personal

Wardrobe Choices

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I’ve been working my way through the book The Simple Abundance Companion by Sarah ban Breathnach. It goes with the daily reader Simple Abundance which I read many years ago. The books are about getting in touch with your Authentic Self, the inner you that can sometimes get lost in midst of life’s demands.,

Today’s reading was about selecting a wardrobe that reflects the real you and doesn’t just reflect the current trends and fashions, or the clothes you’ve been hauling around for years because they still fit.

I’ve been in the process of losing weight and have actually gone down two sizes. So I’ve been buying clothing, mainly at thrift stores, to keep me clothed in things that fit. My main question related to clothing right now is, “Does it fit?” I haven’t been asking questions about is it my style, or is it right for me, or does it express what I want to show?

But eventually I’ll be at the end of this weight loss journey and I’ll be looking for clothes that will stay with me for a while. Clothes that I want to have express the real me (still working on what that means for me). What sort of questions will I need to ask then?

In the Companion book, she has some questions that she suggests someone ponder when trying to find what wardrobe style will suit them. Some of the questions/statements include:

  • Does it make you smile?
  • What are items of clothing you have that make you feel beautiful? Do they have anything in common?
  • Which clothes make you feel relaxed and comfortable?
  • Check out colors at a paint store. Examine the color swatches and see which colors speak to your soul.
  • Everything in your closet should make you feel beautiful and/or comfortable.

The clothes that make me feel the most beautiful are a short-sleeved above-the-knee black dress, a long-sleeved dark gray A-line dress, and a forest green shirt dress. A favorite pair of boots gets worn with two of these dresses. What do they have in common? They’re all dresses. And simple, and pretty casual. Dark colors. I dress them all up or down with jewelry choices. Hm. I don’t think of myself as much of a dresses sort of person, but isn’t that interesting that I feel the most beautiful when wearing a dress. I wouldn’t have realized that without doing this exercise.

I feel the most relaxed and comfortable in jeans, long-sleeved t-shirts, and sweaters. Or jammies. But I can’t wear jammies out in public. Well, I suppose I could wear them out in public … but I don’t choose to.  😉

Next time I’m at the thrift store doing some clothing shopping to replace the clothes that no longer fit, I think I’m going to make a point of checking out the rack of dresses.

A personal retreat

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I’d been feeling restless. My job is just a job. I kept sensing there’s something more I could be doing that would bring more fulfillment or more … something. Partly, I knew I needed a vacation, so I scheduled two weeks off.

And then the idea came to me to take a short Personal Retreat. A time of focus, and questions, and maybe even some answers (if I got lucky).

The horse camp I went to as a kid has become a guest ranch for anyone, so I decided to take a trip back in time and spend three nights at Flying Horseshoe Ranch in Cle Elum, Washington.

I had a book I’d planned to work through (Something More by Sarah ban Breathnach). I brought a big blank sketchbook for notes, doodles, whatever. I brought simple food I could heat up in the in-room microwave so I didn’t have to worry about scrounging for food in town. Brought along CDs of a favorite poet/teacher to listen to in the car.

It was an interesting time. Peace and quiet. Heartache and joy. Physical pain (my bad hip didn’t care for horseback riding). I have a notebook now with lots of thoughts outlined for further reflection. I didn’t know when I started this process how many answers I’d have at the end of the Retreat, or if I’d just end up with further questions. Now looking back, I think it’s a little of both. I feel some sense of direction, but there are many details to figure out.

Coming home, I felt rejuvenated, but also exhausted. I took a good nap, hung out with my cats, and spent some time on my back deck working more in my notebook. I want to bring some of the Retreat habits back home with me. I don’t want to lose the momentum that started with this time away. It’ll be interesting to see what the long term effects are from this time of concentrated reflection and self-care.

Over the next week, I’m going to share more about the practical how-to steps I followed for my personal retreat, and I’ll also share a few of the insights and answers I received. Honestly, I hope it’s just the beginning of an on-going journey and exploration.

snapshots of the ward

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fig. 1

I thought the hallways would be cold and sterile. Unpadded tile floors. Echoing with footsteps and wheeled meal carts. Tile would make it easier to clean. Instead, the halls were warm and quiet. Dark carpet (to hide stains?) and the soft shuffle shuffle shuffle of patients doing their laps of the ward in their non-skid hospital slipper socks.

fig. 2

The front desk holds the list of unwelcome visitors. I find myself thankful I made my list. The person I least want to see shows up as a visitor. Why? To gloat over my breakdown? To shame me? To apologize? To make up? I’ll never know. But even just the thought of seeing them sent me into a panic attack and a need for meds.

