Namago: The ego in me…

I’m coining a new term, namago. To me, it means: The ego in me recognizes the ego in you.

A common translation for namaste is: the light in me, recognizes the light in you.

You see, I’m learning how to handle my emotions, and to keep my cool, but sometimes I lose it.

I used to talk about Betsy in my posts, a lot. SHE was born during my early recovery when I learned about cognitive dissonance and the alcoholic (or addictive) voice. Betsy would dupe me and deceive me, and it was all so tricky because her voice sounded just like mine.

But similar to drinking, my thoughts about ‘Betsy’ have dwindled since the beginning.

However, now I notice a similar voice, one that sounds like me, but is mean and cynical. My spiritual teachings tell me this is my ego.

My ego tells me the story I’m writing is terrible.

It tells me that I should weigh X amount and that I’ll never be good enough. It doesn’t say it in those exact words, but it’s the message I receive from its never ending negativity.

Sometimes I see it in other people.

Like when my hubby overreacts when someone cuts him off. It. Makes. Him. Mad. He seems to take it personally- which I see as his ego’s doing. I try to tell him that maybe they’re having an emergency or something. He always seems to assume that they did it just to be a *jerk* I see it as his ego piping up and hyjacking his brain. But nothing good ever comes of it. The person drives far into the future, and hubby is left heavy breathing for the remainder of the ride. See, if it were me, I’d just feel relieved that they aren’t behind me anymore.

And of course I’m the correct one. No question about it, right?

Nope. That’s my ego 🤦🏻‍♀️

See what I’m stepping in?

Ego wants us to feel justified that we are right. But what ego doesn’t take into consideration, is that we never know someone else’s perspective. Even if we’ve walked ‘a mile’ in their shoes- we still will have a different perspective so we can’t know for sure.

But I’m often convinced that I’m right, at least in the heat of the moment. After time, the whole picture changes and I can see how when my emotions heated up, my ego took right over.

Maybe Betsy and my ego are the same voice?

At any rate, I’m trying to get better at calling out my ego, especially in the heat of the moment.

So when I notice it getting loud, I shout, namago! And it sounds fine and appropriate for me. It even sounds like I’m ordering the ego to GO 💨 so it makes me laugh.

But for you, namaste 💙🙏🏻

Thoughts & Feelings

Taken from, Buddhist Boot Camp, by Timber Hawkeye.

Have you ever noticed how we view every situation from a relativity perspective? We immediately contemplate ways to make things different than they are, get better, faster, bigger, warmer, bolder; it’s exhausting! Now imagine letting go of labels and evaluations, and allowing everything to be just as it is, without wishing for it to be any other way. Accept yourself, and then others, without needing to change anything.

Feelings and emotions will inevitably continue to rise (both pleasant and unpleasant). Buddhist Boot Camp is simply reminding you to relax, to acknowledge that everything is temporary, including you, health, and life itself. All experiences are as transient as clouds in the sky: anger comes and goes, excitement rises and falls, and tears dry on their own. So practice tenderly watching your feelings and emotions as they move in and out of your mind, just like traffic on a busy street.

Remain aware of what goes on around you, but try to do it without the mind’s commentary. Observe without judgment, and experience life without resistance.

Opinions change, perspectives widen, and the opposite of what you know is also true. Take a step back and you’ll see that all of our anguish is self-inflicted. We assign meaning to everything, and simply refuse to except it all is in impermanent.

Instead of spending so much time thinking about what’s missing from your life, remind yourself (if only for 20 minutes a day), of everything you already have: from a comfortable bed to sleep on, to a roof over your head, to clean air, drinking water, food, clothes, friends, functioning lungs, and a beating heart.

When you approach each moment with gratitude, not only will you stop experiencing life from a place of lack, you will experience abundance!

THAT is luxury. THAT is being rich! Some people are so poor, all they have is money — Anonymous

Day 844 – I Can Self-Soothe

Last Saturday got interesting after my I posted about my kiddo. I was taking care of him and thinking that he should be at a hospital, well I got my wish, I guess. Sometime after I wrote, he started to run a fever and it began to rise fast. He was too painful to move much, so we had to call EMS to get him out.

