Category: Wobble

Navigating Your Dash: Finding Meaning in Every Moment

A friend recently told me that life is lived in ‘the Dash’ – or the line between your birth and death as written on one’s headstone. The Dash is the all-encompassing of living a life and not necessarily a life “well-lived”. What we do in “the Dash” really is all there is. The Dash is the realm of all possibilities, big and small. When we see life from the top down, like we are managing ‘the Dash’, the possibilities feel endless. However, when we look at life from within the Dash, do we really have the perspective we need? How much of “the Dash” is real and what is imagined by me as part of living my life?

I’ve been feeling of late that I need to get out of my own way as I navigate my Dash. After many years of working for someone else, my own creativity is now interrupting my ideas of what should be for me in retirement. What I didn’t truly understand is how my coping behaviors did not leave any mental space for any new ideas that might have helped shape a life. Many times, I see things that I’m hopeful for versus what truly is. Can a person have an imaginary Dash from reality? And, isn’t that also part of one’s Dash? Too many questions to answer – yet – I think I found my own personal answer. I love the idea of the possibility of a life that moves up and down around a centering thought of love and gratitude – and without judgment of self and others. This realization came from a recent experience and pointed to how I want to navigate my personal Dash.

Let me correct this: I don’t want to navigate my Dash. I want to LIVE my Dash. Feels different, doesn’t it? My first experience was amazing and I’m looking to bump along in my Dash from this vantage point. A vantage point that throws the idea of a random life out the window and where we institute a mindset that nothing is random and all is guided by our feelings and thoughts. Getting these (feelings and thoughts) correct is our Dash work. Here is an example:

I recently began working on jigsaw puzzles as part of my effort to be intentional with my time. Sitting with a puzzle piece, contemplating its placement on my landscape of colorful abstracts, slowed time down to a molasses-like pace. (Yeah, me!) This is key because, as a child, I struggled with sitting still and focusing on something like a puzzle. Or coloring book. The only way I would sit is if I was playing with my mother’s change because I was busy doing the addition and subtraction in my head. Until I began to play video games as an adult, I really couldn’t sit still as my brain always raced and propelled me to move. My job as an auditor was especially challenging and I became a master at distraction to hold my interest and focus. Many times, I would be found pacing or doing something totally inane to help me focus. My diagnosis last year of ADHD (Gray Ladies Unite) explained away many of the ‘crazies’ and I was finally capable of seeing my behavior as normal – for me – and be okay with the restlessness. This mental approval of myself had been what I was missing for my entire adult life; I’m not complaining for this way of self-berating behavior gave me this life I am now enjoying. I just now need to repair the toll of decades of self-judgment that was unchecked because this judgment made me successful. Part of that repair was embarking a self-discovery journey, including therapy.

As part of my retirement, I began a weekly ‘walking’ exercise in my town. Outside of our meeting area was a bookshelf containing books and puzzles for a causal exchange. I took my first puzzle earlier this year to try out my ability to focus and concentrate. The first few times were tough as I kept getting up to do something else – usually something needed cleaning. I became increasing frustrated and began to recognize that my need to get up and move was how I learned to cope with the restlessness.

Over a few months, I did quite a few puzzles, from nature scenes to country life. The ability to sit and understand the compulsion to always ‘get up’ and ‘do’ allowed me to now manage my mindset. What a shift! I began to seek out a new puzzle each week to practice sitting still and focusing. A few months ago, I was looking for a puzzle and just couldn’t decide. I turned my attention away from the shelf when a puzzle landed on my foot, opening up, and the contents (thankfully already placed in a slider storage bag) spilled out. This was near impossible because the puzzle almost had to be pushed to land in such a manner. The box is two inches thick and sturdy. To fall on my foot from three feet away, open up, and spill it contents was not normal. OK, Universe, color me intrigued. I was stunned to quiet which does take effort!

I picked up the puzzle and took it home with me like a secret treasure, a knowing. (No, it was a painting of a lighthouse on a cliff.) After completing the puzzle, I sat back and waited for lightening to strike, so sure that the epiphany would be immense. After all, the puzzle flew at me! (By the end of the story, this puzzle will have taken flight and baked cookies, too!) Of course, nothing happened. No magic realization, no immediate insight into the meaning of life. I really didn’t know what to think other than there was something to this puzzle. The next week, I found myself at the shelf where the puzzle was from last week trying to figure out what happened. In its place? A well-worn book called Awareness: Conversations with the Masters. Intrigued, I picked up the book and found it was written based on a retreat conducted by Anthony de Mello, a Jesuit priest. I set it back on the shelf thinking that I have read a lot of these types of books when it fell off the shelf and landed on my foot. “Just what is wrong with the shelf?” I wondered when I realized that this book was MY sign!! I snatched that book up and tucked it away into my things, now a precious gift.

I began reading the book that evening and enjoyed it so much that I purchased the audio to listen in the car. My place in the book I’m reading with my eyes is different than the audio book. I wondered when the two might align and if that would be an interesting point. And, yes, it was – and that is where I will leave this. This book just recognized how much of our life we create in our head versus what is truly real. De Mello believes that we just need to become “awake” or aware of what is real versus what is not real. (Believe me when we have a whole lotta junk that is not real. Just sayin’.)

The morale of my story is this: Let life unfold FOR you. The hard bits are also FOR you – to learn. The emotions are not easy but they tell a tale of how you see the world. The emotions point to something in YOU or how you are seeing or being in a situation. We cannot be made to feel an emotion by someone else. As a child, I did not understand that feelings are okay. It is a signpost of how you truly feel – like a gut reaction. If the feeling isn’t what you like or expect, examine it for what is there and place your own judgment aside. Open your mind and ask the harder question of yourself, without accusation. Take time to slow down and really be intentional. These feelings are guidance and can be changed. Think of it this way: When you love someone, you want to help them. Love your fellow human. Help them when you can. Love yourself too.

Peace.

Recovery Blvd, Milemarker 1: Psoriasis Rd.

Hello, and Happy Spring!

This journey to healing is what I plan to begin posting in an effort to see if others have had a similar journey. I’ve constructed a few ‘pillars’ in my journey to improving my health that I will reference as decision points or “milemarkers” where I made a turn on Recovery Blvd – six to be exact: Psoriasis Road, Gut Service Road & the Gut Health Highway, Depression/Anxiety Lane, Thyroid Street, Joints Turnpike, Highway to Obesity, and Longevity Drive. (The actual healing journey that I am taking is separately documented using a daily journal and will be published at some point.)

