OK.

 

 

Melanin

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Melanin

I have so many freckles;

moles

On my body

potential little cancers,

threatening to eat away at me.

 

I can only count the front-

Yet even if you offered

to count them;

connect them as ephelidic constellations,

I’d never know the true total.

 

There are so many

I’ll never show you

Each one represents a secret

A shame, a regret

A love, a hate

Somethings better

Left forgotten.

 

Shattering patterns, one crisis at a time….

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Shattering patterns, one crisis at a time….

So you know that dumb cliché that your children are your karma for what you did as a child?

Payback is a bitch.

Today marked the third LARGE parenting crisis I have had to deal with in the 16 years I have been a parent. Oddly enough, all three of them have happened when my children were the same age as I was, when I experienced practically the same crisis.

It’s really freaking scary. I have made bad decisions as a romantic relationship role model, that is for sure. But as far as everything else: school, work, self-advocacy, critical thinking, self-esteem, encouraging uniqueness, supporting their choices, not being a blind follower, talking about sex, drugs, and unconditional love, etc….I rock that.  I couldn’t imagine having to deal with any of the things I experienced because I have prided myself on being such a “better” parent than I had. And I am a better parent, my toolbox is better stocked. My education is more complete. But better is a relative term, I suppose.

The main difference between my parenting and my childhood is that I have made it a point to do the absolute opposite of what my parents did; in these specific situations.

And it’s hard.

I panic.

I don’t know what a “normal” parent would do.

I don’t always know what the appropriate thing to do is.

I know what I would tell a client.

I know what I would tell a friend.

But they aren’t my kids.

They aren’t me.

They don’t have my experiences.

And therein lies the rub.

All I can do is hope I have interrupted a pattern. Hope that when it’s my children’s turn as parents, that they don’t experience these crises. If they do, I hope they handle it even better than I did.

Mother, Mother

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Mother, Mother

Maybe not meaningful to you but meaningful to me is the fact that this song came out the year I became a mother…albeit a pre-birth mother, but a mother aware of the child inside her all the same…

I identified with this song so much.

Somedays, I still do.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the men and women mothers or mother role holders, even the ones that weren’t close to perfect.

Oh my poor vanilla car.

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Oh my poor vanilla car.

The first time someone told me I didn’t live in Portland and my bumper stickers were going to cost me jobs, I rolled my eyes and laughed.

regina

The second time someone pointed out people might be suspicious of me as a social worker because of my bumper stickers, I was like “oh well, people learn when they are uncomfortable.”

judy

The third time I was like:

“OK FINE SWEET JEBUS. No, I don’t want to alienate my damn clients.”

walter

grumble grumble grumble hiss

So I finally stripped my poor car today.

Luckily, I was married to a redneck who did auto body and paint once, soooo I knew how to do it with out scratching my car but gees…

My poor car is humiliated.

She is vanilla.

She is now an asexual gender neutral it.

It is now apolitical.

The only thing that could offend my client’s now for sure is the fact it’s not American made.

Oh! And that it’s white. Damn it!

I have to draw the line.

But I suppose this is what being a grown-up anti-oppressive practitioner is.

Boo.

resume schmesume

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resume schmesume

It’s that inevitable part of ending graduation….that time every one without a trust fund dreads……JOB SEARCH….

I have redone my resume 34,384,574,857,045 times with 2,384,973,048 different people telling me I need to redo it. But luckily, I have a pretty awesome BGBF who  loves me enough to have worked mine over like racehorse on his weekend and whipped it into sexy shape. All on one snazzy page. HUZZAH.

So today I filled out 15 applications, including cover letters and endless inane questions asking me to provide rationale, answers, education, and experience with the name of the organizations I worked at during those experiences to prove I know how to blow my nose and tie my shoes and encourage others to do the same, in an appropriate manner.

OY.

Holy Moly. I hope I get a job.

Don’t they understand I am an indentured servant? I have a house worth of loans! I am owned by the man!

I will work! I have to work! Let me work! PLEASE……

Not that I am desperate….yet…..

I was even asked in an application if I am an “expert in determining precipitating events.”

Um, no. Is that even an actual expertise? I know what one is but…..I’m not training to be on “Criminal Minds”….

I digress.

What did I get into!

Wish me luck lovers.

Mama needs to pay off these shoes….

Ye’ olde family traditions

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Ye’ olde family traditions

When I was growing up, one town that I lived in frequently seemed to have an alley behind every street within its old city limits. We usually didn’t have much money and so when holidays came around like Memorial Day, Mother’s Day and Easter, instead of buying my family flowers (for them or their gravestones), my mother would drive down alleys letting me spot and cut beautiful escapee flowers.