fig. 3

The lunchroom is the hub of patient life. Coffee. Snacks. Puzzles. Every jigsaw puzzle is missing at least one piece. It’s almost a form of torture. Do they do it on purpose to test our ability to handle stress? My puzzle partner has OCD and the end of the puzzle sends her to her room shaking. This can’t be therapeutic. But there it is.

fig. 4

Occupational therapy is called arts-and-crafts or “going to camp” by the patients. We’re going to decorate light switch covers. The man next to me starts to cry quietly. “Are you okay?” I whisper. He wipes his eyes and whispers back, “I’m homeless. Where am I going to put a light switch cover?” I feel a sniffle of my own coming on and give him a quick sideways hug. The therapist says loudly, “No touching the other patients!” Oops. In trouble for being compassionate. Everyone looks at us like we’d been making out in art class.

the Monster

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no one was there
when doom entered
there was no shelter
this was no gesture
this was the Monster
there’s no scarier beast
it demands surrender
in the fight within myself

Mania poems

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I put together a small collection of poems and other writings that I wrote from the perspective of someone with Bipolar Disorder.  I thought about putting them into a small book, but I’ve just never come to a point where I’m comfortable with that. Not sure I’m comfortable putting them here on my blog, either, so I may end up removing this if it gets too scary.  Self-disclosure can be frightening.

Click below to open a pdf file containing all of the writings.

Mania Poems

Expressive Writing

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Someone recently told me about a writing technique, Expressive Writing, that’s supposed to help a person to process difficult situations. It’s a three day process that requires twenty minutes a day. I tried it out and found it somewhat helpful, so I thought I’d share about it here.

On the first day, you write for twenty minutes (either typed or handwritten) about the general situation. Write whatever comes to mind. Let it flow out of you. You’re not writing for anyone else to read, so don’t edit yourself. After you’ve completed your twenty minutes writing time, reread it one time. Then delete it (or tear it up and throw it away if handwritten).

On the second day, do the same thing but this time spend time looking more deeply at an aspect of the situation. Once again, after you’ve completed your twenty minutes writing, delete it (or otherwise destroy it).

On the third day, focus your writing on the here-and-now. On the present time. On where things stand today. After twenty minutes, reread it, and destroy it.

And that’s it.

I chose to write about a very painful topic from a few years ago that had been haunting me lately. I’d been having nightmares and disturbing thoughts about it throughout the day. I was afraid that maybe writing about it might bring it too much to the forefront of my mind, and that scared me a little bit. Then I realized it was already taking up space in my day, and perhaps just focusing on it directly might give me a release of some sort.

I do feel a bit better after going through the process. I might try it with a different situation just to see how it goes. If there’s something haunting you, maybe it might bring some relief.

Imagine

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imagine the thing
you love most
imagine it gone
vanished
nothing

imagine someone takes
every meaningful moment
of your life
every warm memory
every loving conversation
takes a hammer
to each delicate bit
smashes them like glass animals
shattered into slivers
that cut and bleed
you attempt to repair
and fail
you attempt again
and fail

imagine your life
as feathers tied together
with a silk cord
someone cuts the cord
the feathers float away
catching them is pointless
but you try anyway
and fail

imagine rage
imagine heartache
imagine dying
of a broken heart

why are you still crying?
you can’t find the words
you are ragged
you are dead
you are without hope
you are alone
where do you start
to stop
the crying?
how do you start
to stop
the tears?
how do you find
a reason
or purpose
for starting?

imagine yesterday
is shattered glass

imagine today
you are walking barefoot
through the shards
imagine tomorrow
there is no sun

(from Grief Song: An experience of loss)

Unknown Futures

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I’ve been doing a lot of contemplating lately about the paths and journeys we take into unknown futures.  Here are today’s ruminations.  (first draft, very rough)

How do you live best? Being true to yourself is being present in the moment.

We’re all on a pilgrimage. Often overwhelmed by circumstances. Look back to where you came from. Look forward to the horizon. Look up. What is your relationship to the horizon? To the future? Who will benefit from the place where you are? Who needs to receive your song?

The transitions of our lives are like living with storms, weather, rain. We need to shape our lives to meet the demands of the weather. In the presence of something new, we don’t yet know how to be in conversation with the new circumstance. We have to get over ourselves. We have to get out of our own way.

