Fulfillment

 I was reflecting on the path my life has taken, all the people that have passed through it, those who have walked alongside for a season, some longer than others, and how I felt at different stages of my life.

From early on, I seemed obsessed with doing things for people that they would appreciate. I never heard the words, "Thank you" coming from my mother. So every week, I would station myself at the exit door of the grocery store and open the (non-automatic) door for people with their arms full of grocery bags or a cart full. And they would say "Thank you!" and I could tell they meant it. It filled me up with a sense of being able to make a difference in someone's life, even if only for a few moments.

All my life, I chased that feeling. As I entered the workforce, and found my first career in the public service, I got to feel that fulfillment - not fully, but enough - so that I would come home feeling satisfied that I had helped at least one person that day. That "making a difference" rewarding feeling kept me in my career for 21 years.

And now that I am in my 2nd career, that sense of fulfillment and having made a difference is so common that I get to experience it on a regular basis, and I know that I have found my niche in counselling. I usually come home with a smile on my face from having seen someone's "light bulb" come on, or having been able to sit with someone in their pain, knowing that they needed someone to do that. It's a wonderful, FULL, feeling.

Free photo Swan by Noname_13 at Pixabay

I am so blessed to have that opportunity to do what I love and make enough money at it to meet my needs and the needs of my family. I'm so grateful for that. 

Not everyone gets to feel that feeling - those are the heroes of the world. They work at jobs they hate just to meet the needs of their families and they sacrifice so much for that. I did as well, at one time. I don't know why I got to be so blessed - well, maybe I do, but it has nothing to do with my own worthiness or theirs - we are all worthy. 

Helping people to see their own worth and reach for their dreams is one of the greatest things about what I do. It is the most fulfilling part of my ... dare I call it work when it feels so much like play? Yes, there are difficult times, but for the most part, it is fulfilling. It meets that age-old need to know that my contribution helps someone else. Amazing. Simply amazing.

Contentment

 "It's my life, it's now or never;
I ain't gonna live forever!
I just wanna live while I'm alive:
It's. My. Life."        - Jon bon Jovi, 2000

My daughter used to listen to this song when she was a teen (she's 31 now.) I hated it. I considered it a selfish, godless, rebellious statement. 

Now, I'm beginning to see the real meaning behind bon Jovi's words. I've spent far too long being dead while I'm alive, going through the motions, regretting yesterday and either fearing or not being able to wait until tomorrow. Never was my mind on where I was, what I was doing, or who I was. 

Contented kitty!
Image by mysgreen1 at pixabay

In my journey of the last five years or so, there is one word that keeps recurring for me. That word is CONTENTMENT. It encompasses letting go of yesterday and of tomorrow. It means living in the present, enjoying the now, and finding YES in as much and in as many ways as possible. It also means accepting myself as I am, and not wishing I were someone else.

It didn't come easily. I'm still learning, as a matter of fact. However, disciplining myself to come back to the present has been one of the most healthful, wholesome exercises I have had the good fortune to stumble upon and practice. Achieving a calm, unruffled state on a regular basis has reduced my stress, improved my sleep, and made me more willing to accept other people and events as they are. This, I have learned, brings contentment: a lasting state of peace. 

In that state, I am free to express my emotions and act for the betterment of others, while not taking anything personally. My life experiences and the people with whom I have had the privilege of interacting all have contributed to that mindset. I am a better person, a better wife and mother, a better friend, and a better citizen because of it. 

I am a spiritual being who just so happens to inhabit a physical body ... for now. The notion of a life beyond this one has inspired me to try to enrich the now, not to bemoan my difficulties and pine away for 'pie in the sky bye and bye.' This, too, enhances my present contentment. I feel safe and secure. I trust. I love. I believe. I act from those core values. 

And along the way, if my journey touches yours and makes it better, I'm perfectly fine with that. In fact, that's where I find another essential of contentment: joy. 