I was a little relieved to take him to the experts, and we eagerly waited for the ambulance.

My sister met and married a man much younger than her about 6-7 years ago. He turned out to be abusive and she divorced him a few years later, which was an ordeal in itself (domestic abuse can be absolutely brutal). But she’s moved on, and so have I, until I noticed that one of the EMS workers was him. I knew he drove an ambulance, but the last I heard, he lived in a different county so I didn’t even consider seeing him. Could this situation be any worse? I couldn’t help but to think, as the abuser helped gather up my son.

In retrospect, he had a mask on and later on, when I questioned my hubby, he said no way, it wasn’t him. My son also didn’t think it was him. We may never know.

I digress.

The entire hospital visit was a giant debacle. I’m chalking it up to a mixture of Post-Covid changes, him being in the hospital as an adult for the first time, and the fact that we didn’t go to Beaumont, where we felt like we’ve gotten very good care for him. Because this problem had nothing to do with his diabetes, his endocrinologist said that we can take him to the hospital closest to us, and so we did. Now I wonder if we would have gotten better care elsewhere.

I don’t want to go into details so I’ll keep it brief. Doctors disagreed and kept stuffing and unstuffing his hole (cyst, abscess, we still don’t really know) which was SO painful and caused him more anxiety whenever someone had to look at it), one doctor talked my ear off about unrelated stuff and did a Celiac test even though I flat out told him not to. There was NO reason to do it, other than he is screened for it every two years because he has type 1 diabetes. My insurance doesn’t cover the Celiac screening every year, and I don’t know if we are due yet, so don’t do it. I’ll have his endocrinologist do it at his next diabetic checkup. — Those were my words verbatim. Still, I just wasn’t surprised when that same doctor sat by my son the next day and said, We did a Celiac screening, but it won’t be back for a couple weeks. 

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??????

There were a couple other mishaps with this same doctor, and I don’t even know what to do with it. I know I need to call ASAP, at least to dispute the test that I told him not to do, amongst other things.

It wasn’t just him. We heard different opinions and diagnosis the entire visit, and I’m still feeling the frustration.

OK, onto the good. My son is feeling A LOT better, so I guess I shouldn’t be too angry. And there’s more good stuff!

The first night, we all were in triage all night. The second night, he was admitted and only one of us was allowed to stay overnight. My kiddo chose my hubby to stay with him because at this point he needed help going to the bathroom and wanted a male. I was secretly a little glad because we didn’t get any sleep in triage and by now he was doing a lot better, so I wasn’t too worried.

Except the last time I left a loved-one in the hospital overnight, we got a call at 4am to come up right away because my mom was crashing. But still, I wasn’t too worried.

I texted hubby at bedtime to see how they were doing.

His temperature is 100.5, but they think maybe because he just got up (getting up to use the bathroom took him a ton of strength and effort). They gave him motrin and we’ll watch him. 

Ugh! This is not the text I wanted to see. I was talking to my sister, a former nurse, who helped me stay grounded, but it was still a bit stressful. Fevers scare me, they always have, and his fever rose so fast the day before.

At one point I almost got my shoes on, so I could be ready to rush to the hospital. I felt so sad and hopeless.

The good news is that this time, I totally nailed faith, and kicked worry to the curb. Through self-talk, meditation, and visualizing, I fell asleep peacefully that night, without worry.

It was tough because my ego would not SHUT UP! It was on a R-A-M-P-A-G-E. It kept telling me awful awful things, even making me think I’d be picking out an outfit for him to wear at his funeral and visualizing a casket. It’s so hard, because in these moments these thoughts feel like intuition. They are not. I was so triggered by being alone, the fever, unanswered questions, etc, and my Ego took this vulnerability and ran with it.

When I realized this, I started to visualize my kiddo healthy and happy, and older, and married with kids, and then as an old man. I visualized him and his dad, up at the hospital laughing and joking. I felt peaceful and looked around and felt happy and grateful for the first time in a while. I had asked hubby to text me a temperature update, but he forgot and fell asleep and I fell asleep without getting an update. Quite a far cry from my old anxious ways that I found uncontrollable.