Now, when you hear the term “psoriasis”, what comes to mind for you? Used to be that, for me, psoriasis is what people got in their hair. Dandruff. Purchase the appropriate hair shampoo and you are cured. When my psoriasis appeared as a little spot the size of an ingrown hair on my left leg, my inclination was to slap some cream on my really dry skin, quit whining, and move on with life. As you can see, the little red dot on my leg has turned into quite the situation.

My first ‘milemarker’ in my journey is healing my psoriasis. This process is the most confusing and is driving my trip to Longevity Drive. The realization that that this part of my journey is to be a major cornerstone for my own longevity and bright future rests well with me for it is my main obtacle to overcome. I’d like to also help others with similar situations with is why I’m taking my time to really sort this out. I have found that my focus needs to be on improving my health and not just ‘losing weight’. This is the first photo I took of my legs (red sock). I sent the photo to my mom to have her see what I kept referring to as my dry legs. This was after over 10 years of trying to get rid of the lesions. It is a very slow moving disease with me.

Yes, my psoriasis began – or so I thought – with the appearance of a small and barely noticeable lesion that would not heal. Determined I had skin cancer, I made the first of what would be rounds of dermatology appointments. However, later in my journey, I began to realize the my psoriasis was the result of something much more, and began much earlier than the presentation of a small dot on my leg. This journey was fraught with misinformation or just ill-informed medical professionals who are to geared to a drug prescription pad solution. Here are a few ‘shocks’ I discovered along the way which really shaped my treatment plan…or lack thereof.

Left Leg circa 2017

Shock #1 – Medical Treatment of an Autoimmune Disorder. When my psoriasis lesion presented in 2003, I was told to just watch it. I’ve since come to realize that this advice was very bad. Because the lesion was too small to be treated and, with my history of cancer, no one would prescribe really strong drugs for such a small issue. (Good, because I didn’t want them anyway.) I also had a severe Vitamin D deficiency; where normal was 40, I had 10. This factor was overlooked by my dermatologist.

While the guidance of ‘do nothing’ was bad, this doctor could have prescribed strong drugs to kill my immue system when, in fact, my immune system was working as expected. My doctor just didn’t view psoriasis that way. I hope that the past 20 years have helped to educate him.

What I didn’t know is that I would hear this phrase for the next 20 years: Too small, not severe enough, etc. When did this little skin issue become “severe enough” to be treated? Surely, there was some cause, wasn’t there? More little spots began to appear looking like a little scrapes or knicks. Again, too small to be given oral medication (Again, Thank You!), and too much to be totally ignored. Yet, I did just that with one exception: I began to document my journey in pictures. This is the same leg, about a month later, right after a flare up. A few things to notice here. While the lesions look about the same, the redness surrounding them indicate a flaring of the wound. During a flare, everything becomes inflamed. Swollen legs and feet. My joints would ache. Towards the end of whatever would exacerbate the lesions, I would observe that the red areas now became part of the whole. Like the spread of ooze, my psoriasis crept into the healthy skin. This photo is at the end of a flare when my legs became normal again and I could see the psoriasis become larger as a result of the flare. Also, I noted the difference in leg size. This was when I realized that there may be a correlation of swelling to flare ups. My legs would swell for about two days and, then, become really thin. I could not correlate to any cause but knew there was something else, something more insidious that was part of my daily life.

I also noted that the lesions became larger within the inflammation itself. While swollen legs, feet and hands had afflicted me pretty much my entire life, I had always discounted this as just part of being me. Instead of deciding that I just skulk off into the corner, I began to become more proactive about whether or not everybody suffered as I did with swollen legs and feet. (I learned they didn’t.) Then, I began to question the treatment plan and considered this question: What if the treatment plan that has been proposed was inappropriate? (It was, for it did not search the cause but offered BandAid solutions.) During this time, I began to test certain things and looked for a dietary correlation. Changing my perspective a bit, I wondered if there was another ’cause’ for my brand of psoriasis and is there any role of bodily inflammation in a skin disorder? Inflammation is my name; disease is my game. More on that in another post. The journey was very long, windy, and extremely helpful…which lead me to shock #2.

Shock #2. Psoriasis has an internal causation. My own research showed me that psoriasis is not a skin disorder. While it presents on the skin, the ’cause’ is internal and psoriasis is labled as an ‘autoimmune’ disorder. And, do you think the medical doctor EVER told me this? No. I had to research this myself. Why would I not have been sent to an autoimmune specialist? Well, because psoriasis is labeled by the medical establishment as a skin condition because that is all people see.

We need to look past the presentation and, like obesity, challenge that these disorders are reflections of personal behavior because, frankly, they aren’t. That viewpoint, then, impacts one’s treatment options when your medical doctor believes that you are the cause of your own disease. Our medical establishment treats results because that is monetized and can be clearly justified. So, in a cut, we treat the result by using stitches and bandages. However, if the person endured their cut during an argument or violent fight, treating the injury does not solve the problem, does it? While this is an extreme example, it clearly highlights that disease may be a result of something else and not necessarily just my body going bad. Bodies don’t go bad, they are mistreated and have an unexpected result from the mistreatment.

Shock #3 – There is no treatment that will “fix” my psoriasis. Let’s fast forward now so that all of the boring past, trials and tribulations, can serve as my ‘road to recovery’. This is my psoriasis on June 19, 2021. I really believe the worsening of my symptoms was exacerbated by the Pandemic and being confined to the house. This, too, is the subject of a series of prior posts so I won’t go into this right here in any detail. Just know that I gained a siginficant amount of weight and leaned into anything and everything I ate from my childhood. This is also where I learned that I used food to soothe my anxiety and depression. The back of my leg is equally as inflamed with these sores. I’m showing only my left leg in comparison just to save and limit the yuckiness of my legs. My right leg is a bit better but shows the same progression. (The original lesion from 2003 was on my left leg so I call it ‘my older sores’.) Each spreading was denoted by small red spots or blotches that just became larger and larger. Today, this has spread to my elbows, hands, face, and nose. All of this spreading is after light treatment, oral therapies (yes, one doctor presribed one where I got extremely ill), topical therapies, and various different diet options. Nothing helped.

