resilient

I Fear Me, I Fear Me Not

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

After all this time. After all these years. I still feel like a problem. I still fear the future. Fearing things that will probably never happen. I still fear being inadequate. I still fear losing everything. I still fear bodily injury. I still fear being physically unable to protect myself. I still fear not being worthy. I still fear that there’s more abuse to remember.


Not run n hide fear. Not shuddering, shaking, shivering fear. This is a different, insidious terror that habitually shortens my exhale. That lives in my chest wall, drawing my left shoulder up. That creeps inside of my lower facial muscles, adding tone and twitches and tight. The terror that steals the white of my eyes, their vibrant sparkle, absent once more. Replacing the white with a dryer, dusty pink.

Fear of not measuring up, of being found out for not being the best, not being in the know, of not being brilliant, not being happy, fear of having fear… Fear that others might see my imperfection, my angry, my jealousy, my procrastination, disgust, my light, my compassion, my heart, my gratitude, my self love. Fear that others might see my HUMAN.

exploration · Human Spirit · resilient

Alive Underneath

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Looking for some inspiration today I stumbled upon this Wintery scene. Quiet, frozen and crunchy. Alive underneath but who would know? Who could tell? My desire for inspiration, stirring. Alive, underneath these Winter layers. We sit. Simmering, planning, fantasizing about the greatest of possibilities. Maybe adding some sparkle and intrigue to our lives, our existence. What rubbish can we dispose of? Can we be doing more? What’s really important? What’s fluff in our lives? What do we keep? Feed? What do we watch die off? Freeze? These cold, crunchy layers of Winter-ness masking, the ME, the YOU, the US. But yet the seduction of mid-Winter hibernation, stagnation, complacency is victorious. For ME? I’m still spying for some inspiration, the ME I aspire to be. Underneath it all.

resilient

I scare the shit out of me

A Fish Named Karen2 Comments

I can fabricate the scariest circumstances as possible outcomes in my life. And it’s all in my mind.

So why don’t I know this? Why don’t I stop myself before I get on the 3 a.m. terror train? This is something I learned as a young child and perfected as I got older- we are all good at something, right? Lol. In sitting and observing, noticing how I do this to myself today, I realized that although at one time (the scaring) was useful as a motivator to be prepared, organized, have a plan and keep me safe from harm, this is of absolutely no use to me as an adult and actually has me functioning from “fight or flight” response.

None of it EVER transpires anything like the scenario I’ve created! None of it EVER will! Things always work out for the best in the end. Things always work out for me – yet when I’m faced with difficult circumstances …I scare the shit out of myself.

Just watching. Noticing. Remembering that everything always works out, everything. Every time, over n over. But for some reason I need to scare the shit out of Me so I can prepare all the possible scenarios that MIGHT transpire. This is no longer a useful pattern today. I need to lean into this is scary and watch myself be scared and also be a witness to myself preparing and controlling NOTHING. I’ll wait it out and know that everything will be just fine.

Dear ME,

STOP scaring the shit out of us!!! preparing for an ancient, silent battle that no longer needs to be fought. You know things always work out. Cut the shit and know we are ok. Sometimes just naming the fear lessons it’s grip on us. Call that fucker out, it’ll be less potent once named and seen. As many times a day as you need to, call on your breath to replace the need to “do”.

Love your guts babe, ME

resilient

What’s A Little Pressure?

A Fish Named Karen2 Comments

Pressure can create magnificence, like this Amethyst. I wonder if, facing constant, imposed pressure, this gem ever thought:

OMG, how much longer?, What’s the use?, When will it happen?, Is it ever gunna happen for me?, Everyone else is accomplished, why am I not there yet?, What am I doing wrong?
Or did it just acknowledge the presence of pressure? Welcoming, inviting, pausing for as long as it takes to settle into something fabulous…

addiction · resilient

When A Cricket Sings

A Fish Named Karen5 Comments

My ringtone is crickets. No accident. Yes, I do love insects but this was different. Healing past wounds- the devastating kind- CHANGES who you most deeply are. Much of your old life falls away, an unavoidable side effect, sometimes feels like a mean trick. I assumed my life would improve, things would get better, people would support me, my efforts, right? CRICKETS. Slowly, everything I knew melted away – some with the stench of hot garbage on an August afternoon – ok, a thousand August afternoons. Transformation was mine…my mistrust, anxiety, terror, shame and anger – making way for new levels of aliveness and renewed sense that the world is so much more than what I was led to believe. My family of origin supportive of this? Crickets.

