Under the Embers

Birdhouse in Your Soul

What Other People Think of Me…

… is none of my business. It is liberating to remember. I chronically struggle in this preoccupation, like having seasonal allergies. When afflicted, it pendulums between a persistent dull discomfort to a more severe agony. Other times, I am free of this concern completely, and feel a sense of abundance. I can attribute my troubles to many things; a lonely and invalidating childhood, poor choices in friendships, lack of stability, DHS PTSD*, being an intense person (etc, etc, etc). However, when I am centered and confident, these things don’t get me down. I tend not to dwell, and I am at peace. When I am happy, I feel on top of the world, and to that end I am grateful that I am often a very happy person!

Just Because it is True…

… doesn’t necessarily mean it is applicable. I am sensitive and aware of people and patterns. I easily tune in, and I have a strong memory. I notice trends, and I often can see or feel certain things both intuitively and using basic logic. And I am happiest when I take note and move along. I have no interest in being other adults’ emotional babysitters; it is not my responsibility. If I feel like there is more to the story, there probably is. If I sense that people are talking about me behind my back, they probably are. If I notice change and inconsistency and resentment, then I have strong observational skills.

I do not have to act on any of these, base my assessment of my value on it, or change. My condition does not have to match the opinions of those around me. My experiences do not have to be shaped by opinion. I have the power of choice. I am a consenting and aware adult. If I don’t like the song on the radio, I have every right to change it. Or I can shut up and deal until it changes on its own. I certainly have no excuse for feeling victimized.

Have I Mentioned…

… how empowering it is to have boundaries? I am reminded of middle school English class: use active voice, not passive voice. When I exercise good boundaries, I do not feel passive. If I am swinging on my pendulum, it is a fair guess that I need to review my boundaries. When I respect myself, I tend to feel respected and valued. The easiest way to feel respect for myself it to honor my boundaries.

I think of a washer machine: Pause when agitated.

Just pause. Then rinse. Let it spin dry before calling it clean. Trust that the dryer will catch the fuzz and lint.

If I feel like I must act, it is usually time to be still. If I want to balk and avoid, there are things that I need to do. When I am still, I am listening to myself and honoring my needs. If I remember to do that first, my footwork can take me further. When I feel stuck, it is time to move forward by simply doing the next right thing, again and again. “Baby steps, Bob.”

Oh Duh:

I realized recently, that if I am feeling lonely, it makes more sense to reach out than to sulk. I know, right?

Blue Hair:

Zion really wants to dye his hair again. Blue (again). I have no problem with this, really. It is easy to do, it does not damage his hair, it will eventually wash out completely, and it looks pretty neato. I find myself (irrationally?) anxious about helping him have radically vibrant hair right as he is starting a brand new school… in the middle of the year… with a well-established community that all know each other. This is more alternatively-slanted charter school. I am sure that it will be no problem. But I just want my kid to be liked. And for no one to speculate that I am in some way a bad mother*.

I’m going to let him do it, of course. I think that he will have his mohawk touched up soon, too. I stand by my feelings that hair is such an available and harmless personal medium for expression, design, and play.

Song of the Day:

Construct a miniature aviary domicile in your metaphysical theory of spiritual consciousness.

* A scrambled brain concerning past and current affairs involving my biological siblings and family composition.

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