Shock #4 – The medical establishment does not provide prevention tips; they treat the disease. This may not always be the best course of action. This was not a new idea to me but I always just wondered more like a “What if” scenario. What if this skin disorder wasn’t caused by my body deciding it was breaking? Throughout my entire psoriasis experience, I would wonder about this and actually asked a few times about dietary correlations or other environmental causes. The answer of your body is just broken made more sense to my doctors when, in fact, I later discovered that my psoriasis IS the reflection of some underlying cause. This, I learned, by researching medical journals and SCIENCE. Yes, SCIENCE. Then, I took a step back and really looked at medical treatment and if I even received adequate treatment. Up until that point, the thought would just pass in and out, like a fleeting image. And, just recently, life gave me my answer.

This is one of those moments where you are just stunned into the truth of the matter. Sort of a ‘stunned to silence’ situation. I have a few of them in my life and this most recent experience was definitely one of them. It was this experience that solidified my hypothesis that is Shock #4. My GP/doctor is monitoring me for high blood pressure. In my most recent appointment in 2023, I was congratulated for losing 30 pounds. My weight, however, was incorrectly recorded for I had only lost 6 pounds. These 6 pounds, however, were and still are a monumental achievement for I lost them not through restriction but through conscious choice. Looking confused, my doctor read my recorded weight taken just 10 minutes prior – and I had to correct her because the last two numbers were transposed. A slight error? Well, in this same visit, I was asked if I wanted a dermatological referral – a full 20 years after my initial psoriasis diagnosis AND after I discussed in depth with this doctor during prior visits. Horrified and stunned, I just clammed up and that was that. This event was also when I realized that I needed to, once again, be my own counsel for the medical establishment was ill-equipped and unprepared to handle more complex situations of multiple symptoms that do not appear related. I needed a medical establishment that supported proactive healing and not always a pharmaceutical “solution”. And, after this recent visit, I don’t believe such exists…in this country anyway.

I began to consider my non-pharmaceutical options and once again began my research but with a new focus. You see, one of my GPs about 10 years ago muttered something about ‘vascular’ and told me to continue to see the dermatologist but we may want a vascular referral. (She has since left that practice.) I really had no idea what she meant. The only ‘vascular’ doctor I was aware of were surgeons and I certainly was not going to waste a surgeon’s time without a formal referral.

The idea, however, of an internal vascular cause for my psoriasis stayed with me. My research considered this and I began to search for a vascular possibility as the cause of my skin condition and I found a more formal term for my swelling: inflammation. By this point, I had noted and correlated the severe swelling in my legs and feet that I had always had to my psoriasis flares. In fact, I was so concerned that I was screened for psoriatic arthritis as a result of joint pain. (Negative for psoriatic arthritis, positive for osteoarthritis. Again, I have since learned that this is textbook progression of our aging process.) In bringing inflammation up to my doctor, however, the idea was quickly dismissed and the steroid route was once again discussed. This was when I realized that my psoriasis would continue despite my use of steroid and vitamin creams; I just knew that there had to be some other ‘source’ or the ‘original site’ of whatever was resulting in my psoriasis. I began to conduct my own research on vascular issues and skin disorders. Then, and this is very random, I began to wonder if the ‘particles’ or whatever my body was interpreting as a skin or autoimmune disorder was ‘pooling’ in my lower extremities due to poor circulation. Could that be a thing? I witnessed my mother-in-law and my own mother dealing with water coming through the skin on their legs. In both cases, my mother-in-law and mother would have been helped with exercise. Could psoriasis be like this but not with water but with ‘body junk’ or the results of some environmental cause that was slowly killing me? Then, I began to ponder that, in this case, what was the one thing I could do to help myself?

And that single question, my friends, was when I stumbled on the beauty and adventure of my lifetime.

My road to healing began with an exercise bike and a manicure.

More to come. Be gentle and go in peace.

Lessons from 2021 – November *or* Waiting for Inspiration Gets One Everywhere

As you read my lessons from November, it is just gone December 4th.  My lesson is really short: Be Inspired.  I have found that I feel better and have better results when my actions are taken after inspiration.  Many times, inspiration can even result from my inaction which, in itself, is actually an action. It is how we define inspiration that separates us.  Inspiration is that niggle of an idea or a phrase that we just overlook because we are too busy to listen and pay attention.

The idea came to me in a recent dream experience that I’d like to share.  In this dream, I realized that my own personal inspiration comes to me in a whisper of an idea, a dream, or an inclination to do or be something…different.  Fear keeps me small and is a damn waste of energy.  My inspiration is the kindness of a stranger, or the beauty of nature around me, or the laugh of my partner over something really trivial.  It used to be that nasty voice telling me I wasn’t ‘enough.’ Now, the voice is much more relaxed due to my acceptance of who I am and what I’m about.  I’ve come to realize that the voice is always there and is what one may call my own personal intuition.  It reflects my own opinions and that nastiness was my own extreme self-judgment which kept me moving forward, on a path.  As I said above, the idea came to me in a dream that was so profound and occurred the night that I asked my own self to help me see what my reason for being is.  I’ve been studying brain science and the subconscious: the roles it plays in our lives.  One of the exercises is to ask for a dream to help one navigate to their true purpose, which is exactly what I did this evening.  I asked: Am I just to be a wife, sister, and daughter in this life?  I would like to help others find this sense of peace that I’ve chased through my decades of breathing to find – and recently realized that it was always within myself. I used to look externally for what I already had and that had been buried so deep that I lost my own sense of self through always trying to fit in. Big, big, mental movement forward. ❤

My dream was very profound and occurred the night that I requested the dream.  I was traveling with a large suitcase, computer bag, and purse – my normal M.O.  It was a busy airport and felt like what I imagine Tokyo to feel like.  Busy, with people of all kinds going every direction.  (I originally noted that it was Newark Airport but the airport was new, shiny, really clean…or not Newark.  Sorry, Newark, this airport was so modern and clean, the floors were all shiny white tiles. Newark reminds me of a 70s den with wood paneling.)

I was struggling with my luggage, alternating how to carry it all for the wheels took up too much space; I struggled in walking through the airport from gate to gate.  I was traveling with three people, one of which was my sister.  (Odd.) We were being picked up by my colleague’s father who looked like a man I used to work for when I was 18.  He was joined by another man who I worked for at the same place.  (These two ran a company that sold electronic parts off the boat through a catalog service.  I handled the order desk and was always told that any delays were stuck on a boat through customs.)  Anyway, in my struggling with my luggage, I lost track of the bosses’ direction and we got separated from them…and ended up stopping for lunch.  Everything was tile floors, bright black and white lighting, and a lot of neon for an airport.  While we stopped to rest, I received an email from the boss asking where we were.  (Why didn’t he call me, I don’t know.)  We got moving again as I struggled to read and respond to his email asking where we were in the airport, along with always dropping or losing my luggage and stopping while people got mad at me, running around me as I was slowing the pace of the entire airport.  This was a particular memory as I struggled with the communication form as we can sometimes do when our devices don’t cooperate.  Finally, after a significant struggle, I was able to read the email – the time that went by seemed like hours.  I was told that they were at gate 920 or 902…the 20 and 02 in those numbers flipped flopped like an old burned out neon sign.  I noted that we were at gate 11 in the airport.  I was told to find “Akira” and that they would be meeting me there.  As I struggled with understanding how I would get to gate 920, I woke up.