Then, I took a long hard look at who I had chosen to surround myself with. Oh boy. Tough to realize most around me were asleep, not fully living. I had attracted folks who wouldn’t expect more from ME. I was safe, I didn’t have to change. I was just existing, functioning. And so were they. We all were doing the best we could with what we knew at the time. Living on autopilot. Autopilot, for most my friends, was running on substance. Not to be judgy, cause substance is a great support, an essential life-saver for many- but as I moved further from that, as I began healing, I ached for people to be better, do better. I suffered FOR them, for their emptiness. The baggage they continued to carry around, slowly killing them. Yet I could see their potential, I could see the beautiful hearts, the generous souls, the depth of their story, the way they let someone else dictate how their life turned out. Still honoring the hand that continued to hold them down…Living? NO. Existing? Yes. Crickets.

Crickets. Deafening. It’s my fault. I’ve basically swapped one hell for another. Healing deeply has it’s potholes. I wanted more. More from those who were unaware and unable to be present. Suffrage central. I wanted connection with people who have no connection with themselves. I wanted to be heard and seen. With invisible friends. I wanted them to be present, feeling, deep. Too much to ask. Way too much to get from those who just cannot function where I am. Way too much to ask from those who just cannot function where they are. I was never victorious in the war against their love for substance, I never would be – with them fighting against me. Such a great fantasy tho. I watched them cycle – the distractions, numbing, dumbing down their light with food, alcohol, busyness, shopping, gaming, cleaning and playing victim – work for them. No way in hell can I compete with that…Who am I to want more from them? Who am I for wanting more love, more of their time? They are doing their best.

But yet, I am so worthy. Worthy of closeness, being cherished, being leaned on, trusted, loved, seen, heard. You know, all the things friends do, have and are. So I suck. I lose. I am alone. Crickets. Free from so much of my weighty baggage. Yay, but wasn’t I always alone? From the very beginning, I have been on my own. Surrounded by so many, I guess I never knew, never felt it. I would have denied that I felt lonely. Apparently fine with minimal connection. I was fine with taking the back seat to alcohol. If I had only remained asleep. If only I had not broken out of my family unit. If only I could live in the non-reality of it all. I might not be an option in so many people’s lives.

Who the fuck am I kidding? Crickets… Maybe the crickets have the answer. They sing at night, alone at first and eventually, there are many. Some singing in unison, some continue their own tune. All respectful of each other’s voice, creating beauty wherever they land. Staying true to themselves, hopping away to find comfort, staying only where it’s safe and pleasant. No asking other crickets for permission, just crickets, doing their crickety thing. Every day a new day – maybe going it alone, maybe having some company to sing their life song. This, I wish for all.

resilient

Need For The Sake of Need

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Need. Having needs is part of the human experience. Most of us were taught that expressing a “need” was/is weird, sappy, weak, even selfish or mean. We also may stand in our own way of getting what is needed due to low self worth, not being able to express/form a need or feel humiliated for “needing” in the first place. The need for a quiet space, the need for someone to help us lift or move something heavy, the need to be listened to, acknowledged, the need to show emotion without it being a problem, the need for rest, the need to be honest and real without being cast as negative, the need to be who we are without apology.
Many of us stop ourselves from reaching out in need. As children we learn not to ask, we learn to handle things ourselves, be ultra-independent, stuff our hurts, emotions, fears, ignore bodily functions, even pass up food and drink – too avoid looking like we are too much work for our parents. In our little minds, it makes perfect sense to play and live small. Don’t appear weak, act like you know things that you possibly couldn’t know (no one has to spend the time on us, we are less of a burden) be self sufficient, keep everyone happy with us cause we are no trouble at all, no one will laugh at our needs if we keep them secret and deny that we have any. Everyone will love me and not think I’m a pain in the patootie.
As we grow into adults, away from our families of origin, We may never be met with ANY of this shaming responses around our need..

REMEMBER the world is not our family of origin.
We are most likely NOT going to be met with the attitude of our “family”. But sometimes it does feel as though we don’t want to stick our neck out with others for fear we will be humiliated (like we were as small children) all over again – just for having a simple need.
I think on some unconscious level we assume that others will negate our needs or ignore our expression of need. But to the contrary, in my experience, non-family members are not poised to fuck with our “need”. Take a chance. Take notice of what you say or do to stop yourself from getting your needs met cause now we’re just doing this to ourselves. WE are the snuffers of our own need, the dark blanket dimming our own light , the doubters of our own worth. Take notice of how you place the blame elsewhere.