2020 - accepting the good, the bad, and the ugly

 As I sit down to write this post today, my dog is at my side, cuddled up to me, in utter doggie contentment. I think to myself how I can relate to that feeling of being right where I most want to be, doing exactly what I most want to do. It is from that place of fullness that I write about 2020: a year that, for many, has been a horrific disaster from start to finish. 

There is no doubt that historically, the world has changed significantly in the last 12 months. Politics, pandemics, persecution, protests, posturing, and petulance have marked our Western society throughout the year. Many worldwide have felt hopeless, harassed, even hunted. And as we come to the close of it, there are some sparks of hope that the disease which has intensified our societal problems may have an end in sight. However, it does not mean that there are not still problems. 

There has been much to be sad about this year. People have died, either through illness or ignorance. But in the midst of it all, there have also been signs of life, light, laughter, and love.

For me, 2020 has been a time of great sorrow and of great joy. The great sorrow came in February when my brother passed away suddenly after having succumbed to an infection that left him too weak to get to a phone. Feeling empty and alone, I turned my attention to adopting a puppy, who quickly filled our home and my life with laughter, love, and life as he explored and learned each new thing. We got him in the early stages of the pandemic, before we got the hang of this whole social distancing thing. Fortunately, nobody was ill and we were even able to tend to his vaccinations and his neutering as time went on. 

In September, I began a new chapter for me as I started the long-awaited practicum placement that my university requires for me to get my Masters in Counselling Psychology. What I didn't foresee was how wonderfully fulfilling it was (and is) to be there and be present for each of my charges, to listen to them and to watch them grow in themselves and their relationships with themselves, others, and sometimes with God. There have been challenges of course, but I am doing something that I love doing. 

So for me, all told, 2020 hasn't been so bad. Sure, it sucks to not be able to see my friends and family as often, but I have my little family here, which includes a couple of other people in our bubble (the "kith" of kith and kin), and of course the animals. I get to do a lot of things that make me happy, and my stress levels are vastly reduced from a year ago. I guess it has to do with that all-important little word called acceptance. 

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud"
courtesy of Sura Nualpradid at
freedigitalphotos.net

When I accept the things that come my way and don't wish them gone or hurried up, when I receive them and enjoy whatever moments of goodness they bring to me, it is then that I can live in peace. These are lessons I'm learning in this new phase of my life - lessons like living in the now, doing what I can and letting go of what I can't, and making time to laugh and enjoy living without fretting about the future or regretting the past. Too long I have lived with those thieves of joy. It's time to step up, to move ahead, and to enrich my every day by seeing and believing the best, even if things seem bad or ugly. The truth is, there is always some good to be found if you look for it. If you look for bad things, you'll find them. So I choose to look for good things, and let the bad ones go. 

Onward to 2021 - a new year, a new decade. I'm grateful. If our paths cross and we walk together, be that virtually or in person, I hope we part ways encouraged and strengthened. 

5-4-3-2-1

Sometimes, the rush of passing time, deadlines, expectations, and worries about the future are too much for me to handle, and I find myself getting overwhelmed, distracted, and stressed out. When I realize this is happening, (and I realize it far less often than I would like), I return to some little techniques that I learned last fall and which have helped me to get centered, grounded, and  calm. 

One of these techniques is the topic of today's post.  5-4-3-2-1 is something I can do at any time, any place, even when driving (especially in daylight hours when the roads are not slippery.) Let me tell you how it works.

It involves the five senses: sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. What it does is it allows a person to notice their surroundings in concrete ways, and keeps them in the present. 

Let's pretend I'm driving on a nice sunny day, but my thoughts are whirling around things that might or might not happen, the health of a loved one, etc. I realize I'm doing this and that it's stressing me out, so I begin.