When I ask for a dream from my subconscious to help me navigate, I will go to bed with a journal so that I can review and record the dream for later interpretation. The areas that stand out are giving a highlight and I do some internet research in the area just to figure out what it all means.

What stood out to me were three things, listed in an order of priority based on my immediate feelings upon waking up:

1.) The gate numbers: 11 and 920.  I was aghast at how far they’d come and how little traveling I had done in the same time.  The number 11 is always a sign to me that I’m supported by the Universe.  What does 920 mean?

2.) What the heck is Akira?  Is this a restaurant?  It was repeated to me and I figured I’d seen this in an airport at some point.  (Literal me.)

3.) Why couldn’t I just roll my luggage?  Why was the use of email also a struggle?  What was the reason for all of the struggling when I had the means to NOT struggle?

angel-2401263__340Here are the answers that I found and believe to be helpful for me.

1.) The meaning of the number 920.  Thank you to angelnumber.org for their work in this area.  From this site, I was able to ascertain the following:

As an ‘angel number’, “…[t]he number 920 combines the energy and attributes of the numbers 9, 2, and 0. The number 0 intensifies the energy of other numbers, in this case, the numbers 9 and 2.  The number 9 symbolizes spirituality and spiritual evolvement, as well as the path towards spiritual awakening and enlightenment. This number also symbolizes humanitarianism, service to the humankind, philanthropy, altruism, peace, faith, karma, the Universal Spiritual Laws, lightworking and lightworkers. It also symbolizes endings and closures, as well as serving as an example to others. The number 2 signifies balance, duality, harmony, mediation, diplomacy, teamwork, compassion, compromise, cooperation, selflessness, peace, encouragement, trust, faith, stability, service to others, responsibilities, empathy, relationships, partnerships, love, and kindness. This number also symbolizes following your soul’s purpose and mission in this life. The number 0 is a symbol of infinity and eternity, wholeness and oneness, cycles, phases, flow, closures and new beginnings, potential, new opportunities, chances, God and the energy of the Universe, spirituality, and spiritual development.

The number 920 in general signifies major closures and endings, as well as new beginnings in your life. It also symbolizes the change of cycles and phases in one’s life.

It symbolizes relationships, selflessness, balance, stability, faith, trust, spirituality, spiritual evolving, humanitarianism, serving humanity, altruism, and philanthropy.

This number also symbolizes teamwork, partnerships, compromise, lightworking, cooperation, duality, diplomacy, mediation, service to others, infinity, wholeness, oneness, phases and cycles, potential, and new opportunities.

The Secret Meaning and Symbolism

The angel number 920 is a message from the Universe, which confirms that you are on the right path to fulfill your Divine soul’s purpose and mission in this life.”

WOW! I was reading this at 5:30AM and was just gobsmacked that I had actually dreamed this information!  I took a sip of the coffee and continued with my research.

2.) What is Akhira?  When I ‘Googled’ the term, it was spelled this way but I pronounced it with more of an ‘a’ sound that that with the ‘i’ in the back of the word.  The first term was this:

“Akhirah is the term used in Islam to describe the belief in everlasting life after death. Muslims regard life on Earth as a test from Allah, to prepare them for eternal life. … Muslims believe they can enter Paradise by living according to the teachings of the Qur’an.”

Now, I’m not of the Islamic faith so this was totally out of left field for me.  However, given what I had learned on the number of 920, I accepted that my dream referenced this in its meanings.  My final destination.  What a beautiful reference, too, to a faith that is not my own.  This also spoke to me that all faith is good.  Having faith is a beautiful thing that we humans enjoy.

3.) This meaning to me was obvious.  The luggage I was struggling with was my own personal baggage that was weighing me down.  My struggle with handling everything became the entire focus of my journey and got me a bit lost.  To answer being lost, I stopped and had lunch.  See this site for a full explanation.  I have had the dream of struggling with luggage before, and being left behind.  This seemed to be a running theme in my dreams for the past few years. What I had not had was the clarity of purpose, or the other notes which is why this item is third.

Now, you may wonder how inspiration figures here.  Well, I learned of the idea of the subconscious mind in reading I’m doing.  This book is fascinating and a recommendation from Jim Fortin.  (Listen, folks, if you are struggling with changes in your life, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND JIM FORTIN’S WORK AND PODCAST.  It has changed my life.) underwater-2725420__480 I came upon Jim’s work after listening to a totally unrelated comic discuss the profound impact it made for her while relaxing at home one evening.  Her discussion was so much how I was currently thinking that the message could have been FOR me.  I felt inspired to find out more. In researching Jim’s work, he discusses brain science, shamanism, and all things transpersonal psychology.  He recommended two books to read, one of which was The Power of Your Subconscious Mind by Dr. Joseph Murphy.  A dated but fascinating discussion of the formation of the brain and impact on humans.  It is sitting at my bed table for night time studying.

It occurred to me in the writing of this post that, by just following my own inspiration, I have made such a profound ‘leap’ in my own development through listening and acting on my own internal voice.  I stopped arguing with myself and am now a creature of inspired action.  This has resulted in a decrease of anxiety and a level of self- acceptance I never thought possible.  A work in progress, sure, with all of the ebbs and flows that life provides in our grand journeys.  As I was saying just yesterday, when life begins its ebbs, we need to flow to meet the ebb…or not.  We can wait for the flow to return which is part of the larger Universal design, right? I’ve accepted that I’m different and that is by design.  I’m okay with being unique and not conforming to expectations – even my own.  Not more, just different.

Here’s hoping that as we hunker down into winter up here in the cold northern hemisphere, you find your inspiration in the solitude of the evening or the smile of your dog.  (Yes, they smile!)  A suggestion: Listen to your intuition and let the inspiration find you when the time is right for both of you!  The work we have to do is to clear up our mental clutter to be able to hear. Peace and love for the end of 2021.