Uncategorized

Welcoming Committee

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Suicide – present situation

Guess what? That shit started 50 something years ago. Not HIS job, not HIS ex wife, not HIS daughter who decides to be a man now, not HIS crazy neighbor who throws garbage over the fence, no no no nope. Of course all that shit does not help but when someone decides to take his/her self out of this realm – it’s very tragic, gut wrenching. Of course! And leaves the living wondering what the fuck we could have done to help.

The answer ? Who the fuck knows. What I do know though, is that it is truly not our responsibility, ultimately, to keep someone alive. I know, that sounds bad. Really bad. There’s a boatload of guilt waiting for us if we feel we can save someone and it turns out badly. News flash… sadly, anything we’ve done or haven’t done is not going to keep someone else here.

Having a particular, recent person in mind ———–Someone taught HIM to hate himself. Someone taught HIM to feel like he had no right to be born, exist or thrive. SOMEONE got into HIS head, into his body, into his essence and implanted that self-hate agenda REAL SUPER early in HIS life. Crazy-ass fucked up treatment for a child. As children, we cannot make sense of this. Most children just internalize the trauma coming their way and believe they deserve it – after all, we need love, even if that love hurts, it’s still better than nothing. So then, most times, we spend the rest of our lives mistreating ourselves because deep inside, on some level, we think we are garbage.

All the other unfortunate circumstances HE drew to himself (along the way, over the years) were for the purpose of healing. IMO. The Universe’s attempt to crack HIM wide open. Some of us cannot/will not/do not EVER muster the willingness to unpack that shit. Unpack the black box of death. The box labeled with the skull and crossbones – and heal the trauma that hides in the shadows and rips us apart each and every minute of our lives.

HE missed his life raft opportunity – by choice. HE ignored the life-raft attempts, HE was tired of the struggle and just couldn’t see the big picture …there wasn’t enough alcohol or drugs in the world to keep the darkness from bubbling up into conscious thought. The nagging feelings of worthlessness and doom mounting until the burden of forging onward was too excruciating.

I attempted to end my life when I was 7. How fucking tragic would that have been? All because of the unspeakable trauma I was experiencing at the time, most nights of the week. The weight of physical/emotional/spiritual trauma, compounded year, after year, after year, is suffocating – all while pretending that everything is fine. Trying to forget, burying the pain and hate and rage and crushing anxiety. You convince yourself that no-one else would understand or, for that matter, believe you anyways. There is shame and guilt and self hate and secrecy.

Some of us seem to find our way. We are able, with lots of help, to eventually breathe life into the parts of us that died.  We are able to separate from the tragic family unit we were born into. We are able to dig deep, form a new self and find a reason to live, to fight – and know that no matter what, we have to survive because otherwise, we won’t “win” – THEY will. And that would not be acceptable.

No matter how fast and long we run – our terror, shame and rage are on the welcoming committee upon our arrival.  Wherever we run, they’re there when we pull in. Our shadow is always waiting patiently for us to notice it and drag up a chair at a table set for two. Maybe share a cozy meal as we chat over the brutal details we’ve been running from all of our lives. Taking small portions or maybe just an appetizer today.

Or not. Maybe we don’t unpack that shit and take a look. Maybe we can’t. This is a set-up for possible eventual suicide. Trust. Please start unpacking your shit. You are lovable, you are seen and you have the right to be here. And to stay here, loved.

childhood

Kids Don’t Care About Your Schedule

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I miss looking under rocks for cool bugs to put in our bug-house. I miss packing a thermos of hot chocolate, 3 sandwiches and grabbing a loaf of stale bread to spend quality time with the beach seagulls.  20160108_220334880_iOSI miss creating a paper chain – one link for each December day with a fun activity written on each one. I miss nightly foot massages with mint foot creme. I miss getting tricked in the back yard, “Mom, there’s a coyote behind you”. I miss going to the pet store to visit with a dog even though we never brought one home. I miss writing with chalk on the driveway and tracing our bodies. I miss going for a walk in the woods after a snowstorm to see how deep the snow was. Lying in the snow and looking at the blue Winter sky. Snow angels and forts. Coloring the snow with spray bottles of water and food coloring. I miss homemade birthday parties in the yard. Pinatas, tractor rides with b-day friends all peering through binoculars on a pretend safari ride through the backyard woods spying for parrots in the trees.  I miss scoring (1-10) the jumps, dives and cannonballs into the pool, over and over. I miss hosting “Mom’s kitchen” – a fictitious restaurant that breaks out in the kitchen. I play hostess, waitress and line cook in a matter of minutes, listing every possible food item in the fridge -appetizer, entrée, sides, dessert, drink, etc. and take their orders on my “order pad”. (a great way to get rid of straggler food in your fridge and make your kids feel special at the same time, win, win)