5. I pick FIVE things (one at a time and dwelling on each one) that I can see. I choose to enjoy the sight of it, either the color or the shape or whatever. So ... I see a blue house in the field over there. It has white shutters and looks like an old farm-house. It has a barn in the background and I smile as I think about how those who live there might enjoy a day like this, outside with the animals. That's one. Then I pick a second, dwelling on each one in my mind as I look at it. If I run out of things to see (which is unlikely while driving), I think about my favorite sights: a rainbow, a horse running in a field, and so forth. I enjoy each one; I take my time doing it.

4. Then, I pick FOUR things that I can hear. They could be the sound of the tires on the road, the music I'm listening to, and so forth. I take time to let each one come into my consciousness and make me smile. 

3. I pick THREE things that I can feel.  The cool of the fan on a hot day. The vibration of the steering wheel in my hand, and so forth.

2. Then I move to smell. I pick TWO things I can smell, or that I LIKE to smell. I let each one delight me.

1. Finally, I pick ONE thing that I can taste or that I love to taste... same idea.

Free Image by David Mark at Pixabay

By that time, I can tell that my shoulders are looser, my back less tense, and my breathing slower and deeper. The things I was stressing about seem a bit less important in the here and now than they were ten minutes ago.  

The above exercise is called a "grounding technique" and it is one tool that works to varying degrees for people who have anxiety, panic attacks, and/or flashbacks to traumatic events. It also cultivates gratitude, and reminds me that no matter what else is going on in my life, there is always something to appreciate, that the ability to experience the world is a tremendous gift, and that I'm okay in this present moment. 

There are more exercises - so many breathing exercises, for example, that focus on the here and now of your own breath. You don't have to be a yoga master, or practice Buddhism, to do them, just look them up on your favorite search engine. I find that 4-7-8 breathing is a good way to calm myself when I am over-stressed or nervous about a meeting or interview. I inhale slowly into my belly for the count of four, hold for the count of seven, and exhale slowly for the count of eight - and repeat again and again, until I am calmer and more at peace.  

Happy breathing everyone! I hope you have a really wonderful day.

The Love-lens

Most people, when they think of addicts, think of things like alcohol, drugs, even gambling or sex. But really, someone can be addicted to anything: fitness workouts, a super-clean house, adrenaline (extreme sports for example), TV shows, ... and the list goes on and on. I was thinking about this earlier today and wondered if anyone had considered an addiction that is quite common in humans: the obsession with tragedy, closely related to the need to gossip about or find out about the sordid little details of someone's life (specifically about their tragedies). 

Some folks, I find, like nothing better than to get their own dander up by seeking out horrific things and then passing them along. Somehow this seems to give them the moral high ground to be the first one to alert their friends to these things. A tragic car accident, a shooting, an earthquake, a fire - these are all juicy fodder for discussion, especially if they have photos to go with it. 

I've never seen the attraction in it. To me, there is enough bad in the world without sussing out every last little detail and glorifying it by speculating on what was involved (was there alcohol or drugs involved in the car crash, for example) and further traumatizing the victims or their families. 

Photo by Marek from Pexels

What I and many others prefer to do is to focus instead on the good. It's a shift of perspective, putting on a different lens, so to speak. It's changing from the gloom-and-doom focus to one of hope and love. Shifting to a love-lens allows people to see the humanity of someone else, allows them to look at what is right rather than what is wrong, and shifts the response to bad things from "Isn't that awful? / They must be horrible people" to "What can I do to help?" (Yes, that's a link there in bold - it goes to a video that you can watch in another tab or window.)

The love-lens allows me to focus on showing compassion instead of judging, offering acceptance instead of prejudice, and being kind instead of impatient or cross with people. 

The simple thought process of the love-lens means that when I get delayed in traffic because of someone hesitating at the traffic light, instead of giving in to the temptation to be annoyed or angry, I think of all the distractions in their life, or that maybe they need that delay because it might save them from having an accident a few miles away. A love-lens looks at the old man wandering on the street, staggering, as someone who may be experiencing a reaction to medication, rather than automatically labelling him a drunk and moving away from him. It sees the child misbehaving in a store as a kid who has been overstimulated and is tired of being around too many people, rather than a bratty kid whose parent cannot control him.  It sees the parent as being in an embarrassing situation and needing a helping hand rather than a disappointed glare.