Do the brave thing. Take the path to your future. Begin by not denying any part of yourself. Bring the frightened parts of you along the path. Look at the parts of your life you don’t want to look at. Finding these parts comes out of silence. Listening to our deepest interior voices. Are there wells you don’t want to drink from? Grief? Regrets? Mortality? It’s tempting to give ourselves easy, unsubstantial answers. Speaking to ourselves in trite clichés. Spend time in silence, listening for the wisdom to speak. Then speak out of silence. Tell the story. Make your story.

Don’t run from vulnerability. It’s going to become the foundation for where you’re going. Helplessness comes with great loss. We don’t appreciate what we have, until it—or they—are gone. Helplessness and loss are like medicine leaving a bad taste in your mouth. We turn away from these experiences, not realizing we need to go deeper in. The full depth of the experience of loss brings knowledge, wisdom, and a reshaping of our lives we would’ve never experienced without the loss. Don’t wait until their deathbed to reach out to loved ones with your true self. Do it now. Be present fully in the moment. Be your authentic self.

Be the person your future self will always remember with thanksgiving.

~Debi

34jkie

Childhood Fears: The basement

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you know what sounds good right now my grandfather
asked from the red recliner by the front window

a nice big bowl of ice cream from the deep freeze
what do you think Squirt want to go down to the freezer

Squirt was me and I was having nothing to do
with going down into the haunted basement

there be monsters a sign should read above the door
or beware of the portal to Hell or doorway to death

the first three steep steps had no handrail
so it seemed like stepping off into the abyss

uncarpeted glossy wood slippery to child sized shoes
no traction no handhold a sudden fall an instant death

I don’t want ice cream but my grandparents
insisted I conquer my fear of the basement

staring down into the chasm I could almost see the monsters
starring back at me from dark empty shelves

my grandfather’s power tools could be nightmares come to life
the deep freeze grumbled threateningly from the darkest corner

I could tell where the witch hid which corners the ghosts crouched
I knew what lived underneath the workbench

going to the basement for ice cream meant a battle
with my deepest fears fear of falling of slipping of dying

fear of dark corners and empty shelves of mythical monsters
and cunning beasts all waiting for my small self to wander in

all waiting for grandpa to want ice cream grandpa I said
can you come with me he just chuckled you’ll be all right

the monsters and creatures and witches may not have been real
but the fears and the deep terror in my heart were

one more night I faced the monsters alone and wished someone
would hold my hand and show me gently the way to safety

Chores. Ugh, who wants to do chores?

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When I feel badly about myself and about life, I tend to let things around me fall apart. Especially housekeeping. My house hasn’t been “company-ready” in several years due to events that kept me feeling badly about myself and about life. I’ve been feeling much better lately, though. Hope, joy, sunshine. I think the clouds finally parted.

This past month, I’ve spent my free time digging my way out of my mess. It wasn’t hoarder-level mess, but it was a mess none-the-less. When I realized I wasn’t even willing to let one of my best friends into my house anymore, I knew I had to get a handle on it.

I tried pulling out my old Chore Lists, but it was just too overwhelming to only be doing a little each day. I needed to do a lot each day to dig myself out. So I spent my free time in April working on my house. Sorting, cleaning, asking if things bring me joy, and I can finally see the light.

On Friday, I pulled out a Chore List to see if I was now at the point where I could work with this particular technique that has worked well for me in the past. I did Friday’s chores. And after all the heavy duty chores I’ve been doing lately, just doing a small list of daily chores felt like nothing. But it made a big difference. It’s amazing how even just a gentle reminder to make your bed can give you a feeling of accomplishment when you actually follow through.

If you just need some help keeping up on the dailyness of housework, you might want to take a look at my Chore Lists (they’re printable and free by click here). I just print out a copy of the current week’s List, hang it on the fridge, and mark things off as I accomplish them. When my kids still lived at home, we would work on the Chore Lists as a family, and everyone could easily see what had been done, and what still needed doing.

It’s so nice to feel like I can have people over again without feeling ashamed of my house (which made me feel ashamed of myself which just contributed to the whole vicious shame cycle). I hope by keeping up on the Chore Lists, I can keep the downhill slide (housewise) from happening again. We’ll see.

I don’t keep up on it much anymore, but my homemaking blog, I’m Not Susie Homemaker, is a Nag Free Zone if you’re looking for some kind, friendly thoughts on digging out of the dailyness of chores and housework.  Like it or not, housework’s gotta be done at some point.  Take it from me, procrastination just makes it worse. Boy, oh boy, do I know that one from personal experience.

Join me? I don’t think I’m the only person who struggles with this.

~Debi

https://notsusiehomemakerblog.wordpress.com/weekly-chore-lists/