 

Happy New Year

It is already January 3, 2021, and time is just flying by.  Right.  Having the New Year fall on a Friday made this seem like an extra long weekend.  I love that feeling, that I don’t have to go to my desk to work but can just do anything I desire.  That feeling of having the world at your feet is a fearful one, don’t you think?  Like, we have all of the possibilities at our finger tips so why don’t we just extend the reach a bit more?  Are we afraid that our hands will be cut off, or….are we afraid that we’ll reach that last bit that tortured us only to find that the work was not worth the effort?

I think the latter thought is more common.  Sadly, we fail to see the journey for the wonderful ups and downs of experience of the end was not our expectation.  I see this on Chopped which is a cooking competition on the Food Network channel.  As a person who has a love/hate relationship with cooking, I really enjoy watching the show because of the obscure ingredients and comments on flavors.  During the Pandemic, I’ve been doing a really bang up job of cooking all of our meals.  Not a self-boast, just reiterating a comment.  I’ve been doing my cooking in a toaster oven because our oven broke before the Pandemic and we could not decide what to buy without remodeling our entire kitchen.  (Believe you me, the kitchen does need a facelift.) So, I’ve been using the stove top for that type of cooking…and a toaster oven for baking.  We are on the second one, having about used up the prior toaster oven.  I’m using a Breville now – hands down, the best toaster oven we could find.  The cooking in a toaster oven for ten months now wasn’t anything I even thought of…until I really looked back and saw the accomplishment.  The end – or the cooked product – was not the joy but that I could make some things so delicious through my Breville was amazing to me.  The journey, then, WAS the experience, not the perfectly cooked Christmas roast.  (OMG! It was amazing with a new herbal rub, too!)  With Chopped, I enjoy watching those who did not move on to the next round.  (Notice how I didn’t say lost here?  That is key.) The reactions are so varied that they say a lot about the person.  One man discussed how this just wasn’t his time to win but he enjoyed cooking for the top chefs and how meeting new people and, especially, these captains of his industry, was so exciting.  His enjoyment of the time spent in the Chopped Kitchen was not minimalized by the result of coming in second runner up.  Contrast this to a more recent episode where the chef eliminated in the first round discussed how lousy he was.  Hey, Buddy, YOU WERE ON CHOPPED!  You met some really great – possible – connections to build a future!  Did you fail to see that your losing was just a random result?  So, you determine how well you did by some peoples’ opinions and that is all she wrote?

We are all winning and losing each day.  It is the grace of how we handle the victory and defeat which then determines the next adventure.  Even in winning the competition, there must be humility and grace.  There is a respect we must have for those brave enough to enter the competion, show up, and do their best.  This is true in life, too.  If this subject interests you, YouTube has a whole world of discussion in this area of self-help.  One of my favorites is Eckhart Tolle, and you’ll find an interesting discussion from him HERE.  Many times, we may just see the railing and believe that is all there is.  Don’t be afraid to ask for a box to stand on so that you can see the view.  Enjoy and make it a good day, without expectations of how things should be.

Where Do Thoughts Come From?

Have you, gentle reader, ever wondered where thoughts come from?  I never have until a recent series of singular albeit related events.  These events appeared randomly over a series of years and in very different situations.  As they happened, there was no known or expected correlation between the events.  In my attempts to work through current pandemic and quarantine effects – and my response to them – I realized that my responses to these events led to my next challenge or opportunity/event.  My dawning realization that all of my life events are somewhat tied to my thinking made me wonder just where thoughts originate and if their source made a difference in how I responded to my thinking.  I pondered how a lack of intention and misperception could impact my thinking and the next event.   

I’ve been very interested in the origination of thinking or thoughts these past few months and, truthfully, I’ve been very interested in people’s “whys” as an effort to find my own sense of purpose.  My thinking (pun intended) these days wonders whether thoughts originate from the brain or if thoughts are interpreted by the brain (totally external) or a combination of these two activities?  This leads me to the thought that if there is a combination, is one more predominant than the other?  And, how does our perception of the internal and external “us” impact our interpretation of a thought?  Does one’s preference for introversion or extroversion impact thinking?  I plan to explore some of these thoughts (I’m on a roll, gentle reader, with my puns) and hope that you may also benefit for I think I’m called to share this information on my experience so you may stop and consider your own experience and what it may have taught you.  Life is about teaching us all and our shared experiences will benefit from being told for it is the connectedness that allows humanity to thrive and, IMHO, survive.  

Be well, and Happy July 4th.

The Restoration, All Parts

Last month, I wrote a blog post called “The Restoration, Part I” where I mused over my disordered thinking and perception, and my realization that this may have gone on unchecked in my brain for quite the long time. It was through the extreme discipline required by the pandemic that forced me to these realizations. The change in the title of this blog post from a single “part” to “all” parts reflects my intense introspection and its infinite application in my life. Over the past four months, I’ve distilled this to a single thought that applies virtually everywhere I look:

Be a student, not a judger.

While the quarantine began for me on March 5, 2020, the extreme restriction actually did not have a mental impact until the end of March when I had to first wear my face covering…and became hysterical. Downright howling, tears, frustration, self-condemning shit all because of being required to wear a face covering. I told my husband I didn’t want to live in a world like this and I was dead serious about it, pleading with him to run me over with the car and end it. Living this way was not what I wanted for myself and the heaviness and enormity of the situation was more than I could handle. While I understood the reasoning behind covering my nose and mouth, the emotions still raged. Why? And, instead of condemning or belittling myself, I began to study my reaction through eyes of self-love. This was and continues to be a huge step for me.

Be a student, not a judger.

Since then, I’ve been in deep contemplation about aspects of my own self, their causes and effects, and what meaning I’ve attached to them. The cry for help and relief was so desparate for me that I knew I needed to act or else I would go insane. Instead of harshly judging myself, however, I have learned to question these emotions. Through this effort, I realized that I am not alone and that this extreme situation brings out really visceral reactions. Each outting with my mask has become a bit easier. My sister has taken to sewing face coverings and kindly mailed me a few. This sense of fun in harsh times has helped to lighten my mental mood. Thank you, Michelle, for your kindness extends farther than you realize. (Isn’t that the way of kindness?)

Be a student, not a judger.