Do you see what I mean? Cultivating that love-lens takes time - but the more you use it, the easier it is to use the next time, and the next. I'm not saying I use it all the time (although I would like to!) but whenever I do, it has helped me treat people with respect, be more patient with people's mistakes, and generally put myself in others' shoes before I make snap judgments.

If you haven't already done so, click the link I put in bold, above, and watch the video. It says things in a much better way than I could. 

The present

In my last post on this blog, written in May of this year, I was talking about waiting for the next phase of my degree, my practicum. I spoke of it as a destination and of the plaintive cry of someone on a journey asking if we were there yet. 

But as it turned out, the practicum was not a destination, but only the beginning of another journey - one that took a sudden turn I wasn't (but should have been) expecting: basically, my practicum supervisor fired me. The sense of failure was very real, and I began to question everything about the last ten years of my life: my recovery from codependency, my personal growth, my relationships with my extended family members, my desire to become a therapist, my self-image as a kind and compassionate person, and my suitability for a helping profession. It was quite wrenching - traumatic - overwhelming.

In addition, the shock of that experience tipped me over the edge emotionally and after the initial days and days of crying, it's like the water that overflowed the dam just froze in place. Nothing penetrated. Nothing affected me. I could not feel sad, or happy, or angry, or worried. Sleep was fitful and gave me no real rest; motivation went out the window. I started to isolate myself from things, lost interest in the things I loved to do (music, word games, etc.) and just buried myself in escapist behaviors: binge-watching shows I had seen so many times I could recite the dialogue, mostly.

So I sought professional help. I asked my doctor about it and he put me on an antidepressant and referred me to a psychologist. I have my first appointment with her next month. And although I didn't want to do it, I forced myself to do certain things for myself: read something inspirational every day, brush my teeth every day, eat regular meals, and find something to do that got me out of the house once in a while. 

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom from Pexels

And - of late - I have been pondering the idea of staying in the moment, and not thinking about the past or the future. Like yesterday morning. I had eaten my breakfast and was finishing my coffee when I saw a box of Turtles (TM) on the table. I decided that I would like to eat one. Just one. Slowly. And as I bit into it, there was a part of me that said, "Hey. You'll be late for work. This is ridiculous. You're wasting time here. You have to get your makeup on and pack up your stuff to go." And from somewhere inside of me came another voice, one that said, "No. Just enjoy this moment. This is self-care. Taste the taste, really focus on it." And I did. When I was done, that part of me said, "Now, see? THAT is being in the moment. Nothing more simple than that." And I realized that I had rushed through so much of my life trying to get to the destination or the next big thing, and missed out so much on the "in-between" stuff of everyday life: the journey of thousands of moments.

It is a new learning experience for me, this 'savoring the moment' notion. It is this moment right now that I have: the now. Who was it that said, "Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift - that is why it is called the present"? 

In that same vein, I received another unexpected present this morning, before we even opened our gifts. Our little family was having breakfast together, talking about a movie we had watched together recently, "The Greatest Showman" (which I highly recommend, by the way!), and we were saying how all the little threads of P.T. Barnum's life, which seemed so random and unrelated to each other, the glad and the sad and the mad, weaved themselves together in his life to show him his purpose and help him fulfill his dream. And that's when it hit me. All of those things in my life - glad, sad, and mad - also had purpose and were being woven together in me in the present. 

That was the gift I had been given, and even though it was not yet complete, I caught a glimpse - a freeze-frame, if you will - of becoming who I am meant to be.  In the moment, in the now, in the present, weaving the past threads together, the dark and the bright and the gray and the colored threads that seem so purposeless by themselves seemed, for one brief moment, to coalesce. 