I woke up still feeling peaceful and optimistic. This was so different than other times that I’d been stressed. Normally, I’d drink until passing out only to wake up to even more anxiety than the day before. I was really pumped that I was able to self-sooth. I didn’t even stuff my face that night, which has become a symptom of stress since quitting drinking.

I was ecstatic to not wake up with a drinking or eating-too-much hangover, and with peace in my heart <3

 

 

 

Can’t Touch This

Every now and again the Universe forces me to slow way down. This is one of those times. My oldest has had a painful cyst all week that has slowly gotten more debilitating. It’s not a common thing, so we didn’t get proper care to begin with. It started about 11 days ago. I took him in to the pediatrician about 5 days ago, and they put him on a strong antibiotic and told us he would feel significantly better in 24 hours.

In 24 hours he was in more pain. I called after hours and talked to the nurse practitioner on call. She said that the day before, when we were in the office, they asked her to look at this cyst because she has a history of working with abscesses. She told me it was a pilonidal cyst, extremely painful and that she would lance it the next day. I promised my boy that he would have relief soon.

We went in, hopeful. The ride there was awful. Every bump and stop hurt. We assured him that it would be better soon. The procedure was awful and provided him with little relief. The ride home was worse than the ride there. Finally about an hour after we got home, and he took tylenol with codeine he slept for hours.

They filled the wound with gauze (so it could heal from the inside out) and left the incision open so it can drain. He has to go back on Monday to get it worked on again.

He’s still in a significant amount of pain and can barely move. He is on a cot in the living room and we have to be attentive. He needs help with nearly everything.

The worst part is the pain and emotional toll it’s taking on him. It wasn’t this bad until this week, but has slowly gotten worse and his normally lighthearted and fun spirit has disappeared. My heart breaks every time he wakes up and I see tears in his eyes.

At 3:30 am last night, it reappeared for a second. He had to go to the bathroom, but had to use a urinal I bought (thank goodness) because he couldn’t get up without chancing great pain. Afterwards, I was trying to help him get readjusted- which is a long process with every inch right now. He looks at me and says in a sly voice, That doctor really tore me a new one. 

Now, that’s my boy! Even for a second, it was nice to see his humor.

I am trying to focus on his healing, and not the feeling of betrayal. In talking to this woman who knows abscesses, a few things really are bothering me. He should not have been put on antibiotics, they do zero good for this condition. Now that he’s on them though, he has to finish the course, or else we could have huge problems.  Also, I learned that this could have been done 5 days ago when I took him on Tuesday, if he was properly diagnosed. They wanted her to look at him, but didn’t because she was in the middle of a procedure. If she had diagnosed it, he could have had it done on Tuesday instead of waiting until Friday. I am not sharing this with him, nor am I dwelling on it. Probably shouldn’t have even written about it, but at least now maybe it’s out of my head.

I wish medical care in the United States was better. This kiddo also has diabetes, and I can’t tell you how many medical people (different professionals from both his pediatrician and endocrinologist) I talked to this week that were no help with this, and some gave me false information completely.

I can’t tell you how hopeless I felt Thursday night when he was in so much pain and I was talking to the NP. She had no power at home (we were hit with storms earlier in the week), otherwise she could have called in that tylenol with codeine (gosh I wished I had pushed more that night, it’s the only thing that has helped a little with the pain). I was worried about his pain and mobility but she said if we took him to the ER, they would likely just give him a referral because this is a rare thing. So we waited.. but didn’t find the relief we kept hearing he’d feel. In another era, she may have been able to prescribe something more helpful for pain. Sadly, too many doctors and patients abused pain medication so now people who actually need it have to jump through hoops to get anything stronger than Tylenol 3.

Lessons?

When this kid was 18 months he got idiopathic (no reason) autoimmune hemolytic anemia. He was hospitalized for a few days and given a blood transfusion and then was on steroids for a few months after.

When he was 13 years old, he was diagnosed with diabetes at a well visit. We had to take him right to the hospital where we stayed for three days, mostly getting educated about juvenile diabetes.