This simple statement, above, was what I had in my automatic writing exercise this morning. (This is one of my habits I’ve developed in the pandemic and has been surprising insightful.) I’ve also been more a peace with myself and I’ve become okay with being quiet. In learning, one must be quiet and develop the ability to listen without judgment so I feel like I’m working on the first part okay but the second part is really a challenge. For an introvert, I usually have a lot going on behind my eyes. Unfortunately, it can be what I’m cooking for dinner that evening or replaying my tenth grade band practice from 1979 over and over again. Usually totally random crap.

I believe listening is a lost art that needs to have a renaissance. In working on my listening and examining my habit to be distracted, I began an intensive course offered by Eckhart Tolle called “Conscious Manifestation.” (This link is for your information. I receive no financial benefit from a referral…full disclosure.) I’ve been studying communication and the idea of self in our being and doing. I’ve also been studying the structure of beliefs and meanings to improve my own ability to listen empathically. I began to study Tolle years ago and was confused. Not any more. (Thank you, Pandemic.)

Be a student, not a judger.

Look forward to more content on judgment and how we do this without even realizing it. How many times have you judged someone based on their skin color or uniform? Or how many times have your been judged by others? I’m damn sick and tired of it and have decided to be a “no judgment” type of person. I’m okay with you doing you as long as I can do me because I’m learning that I like me and this is enough, as I am enough. Be well and enjoy nature and summer. Spend time in love and be patient with yourself and each other. Blessings, and happy summer.

The Restoration, Part 1

I’ve been writing these past few weeks about the idea of adding and subtracting of myself, or the shifting of mental and life “blocks” to review, reset, and repurpose. I see this all as a type of restoration of the self. Like my favorite HGTV programming, you take the good, toss the bad, and leave a little “dinge” – or the good old stuff. (Hi Erin and Ben!!)

This resetting may be the best way of defining The Wobble. My idea of a wobble came from a yoga practice in which I was struggling in a posture. In my mind, I was thinking about how I was failing. However, my teacher exclaimed how good the wobble was because the struggle was creating new muscles and that these muscles were performing in new ways…or “The Wobble”. I’m exploring how the Wobble may not only be a physical adaptation of the body but may also be the metaphysical “Wobble” of the mind…the illuminated mind. What does this mean? Let me explain.

In some of my work to achieve better physical health, I realized that my own mindset could sometimes “trip” me up in my efforts for mostly anything. There is also a mental component to physical acheivement, isn’t there? This mental component is critical to successful achievement and through the effort of physical acheivement, I realized just how much negativity I spewed to myself. Through that dirty and, well, false lens, I failed to appreciate my world for its beauty and splendor and saw only my personal failures. How much of my view was obscured by my own self-hatred?

Did I think myself too small to jump the hurdles in my life with success? This was such an eye-opener for me that since that realization, I’ve begun a journey back to see just how much I “poo-pooed” my achievements. Like, the time I won the “Employee of the Month” at my job — in 1986. (Yes, my good friends, this has gone a LOOOOng time.) My view was that it was my turn. But, was it? How much did I diminish the achievement because of my own lack of self-worth? How much of my own limitations were….ummm….self-imposed. (Yikes!) This brings me to my current situation and my new lesson in self-blame.

Last week, the office I run had to make a difficult decision on who to promote. The decision is unimportant, really, because it was my reaction to the decision that was extremely startling…and a true eye-opener in my Wobble. There was a choice made (and, it wasn’t my choice to make, either) and the person who was not choosen was disappointed. So disappointed in fact that there was an emotional response from the individual and I felt myself begin to assume their pain at the loss…and, then, I realized what I was doing. STOP! My inner dialog was something like: “Yes, let me heap some of your disappointment on ME. I will take the blame for you so I don’t feel so bad at having to make a decision that I knew would disappoint you. This reinforces my bad feelings for myself.” The rational part of me said: “Wait…what are you doing? Why are YOU feeling bad because someone else did not qualify for a promotion? Isn’t it their job to ensure they qualify and that their supervisor agrees?”

I began to sift through my feelings a bit more, and with the help of my very learned partner, I began to formulate a question in my mind that required further study: Why would I take responsibility for someone else not getting a promotion? (As I write this, I’m realizing that this situation is much more psychologically involved so, please, take my experience for just that: experience. Seek your own professional assistance as I am in no way a medical professional. <3)

For me, this comes down to needing to be liked, and assuming a posture of self-blame for not being liked. While I was reduced to weeping, I finally realized that this situation was not for me to be upset about…and began to feel better. I certainly have empathy for my colleague and I really want to promote everybody I meet. (Really!) I even went to my boss to ask about the possibility of promoting everybody for potential opportunities even though they were not the best fit for the job just so that I wouldn’t have to disappoint THEM. (I am highlighting this as the lesson of my needing to be liked was what I needed to learn.) In fact, the heart of the decision was the assessment made by one of my direct-reporting supervisors of someone else’s performance and how it may “fit” into the office. In this case, then, isn’t the performance up to the applicant for the job? And, why am I assuming this disappointment and taking responsibility for their lack of showing up?

It was this latter question that got my mind going and turning this around for a better way of looking at the situation. (Byron Katie’s “The Work”. All you need to know.) The shifting of the responsibility to where it belongs is now me, wobbling, in a very good way. Normally, I’d just assume the blame and begin my negative inner dialog of blame, criticism, and just such harsh dialog that I’d NEVER, NEVER say to anyone else. Yet, this WAS different. I recognized that I am being paid to make tough decisions for the good of my company and that they rely on my knowledge of the brand, my leadership, and fair-treatment. All of those factors were used in the decision-making. It was a fair decision given all things. So, why do I now feel so lousy?? More to follow once I figure THAT out. Anyone who says life is easy isn’t living. Peace and be well.

 

The Addition

Last month I wrote about my realization that in my struggles to improve, I believed I needed to be less than…something.  The idea of subtraction to fit in was what I learned and believed to be how “things get done.”  I no longer believe this to be true and, actually, this idea is a very dangerous road of misunderstandings, self-betrayal, and my own death. 

[Note to Gentle Readers: What follows is a tale of my journey to a wonderful realization that I wish to share with you. It is my tale on how I realized that, by struggling with being physically smaller, I became mentally smaller. In writing this blog post, I sought to identify this feeling and found this very valuable information from HumanParts.com: In part, Brianna Wiest writes that “Your “small self” is a combination of habits, behaviors, and beliefs you adopted from those around you. You interpreted their needs and preferences and took them as your own. You assumed certain traits for defense, or safety, or because you just never took a minute to stop and think: But is this really who I am?” I had never thought of life and growing up quite like this. I hope you read and enjoy this article. Allow me to continue….<3]

About 2004-ish, I was given a diagnosis of psoraisis for a small “spot” on my leg.  It looked like a patch of skin no bigger than a dime that would not heal.   With a history of cancer in my family, I trotted off to my local dermatologist.  Unconcerned as the diagnosis did not include the skin cancer I could have sworn I had (delusions, anyone?), I just continued my regular lifestyle.  I was told you just need to live with it or use X or Y cream/salve/lotion.  Yeah? No. Move forward ten years.