It was really one of my favorite things to do. Lilacs are my grandma J’s favorite and so when those were still in season (depending on when Easter landed) we would scout those out first. I remember the joy and the feeling of responsibility I would get from riding with the door slightly ajar, no seat belt, while my mom would drive slowly down the alleys letting me jump out with scissors to run and steal flowers.

As a parent myself, I cringe at the memory…But as my inner child, I still remember the sneaky happiness. I am quite certain no one would have complained had they seen us cutting their alley irises or tulips, but it sure felt naughty which was part of the fun. There a few times they may have complained upon seeing me squeezing through gaps to reach beautiful flowers IN their yards but…..

I digress.

As an adult, and I use the term relatively, my bestest friend Pippi and I did the same thing. I even continued the tradition with my own children when I lived in that same town again. However I usually parked and walked or would follow the kids down the alley. (Traditions evolve you know.)

We haven’t found any alleys where we are now. Not for lack of trying either. Every year I see the flowers growing in spring and I mourn for my alley escapades.

I’ve seen some pretty gorgeous daffodils on a couple of shoulders and exits near my house though….they might just be fair game.

Happy whatever you do today!

Are you f***ing kidding me?

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Are you f***ing kidding me?

Ok, I know that this is going to abound with moral relativism issues and non-cultural competence but this really bothers me on a personal level. Especially after yesterday’s butterflies from my arsehole post; but in this day and age, is this really necessary?

Accused witch burned alive after being tortured

I mean, yes, the area has been pounded by devastating earthquakes for the last week, but c’mon. Yes, I made a “Joe and the volcano” joke yesterday about throwing Meg Ryan in the volcano to make them stop, but it was a joke.

This is not. This GIRL was 20 years old. Accused by a 6 year old BOY and viciously tortured and killed by her own village.

Groupthink IS the only Devil in this world.

This is murder. Gender based murder.

Think a positive thought for this girl and those like her please.

Navigation

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Navigation

Relationships are interesting things. In some regards they are utterly necessary for survival and yet other times, are contrary to it. All of our interactions are built around some sort of relationship, be it familial, romantic, platonic, sexual, business, pleasure, some combination, or even the inherent lack of a relationship is a sort of relationship in unto itself.

I have been giving a lot of thought to this thing, “Relationship” in my life; the art of it and the purpose of it. On one hand I find myself constantly in some sort of flux within them, the push and pull, yin and yang of giving and receiving energy in the confines of one. But on the other hand, I variate between desperation for one and frustration because I am in one. And I am not merely speaking of romantic ones, although recently that has been the catalyst of this thought.

I am navigating a path within a relationship I have never been on. One involving separation as a means of keeping some sort of a relationship. It is odd. It is uncomfortable. It is confusing. It is counter-intuitive to everything I have ever thought. It breaks my heart and gives me hope in the same moment. Everyone has heard the tired ol’  cliche if you love something let it go…if it’s yours it will come back, if it doesn’t it never was or however the bullshit goes. Well, I suppose in a healthy unattached view of the world that works to a sense, but in the real life application that means nothing to me.

I have attachment issues. I know that.

I have control issues. I know that.

I probably have borderline personality issues. I am aware, thanks.

I digress…

I also know that there are things within myself and my relationships that I can affect to get the desired effect….I learned long ago about the relationship between trauma and patterns, brain chemistry and triggers….however it wasn’t until recently that I was ready to hear and understand. It has been a subject of interest in a class of mine and lo and behold, I am at a receptive point in my life wherein I GET it.

I understand how previous experiences influence the list of bad things embedded in my Hippocampus. I understand that this growing list sends all sorts of emergency signals to my Amygdala. I understand why over the years chronic stresses have set my baseline window of tolerance for drama higher.

I get it. That question I have been asking myself lately? Why it seems I dealt with worse shit better in the past? Why these days the slightest thing makes me frozen with fear whereas in the past I was able to act with confidence when looking certain death literally in the eye? It all makes sense.

So now, I am set on a path to reevaluate my own triggers.

Understand that trust IS a verb and a noun.

Love is a verb AND a noun.

I am reprograming my Hippocampus in the best way I can.

I am stepping out of my Limbic, Reptilian brain and into my Vulcan, Prefrontal Cortex as consciously and conscientiously as I can.

Relationships should be fluid. When they aren’t  they become unbalanced. Just like a tug of war, if you add more to one side, the other side loses.

Every thing, every feeling, every physical act, every emotional act, is a cycle and a balancing act. I knew this all along.

But now I KNOW it.

Does it make it easier for my internal GPS?

No.

But it makes it less frightening. Giving it a name. Seeing it for what it is, is better.

Thanks for coming on my journey. ツ

XOXO,

Jani