Now he’s 18 and he has this gosh awful weird thing. I kind of wish we were a the hospital like the times before. It was much easier, and my mind was at ease.

Yesterday, hubby was out grilling and oldest was on his cot, shaking uncontrollably (nerves, not moving his legs enough, they were seizing up). I went outside and word vomited.

I don’t think we’re equipped to deal with this. 

I think we need an ambulance to come and take him to the hospital.

He can barely move and sponge baths, we can’t do this. 

Then I realized how silly I sounded. Not to mention, understaffed hospitals aren’t much better equipped. Then I realized that this is the first big thing we’ve done without someone who knows what they’re doing right there- which maybe was partially why I was so apprehensive and still am.

This is so hard.

I’ve never had to see one of my kids in so much pain.

After arriving home from the procedure, I ran out quickly to get his prescription. On the way back, I turned up the radio, opened the windows and ugly loud cried all the way home.

I don’t know what these lessons are, but this sure seems like this situation is on repeat. As he grows into adulthood will he start to think his mom has Munchausen’s Snydrome?

So.. I really didn’t want to write this, I don’t really want to recall this event. Ever. But it does somehow help to write. Sometimes when I reread early posts, I am astonished at how much we can change our perspectives in a relatively short time.

And I have the time on this beautiful Saturday morning. I’ve had to cancel just about everything, and am more than okay with it. I don’t want to do much of anything at the moment. I was hoping to get on the Peloton today, it’s been awhile, but I’m not sure I have it in me, 1000% okay with that.

While he is like this the only time I feel okay is when I’m near him. That doesn’t sound healthy, and maybe it has something to do with losing my mom suddenly, I don’t know but also don’t care.

I need to wrap this up, but want to say that he has woken up and even though he was unable to walk to the bathroom (thank goodness I picked up that urinal), he was able to stand for a minute and is now chatting my ear off about this new law in the UK that acknowledges that crustaceans are sentient beings (he knew this would make me happy) and have to be killed more humanely. I am sooooooo happy to listen to his chattiness, that’s the sparkle I’ve been missing.

If you took a second to read this, I sure appreciate any well wishes, prayers or good vibes. I sure hope that he is finally going to start healing and get some relief <3

 

Powerless

Am I powerless?

As a whole person, I believe that’s a hard no. However, when it comes to alcohol, I bow down to it. Its seductive grip has stolen years. It’s sneaky too. It’ll creep right up on you and then gaslight you when you try to back away. It’ll get into every cell in your brain, and body. If it hasn’t started to yet, just wait. It will caste a black undertone that shields you from life’s joys. Then it becomes all you can think about.

Slowly, but surely it’ll happen. Yep, that crap is fierce and I wouldn’t touch it for anything- I am powerless over alcohol.

July 3rd

I always loved the fourth of July, as our family usually always spends it up north, with friends and family and near sun and water. But back in 2014, my mom suddenly died on July 3rd. The day she died should have been the day she met us at the cabin. Instead, my family quickly packed up and headed downstate when we found out she was sick. I never got the chance to talk to her while she was still conscious. Now I subconsciously get cranky toward the end of June. and normally go through this day with an air of heavy sadness.

I thought today would be different!

I have spent the week, and last week too, trying to prepare and take care of myself so that I’m less likely to fall apart today.  Last week was really my first week of summer and between getting Covid shots for 4 people in my house and driving my oldest to his new job (we went to secretary of state yesterday, hoping he gets his license next week) I felt super unproductive and super sad that I didn’t work on Nova (the trilogy I started last summer). It’s really hard to mentally prepare to sit and write when you know you have to get up and leave in an hour or two.

This week was much better. I still haven’t looked at Nova, but I did work out in the yard for over 20 hours. The work I did outside seemed to align with me and I enjoyed it tremendously. One day while working, a doe and her two fawns came walking through. It was amazing. I sat down by my dog and watched them explore in awe (me not them, lol) until he noticed them and I had to take him inside.

We have Cleaver ALL over and the sticky weed takes over everything. When I got to the base of the thick vine, I realize that it was often stuck to the base of the tree it was taking over, growing right up it. It’s kind of like what happens to our insides if we don’t take care of ourselves.