In about 2014 where my psoraisis and health were left unchecked, that small patch became larger and slowly expanded, creeping up my calf on one leg and encircling it like a boa constrictor.  Like the movie The Blob, the mass just continued to grow and slowly spread over my lower extremities.  Doctors, creams, salves, etc., did nothing to stop the spread.  I gave up and just let it run amok as a perk of getting older and wore long pants.  I no longer got pedicures, embarassed at the condition of my legs.  In my purely physical evaluation of my condition, I concentrated on the external “result” of my disorder.  What I failed to understand is that psoraisis is not a skin disorder per say but an autoimmune disorder that comes OUT through the skin.  In other words, these eruptions were the tip of my health iceburg and, while my doctors gave me creams for my legs, they really did not delve into my role and how I might help myself.  This went on for about two YEARS and my psoraisis spread to my other leg, front and back of my lower legs, elbows, arms, and hands.  Still living with it as I gave up on steroid wraps, salves, bathing, sunlight treatments….<sigh> I noticed the first lesion on my face and ears. That was the final straw because I could no longer cover up the eruptions with clothing or gloves.

Cue 2016 and the cancer diagnoses.  This was dropped right in the middle of my health Wobble but I was unaware of the impact and how this served as a pivot for me.

Rather than continue on the familiar path I had worn thin through the years , the cancer served to divert me into a new health initiative.  I was so scared at how this foreign thing was in my body and I lived my life unaware that it lurked.  You see, my thyroid biopsies came back clear so to have found cancer during my parathyroid surgery was almost like winning the lottery for me.  This discovery while I was “under the blade” resulted in an immediate thyroidectomy decision by my husband.  (I cannot imagine how my husband must have felt being called in to a consultation room by my surgeon and told that I had cancer and he needed to decide right then and there what to do. He made the right choice for me.)  After recovery and radioactive iodine treatment, I was left with my normal modus operandi: How can I control my health through diet because, obviously, my ballooning weight needed to be subtracted because that was the problem and caused my cancer and unhappiness about myself.

What I failed to consider is that my over weight is a result.  No, not the cause.  A result.  I liked this way of thinking because I could then shift my own sense of blame (and resulting shame.)  I live with a never-ending source of shame, manufactured by yours truly.  I think it stems from being afraid to disappoint people.  (What? Where did that come from?  This is a new thought and just came into my mind as I type. I will put a pin in this because this may give later insight.)

I began to try to unravel the cause of my cancer and health, and relied on my tried and true “subtraction” method because it had been just so successful thus far.  (Hindsight? No, it hadn’t.) I was determined to manage my thyroid through diet along with my psoraisis.  I began a regimen called the AIP protocol which I implemented partially for about six months.  My health worsened, the psoraisis flared into huge red patches with silvery coatings.  The doctors gave me more creams because any drugs may be an issue considering my cancer and that the psoraisis was localized to my lower legs.  It was then that I began ramping up my medical visits to larger clinics, naturopaths — anyone who had an idea.  I was looking to remove whatever it was in my life that was causing me such physical and  emotional distress.  By the fall of 2018, I was depressed, living on very few food items that I enjoyed, and just feeling like I was a full and out failure.  Yes.  I am a failure because I could not manage my health and well-being, the body I was given for this lifetime.

Then, I had my vision.  [Gentle Readers: If you are wondering about this, please read my prior post called The Subtraction where I discuss a very odd dream.] In thinking about it, I still become emotional although the dream is a few years past.  This is how powerful an important “vision” can be…it is what is driving me to create this blog.  I felt in my vision so relaxed and confident.  I KNOW that this was me if I were in another life or path.  Me, if I had lived my life without such a degree of shame and blame…both on myself and those around me.  I decided that I liked feeling confident and relaxed and wanted that to be my full-time feeling.  I began toying with managing my diet not be subtracting anything but by adding healthy habits and keeping all of the other habits, too.  My thinking was to let those habits that I disliked fall away as no longer necessary once I had a better “addition.”  So, instead of removing sugar, grains, dairy, fats, etc., from my diet in an immediate and drastic “shift”, I began to add a piece of fruit to my diet.  That’s it.  I stopped mentally shaming myself when I preferred a bowl of ice cream.  As long as I ate my fruit, I met my goal.  I then decided to add a slice of bread to my diet.  Like my mother, I love bread…the old German kind with full grains.  Some of my most favorite memories is my mother and her bread.  I still visit and bring her a loaf or two of Heidleberg Bakery’s bread.  (Note: Must have toast for breakfast.)

I began seeing diet as a road map and not a punishment and, in January of 2019, joined Weight Watchers (now Wellness Wins), and, by June of 2019, I’d lost about 50 pounds.  The plan made sense and became second-nature to me.  Then, I hit the Wobble….and skid right down through it into a pit of my own emotional garbage.  I’m still here…struggling to maintain my weight loss in the middle of quarantining.  But, my struggle?  It’s a good thing as I am using the time to create a sense of ease for myself.  I’ve gained weight…and I’m okay with that, too.  I just refuse to subtract as a means of improvement.

If you’ve gotten this far in your reading, thank you. In my struggles to achieve, I’ve recognized that a good plan, daily check ins, and being kind to myself are key.  These will be my new additions and I’m looking forward to being able to do more “adding” to my day that will include more physical activities that I would enjoy.  For today, we have a cold, frosty morning.  I plan to finish my coffee, enjoy a nice slice of toast and send good wishes to my mom and sister so that they, too, find a sense of joy and peace in this world.  Hey, why not add it to your day??

The Subtraction

About three years ago, I began to seriously contemplate my death although I didn’t know it then.  I was fretting over wanting to get a haircut and not knowing where to go, having made a decision to go ‘au natural’ with my silver hair color after dying for 30 years.  One might say that I’ve lived in a rainbow of hair colors.  From the darkest blacks to bleached blonde, I’ve run the gamut of natural and unnatural hair colors.  In 1983, we had the purple period; circa 1999 was my best blonde look.  Looking for the perfect salon to tell me the perfect hair color/cut/style that would make be feel better about myself was a daunting task that had gone awry many years prior.   At the same time, I was diagnosed with a tumor that was found on accident during a routine dental exam.  How random, I thought when, in fact, both were a part of a larger plan that I see with some hindsight.