My boys are no longer little boys and I’m so glad we made these memories. Sometimes we don’t realize how good we had it. What often felt like a pain in the ass or too many things on our plate was plain and simple – the magic of life. Real and raw, unfolding in ways we couldn’t have guessed. Gratitude for lives that saw the value in each other and the deep understanding that lives just under the surface. Gratitude for trying my best as a Mom despite the insane role model I had.

Love your babies. Be ridiculously spontaneous. Kids don’t give a shit about your schedule. Everyday is wide open and fun. Give them your full attention and presence, as much as you can. Expose them to nature (I think the greatest gift of all) – create, build, explore.  And for Christ’s sake, put down the stupid phone.  This. Pure gold.

Uncategorized

Peace Is More Important

A Fish Named Karen1 Comment

I really feel sick with what is going on in this world. Not fearful, just disgusted. Honestly I listen to/watch very little TV and other Media. I can’t hold the untruths, twisted facts, never ending speculation, angry rants, discussions that somehow always go to shit, wasted energy in attempts to be “right” or smarter than the next.

I have no space for this. How bout the reported death of stars that are total lies, frivolous, unbelievable lawsuits- millions of dollars paid out for hurt feelings. Convicted murderers complaining about the meals in prison, bla bla bla. Everyone has an opinion, the entitlement is at an all time high. I feel so very saddened for the victims of violence, people who didn’t stand a chance. Wrong place. Wrong time. Too many versions of the “truth” make me dizzy.

Our personal peace is more important now than ever – when it seems as though evil makes the world go round. I’m weaving kindness and compassion into my days…giving supplies to a needy stranger who looks into my eyes and we both well up. Helping a frail elderly man to enter his name on a Quest intake computer screen. Telling a Stop n Shop Mom who’s frustrated with the push-back of her pre-teen son, that she’s a good Mom (we both shed a tear). Taking the time to be curious about what a stranger has in her bag – finding out she wrote a book and then purchasing it from her.

Supporting, opening our hearts, listening, being present, seeing others in their joy, their pain, their anger, ESPECIALLY in their struggle with not wanting to be alive. Our growing of ourselves HAS HUGE IMPACT ON OTHERS! The ripples travel and touch lives we may never know about. Little by little we are lighter, able to hold space for others, and make less fear based moves in our lives. None of us are getting out of here alive. Let’s honor each other’s struggles. No matter what happens around us, there can be stillness within.

appreciation · Uncategorized

Rain

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

Rain gifts us an invitation to heal through our senses. Our shoulders, held high with unresolved fears, may drop a little lower as we imagine the raindrops as a shower of peace and tranquility enveloping our physicality. The smell of rain conjures up feelings of a warm summer day when time seems to stand still as we soak in the suns presence on our thirsty skin.

Rain tastes like fresh ideas, rich with aliveness and hope, breathing in, taking in all life has to provide, we are brand new. We hear rain as a familiar tune, beckoning us to listen to its intoxicating message of “all is well”. We may see the rain but do we really SEE the rain? With our awareness on observing the watery veil that forms on our environment, we may accept or decline an invitation to be present, in the space between our thoughts.

If only…..when it rains.

Uncategorized

In Love #6

A Fish Named KarenLeave a comment

I’m in love with warm sand. Toasty crystals warming my piggy toes on a sandy beach. Each grain telling its tale of far away places and a belonging to something greater, bigger than us. Pressured, eroded, carried and now appreciated in all its glassy glory. Pink, tan, purple, black, white – all welcomed and worthy. Taking a mason jar full, back to cloudy, cold spaces. Sand working its warm magic on cold, jaded hearts. Suggesting that we savor our warm fantasies as Winter is upon us.

Sprinkling this mineral magic in a table labyrinth. Inviting visitors to trace paths with miniature rakes and shovels. A path to the ocean, a valley or mountain range. A tactile field-trip if just for a moment. We are lifted to a space abundant in warmth and possibility. Warm sand soothes the sole soul.