The Clever (negative situation/interaction causing anger- maybe overall the Clever is our anger– or fear– or both) begins to grow but is a separate entity from the tree. It’s easy to pluck out, and dispose of for good. I didn’t pluck in for years and years, and it became part of the tree. Slowly, but surely, that anger grew and grew, and took over that tree. When I started a new section all week, it was tricky at first rustling through the leaves and branches to figure out what was really the tree- and which was that invasive hate. As I hacked at the layers, the picture of the crude weed and it’s years of fierce control reared its ugly head- similar to my recovery journey. Why did it take me so long to rescue the trees? Lol.

I want to take a second to point out that I’ve recently learned that Clever isn’t just a useless weed. It actually has medicinal properties and can be used for inflammation and some other conditions. But it’s extremely invasive- similar to fear and hate, hence this entire analogy. I do plan on saving some to make tea, but would be 100% okay if it disappeared from our property forever.

Those are the before pics, here are some after:

I’ve been in a great place this week because this hasn’t been work to me. It’s soul fulfilment and giving not only myself love, but love to all the smothered trees that I’ve turned a blind eye on for way too long. I’ve gotten lost in it on multiple days. My mind running with my own words last year that wished to find an activity I could get lost in. It was said matter-a-factly, but I had no idea that my plea would be answered and I would find activities (yes plural) that I can get lost in.

So yeah, I thought I could manage today with glee, but the Universe, or God, or my mom, or whoever, thought otherwise.

Yesterday I realized that I touched some poison ivy. I’m extremely allergic and normally have to go on Prednisone or else it will keep spreading. The last time I got it, a few years ago, it didn’t get too bad and I didn’t even have to go on Pred. Pred has awful side effects and will make me gain weight- I want to avoid it at all costs. I think the Biologic medication I’m on for my RA, the one that calms my immune responses helped it to not get too bad last time. I’m praying hard that I can escape this bout without the ‘roids. However, I am so freakin’ itchy!

So, I can’t stop itching, and it’s that time of the month, a slight annoyance. And my hand/wrist is weak and sore from my RA, so I woke up last night in a lot of pain from overworking it. See, July 3rd even started out horribly in my sleep, lol, there are forces here.

It’s still early, but so far today has been okay. I woke up relieved that my ivy sores are maybe a little better, not worse. They seemed to be spreading yesterday, so I wasn’t sure what I’d wake up too (the very first time I didn’t know I was allergic and waited until half my face swelled up like a basketball before going to the doctor), and was so relieved it doesn’t seem worse.

I’m going to take it easy today. I need to make amends with my mum, and have been thinking for a long time, but more serious about it lately, that I need to write her a letter. I think that’s on the agenda for today. I’m putting it off because it’s overwhelming to think about and I know there will be a lot of tears. I also need to make those supplements the man at the bike shop in Cocoa told me about. Turmeric, garlic, cayenne pepper and ginger. Equal portions stuffed into capsules. I ran out more than a month ago and have the ingredients.

Probably no workouts till this ivy is gone, so that’s off the table for today. It’s good, I’ve worked out a lot this week and feel that my body needs a break.

I think I want to make today some sort of “soul day.” I will meditate and write outside when it warms up a bit. Maybe write that letter. I will focus on my positive connections and the activities that make me feel good (which vary on a day to day basis- which is why I can’t pre plan my summer days, well at least not if I want to be happy). It might be a lunch date with hubby, a shopping trip, working on Nova, cleaning the house, meal prepping- I don’t know what I’ll actually do, but I’m going to do whatever makes me happy at the moment.

At this moment, updating my blog is making me feel happy.

I’m going to live today, July 3rd, fully present and in the moment while honoring my beautiful mama <3

Day #829

 

 

Letting Go of a Toxic Friend

January 2021

Drinking:

First you take a drink.

Then the drink takes a drink.

Then the drink takes you.

That time I was stuck in the cycle and hubby dumped out my wine. He hated when I drank because I would disappear.

https://thedevildrinksvodka.com/tag/soberliving-soberlife/

Drinking:

One is too many and one thousand isn’t enough.