Faced with the uncertainty of life in a small parathyroid tumor in my neck and seeing my own personal situation changing to a health emergency, I ceased to worry or be concerned about what haircut will make me feel beautiful.  My need for an improved self-worth no longer absorbed my full focus and, putting my neck-length hair into a simple clip, I got on the road to wellness. 

During my surgery to remove the tumor, cancer was randomly found and required additional treatment and the removal of my thyroid.  The idea of my death also began to ruminate in my mind so the idea that I could have been living with cancer and was unaware really stuck a fork in my thinking.  The cancer had been a surprise yet I still had my hair on my mind and began to contemplate life with a wig.  I guess when we don’t feel well physically, the idea of my hair became a welcome distraction because it was within my control.  It’s like the super-serious life and death questions needed to be countered with the superficial parts of my life like a hair style.  The idea seemed absurd in comparison to my logical mind yet my emotions embraced the comparison, turning it over in my head on a constant stream of thinking.  Until that point, my mortality hadn’t been a factor in my decision-making about daily life.  As an event at some future point, my demise was a necessary part of life but did not encompass any more thought than that.

Then I had a “dream” which I quote because the “dream” was more of a vision.  Unlike my dreams that would take me on journeys or activities, this vision was more of an instant “flash” that I saw in my mind’s eye.  I’m calling this a vision because it was different, like a foretelling so the idea of a “dream” seems to light or fluffy.

In my vision, I am floating above a woman below me who I believe is also me.  It is a quick flash of sight but full of richness in how I felt. I see the back of her/me.  It is daylight and I feel the light shining through the many windows as if it were mid-morning or early afternoon. We are in an open kitchen/breakfast area/living space as I see an expanse of light floor tiles throughout the space.  To my right is a breakfast bar and kitchen area. I feel like I’m moving through the space to my office or for another purpose.  I have a long, single, gray braid down my back; that is what I focus on.  I’m wearing a flowing top and skirt that “swishes” and “tinkles” as I move with an ethereal quality almost akin to Tinkerbell. My clothing tinkles with small wind chimes that make a musical noise as I walk; I’m carrying a large hand-thrown mug of herbal tea. I’m graceful in my movement, light and airy.  It was then that I realized in my split-second vision that this woman was me.

I woke up knowing that I had envisioned myself at some future state.  The most startling besides the gray braid was the confidence I embodied. This was unfamiliar to me in this form as my confidence up this point had been based on my achievements and not just being alive. Unlike my current hair, my braid was thick, ropy, and elegantly hung with a simple tie at the bottom ending at my lower back. I was happy and felt fulfilled but as a core state that was emanating from me, not an external causation. 

Instead of removing my hair to achieve a personal sense of style and confidence, I began to grow my hair, and to exercise improved patience and acceptance with myself.  As my hair began to grow, I lovingly tended to it while also working on my health.  The reconciliation of both created an understanding in me that, during my own wobbles, I believed that I should subtract a part of myself to achieve my desired state of being. For me to be me, I needed to be less than.  How had I allowed myself to believe all of those who belittled me?  When did I begin to believe that I needed to be smaller, both in size and mind? 

I began to grow my hair to prove all of those school yard bullies wrong.  Your labeling of me had no meaning in my life and no longer defines me. To all of those young boys who teased me about myself, shame on you. How sad your lives must have been to take your misery out on me, a poor, defenseless ten-year old girl who stood out.

I began to grow my hair to stand out.  After hiding myself in clothing that was too big and too masculine, believing that I was not pretty enough for feminine touches or tighter fits. Why show off my better parts when everything was lousy and ugly?

I began to grow my hair to exercise and hone my patience with myself and others.  Waiting for my hair to grow and nurture it through conscientious trimming and styling resulted in taking time to develop my sense of style. I was okay with waiting to see what was next on my new horizon.

I began to grow my hair for those who still continue to believe that “less than” is an appropriate behavior and mindset.  Stopping the idea that I have to settle for less than I (or you) deserve.  When we show up to take what we deserve, we become who we truly are meant to be.

I began to grow my hair for all of those young women who suffer through no fault of their own yet they are made to feel less than by those who truly are less than. Please listen to your inner voice. It is powerful, durable, and a true guide.

I grow my hair for all of those times I was told that I had such a beautiful face and what a shame it was that my body was overweight.  This was the compliment I would get.  It never occurred to me to be angry because if these were meant to be hurtful, why would they tell me?

I was and am beautiful. I may believe it one day.

I continue to grow my hair for me.  Each day, when I style my hair, I’m reminded about how to show up and be myself and not subtract which, unfortunately, is my “go to” coping mechanism for all things difficult.  I’m reminded not to lower myself to someone else’s expectations of what is appropriate behavior for me. 

I style my hair simply to my desires.  Early in my life, I began to wish I was invisible.  I’d hide in corners or dark spaces, or hide in plain sight behind my own lack of esteem. Today, my silver mane stands out and that is okay.

Note: The author’s hair, like her confidence, continues to grow.

The Wobble

I woke up one day. In waking up, I realized that my struggle of the day continued from the day before – and the day before that. Instead of beginning the day with the normal round of negative defensiveness, I began with wanting to understand the reason for my struggle. While lying in the warmth of bed (luxury), my thoughts turned to gratitude and the joy of being warm, comfortable, and surround by my loved ones. In that, I realized any struggle paled in comparison.

Through the lack of negativity and the overwhelming positivity, I recognized that the struggle was mine and based on perceptions of what I – or someone else – should be doing/being/behaving. The judgment that poured off me was startling and I felt the weight being removed from my shoulders in a physical feeling like one I had only known once before in my lifetime. (Another story.) Suffice it to say, I paid attention. A voice said to me you are just in the middle of learning.

Recognizing that I have something to learn in the experience is the wobble. It is our reluctance to own up to the wobble that keeps us in the wobble. Once you acknowledge your own wobble, you can begin to understand it and how you are benefitting from it. Believe me, you are benefitting from the wobble and, while it may not feel that way, the more positive the psychology, the better your outcome. It is my goal with this blog to help you in the wobble with information. This blog is my own personal experience as a professional wobbler resistor. It is not intended for medical or psychological treatment or guidance. It is my own view point. Take it or leave it.