Once you take the first one, it takes over. At this point, I’m legitimately terrified of taking a drink and hope that I always feel this way.

Drinking:

One Day at a Time. Don’t think about the birthday or vacation coming up, or how you will navigate summer fun without a drink. The only thing you need to think about it today, or even this moment.

Thinking of future events can be mega overwhelming, counterproductive and sabotaging. Really, for real, don’t worry about tomorrow. Don’t give the thought of it any energy.

Learning in Progress, February 2017

That’s all! Day 662, Sunday and despite Covid restrictions, work turmoil and a whole lot of drama seeming to be everywhere, I feel that I’m holding it together okay.

I am so utterly grateful that I have my drinking under control during this time. I can’t imagine the stress and anxiety that would be piled on top of an already stressful time period.

Much love people, don’t forget the self love and to take things One Day at a Time 💖

Big Bertha

I’ve neglected our yard for years. Not exaggerating- years. 

One giant bush, in particular, has been looking really hideous. I spent all of summer 2020, and maybe even 2019, looking at the dead vines and branches covering it, and thinking that I need to cleaning it up.

Well, in late May, I saw a different picture outside my bedroom window. I saw vibrant green baby branches, trying to escape the smothering rotted vines holding them down. Suddenly, this inanimate monstrosity was speaking directly to me, and she said “help!”

And I did. 

And it was like no other yard work I’ve done before.

I got lost in it, for several days, not literally, although I can see why you might think that could happen..

Guess what? It’s over a month later and I’m still not done cleaning up Big Bertha. I did get a majority of the vines off the top, so there are lots of little Baby Birtha’s maturing nicely. 

It wasn’t stressful like yard work used to be. Instead of wondering and thinking about when I’d be done, and how great it would feel, I enjoyed working out in the hot sun doing something physical. On the days that I had to leave the bush suddenly, it was no problem, I dropped everything and knew I’d return in a few days or maybe even a week or two. 

This would have annoyed me in the past. So much that if I thought it might happen, I’d skip out on the yard work completely. How silly is that?

 

 

Bertha’s baby branches trying to survive 

Jules has been enjoying yard work too!

Can you see somewhat of an improvement?

So that’s been the theme of this summer- doing whatever makes me happy at the moment. It might be yard work. It might be reading or writing, or meditating. Or it might be a nap or to give the dog a bath. 

All while trying not to think about the end result- which is a defect of mine- and just enjoying the task at hand- without worrying about the other chores that have to get done. And if I do, then I try to catch myself and ask myself which of those things actually must to get done, if any. 

So yeah, it’s been an amazing and low stress summer so far!! Day 822 is treating me very well. 

 

Counting Days

Day 817

Humans like to count and measure. At what point does it stop serving its purpose? Who cares what day it is, we’re all just a sip away- it truly doesn’t matter, does it?

The Recovery Elevator app is full of measuring tools. Mine currently says that I’ve gained over 1,000 productivity hours and saved over 300,000 calories, along with a few other cool stats.

 

 

 

 

Now, it’s super easy.  The app pictured above counts my days for me and it’s rarely a thought of mine. It wasn’t always that simple. There were times that I didn’t even bother resetting it, yet- because I slipped, but wanted to make the sure the slip counted, so it went on for days or weeks. 

There were times that I turned it off, because I was tired of thinking about the days. And obsessive thoughts were the last thing I needed. Sometimes it would be dormant for months before I had the strength to make another promise to day one. 

But eventually, I would turn it on and accomplish a decent stretch of sobriety, meaning over thirty days. The first began in February 2017 and lasted 93 days. I had dinner with a friend and decided to order a drink. I only drank half of it and thought I was cured. After all, I had become that person who leaves behind a drink. I bought a box of wine a few days later. That half drink woke my very sleepy alcoholic voice from a deep slumber, and now it was hungrier than ever. 

The next time was towards the end of 2017 and lasted 55 days. That streak ended when my police officer uncle was hit by a car in early 2018(he survived, but with a pretty significant traumatic brain injury). I hadn’t learned to live life on life’s terms yet and the anxiety of his condition, along with whisperings that he was at the wrong hospital for a TBI and should be transported to a better equipped place immediately, was enough stress to wake up my lovely AV who once again, rose with a vengeance.  

Next was 127 days starting in spring of 2018. I messed that streak up during the summer, and didn’t get back on track until spring of 2019. I finally had enough of my own bullsh** to significantly pulverize that stupid voice that had such a firm grasp on me. 

I’ve always been a fan of counting, even in those first viscous years because it allowed me to see those patterns. But does the actual day count really matter? I’m not so sure.

I still do it because it’s fun, and seeing the days soar is a motivator for me not to break my streak. I love to celebrate the occasional exciting milestone, such as day 777 or 800 (I’m easily amused, and like 7’s and rounded numbers). 

Heck, if you really like to celebrate every sober day could be an acceptable reason. I’m known for that. Say, it’s Friday evening and I’m craving some ice cream. I check my counter and see that it’s day 792. I holler out to hubby, “Hey hubz, guess what day it is!” 

“Friday!” he replies.

“No, it’s day 792 for me!” I say while clapping my hands. “We need to celebrate! Dairy Queen?” I inquire.

“I’ll grab my keys.” he says, without missing a beat. 

Yeah, I think I’ll keep on counting. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Self Love is a Superpower

Day #808

I am this many years old (44) when I found out that self love is a superpower.

In fact, it may be the most effective force within us.

And it goes both ways.

I read something yesterday that resonated in a big way. When we don’t deal with our inner trauma, we run from ourselves. This hit me especially hard when I look at the most difficult people in my life. Describes them to a tee- they won’t or can’t deal with their trauma and therefore have become difficult/unpredictable and hateful. They continue to put themselves in harmful situations, but it is always someone else’s fault.

The trauma we hold in can stem from big, or little things. For me, it was mostly little things. For my entire life I ignored anything the least bit traumatic and packed it away to live forever in the bottom of my intestines.

Then I got sick. Sick in the mind, body and spirit.

I knew things weren’t right. We moved, had a baby, moved, had another baby, I lost my mom suddenly, we moved again, and then I surrendered to alcohol. This changed everything.

Alcohol was the only thing that quieted the subtle turmoil inside. Without it, the mind would become unbearable by evening hours, until it made me believe I deserved or needed a drink (which would then turn into drinking until passing out).

Thankfully I evolved. I got even sicker and tried many many times to stop drinking, until finally I had enough day 1’s to never want another one ever again.

When you stop numbing yourself, you start to see the truth in things.

I apologized.

I had difficult conversations.

I began to live life as I love it, instead of trying to escape it.

But it wasn’t life I was running from, it was myself, or maybe just my mind.

Now I have nothing to run from.

Sometimes, when I’m really grounded, I instinctively reach inside to find comfort.

The very thing that used to terrify me is now a source of comfort.

And knowledge, as I look inside to seek guidance.

What does this have to do with self love?

Everything.

I’ve been at both ends, and can see how loving or hating yourself affects everything in your life.

You move different. You see different. You talk different. You think different. You act different …

When we begin to love ourselves, we begin to notice all of the love around us.

We start to see the love coming from others, as our body radiates love.

We realize that we truly can do anything we put our mind to.

We stop being the victim of ourselves.

And our former scary world becomes loving and beautiful.

It’s shocking to me how this powerful nugget of knowledge remains so well hidden- like the world’s best hidden secret.

I mean, we often hear about the importance of loving ourselves, but do we really truly believe it?

I hope you believe it a little more now..

It starts with a single action of love. A bit of exercise, a nutritious meal, an overdue coffee date with a friend, a six hour Netflix binge with popcorn & ice cream (sometimes my body and spirit needs this – although its a fine line for me of self-care vs. laziness).

Sometimes it starts with not doing something. Quitting drinking, especially the first few times when I just had to trust how wonderful it would be, was a huge act of self love, and one that caused an avalanche of positivity.

Every single day I love myself by not drinking, and trust me, it’s sometime that I rarely think about, but the impact of it lives on & on.

So, will you nurture your superpower and show yourself some love today? 🧡