And in that moment, I felt something. For the first time in weeks, I felt something! An emotion, a state of being, a ... whatever you want to call it. The closest I can come to describing it is by calling it hope. But it was not the wishing-for kind of hope. It was more an assurance that I am where I am supposed to be, even if it is hard. That right now is a gift: the Present. That it is okay to be where I am. And my throat tightened, and my nose stung, and tears welled up and spilled over onto my face. 

And I lifted my face upward and whispered, "Thank You." 

Not yet ...

"Are we therrre yet?" This is the plaintive, whiny cry that Western parents have come to dread; it is the stuff of comedy sketches, sitcoms, and throw-away lines in kids' movies. I poke fun at it to cope with how annoying it is, but truth be told, often I succumb to the same lack of patience, that same intolerance of waiting. 

Waiting has never been my strong suit; I have mentioned it before. It seems that my whole life has been one long wait, interrupted with periods of frantic activity when things fall into place, followed by still more waiting for things to fall into place again. The waiting seems eternal.  And yet, looking back after things have fallen into place, I ask myself where the time went. I heard an expression today that reminded me of this - it had to do with parenthood: The nights are so long, but the years are so short.  I think the concept applies to all of life. The waiting is long, but life is so short.  

Lately, my waiting has taken the form of going through a Masters degree program in counseling. Sometimes, it feels like I have been in this waiting mode forever. Wait for the textbook to get here. Wait for my marks for Assignment Three. Wait for registration to open for the next term. Wait and wait and wait. And wait. Yet, sometime around the middle of last term, it struck me that I had less time ahead of me in my program of study than I had behind me. Realizing that caught me by surprise. So did the dominoes falling into place when I finally contacted the agency where I will be doing my practicum in a few short months (starting September 2018). The waiting felt like forever, but the interviews only took a couple of weeks to set up, and in one short, noon visit with them, they offered me an internship there. Just like that. 

And then the days got long again. Such a long stretch between that and the actual practicum that not even taking another course in between is enough to make it hurry up and get here. So there is a definite part of me that is whining, "Are we therrre yet?" 

Beautiful fall (September) leaves - pic
is from Pixabay.com

And of course the answer comes. Not yet.

Not yet. It's coming, but we're not quite there ... not yet. 

The days seem so long.

Only another week before I start getting my paperwork together (copy of my undergrad degree, certificates I've passed, criminal record check, etc.). Only another month before I can start looking for an apartment (I'm doing my practicum out of province). A little over two months and I'll be moving into that apartment. And in a year, I will be finished my practicum and starting to get my qualifying hours to be a licensed counselling therapist. WOW.

I keep telling myself these little things with the hopes that they will appease that impatient inner child. They do quiet the whining. But so far, the effects are temporary. And soon there will be another plaintive, "Are we therrre yet?"  And my adult self will say, "Not yet." And before long, I will add the word "Soon."

Soon there will be a full schedule. Soon there won't be enough hours in the day (even more than it is right now, which is hard to imagine). Soon, I will be dividing my time between practicum, school assignments, working to pay the bills, and somehow finding time to do all the things I rely on others for now: shopping, cleaning, cooking (okay well I do like to cook), washing dishes, tidying, laundry, and driving myself places instead of being driven. 

But not yet. Not yet. Not... yet. Hmmm. Wait a sec.  What about NOW?

Now is the time in which I am living. Now is when I can breathe, focus on the next task (however small or possibly unpleasant), and still make time for looking after my needs for sleep, nutrition, and other kinds of self-care. Today I helped spread mulch with my family to ease their load a bit, a rather rare thing for me, but I needed a break from studying and they were outside. So out I went. It was only 20 minutes, but it was a "now" thing. Not a wishing-it-could-be-September thing. Not a can't-wait-til-I-can-get-my-apartment thing. Not a oh-my-goodness-where-am-I-going-to-live thing. It was a NOW thing. 

NOW is when I can water my plants, do my assignments, help people at work, look after myself, teach my daughter more about how to prepare and cook things (expanding her knowledge about the basics of food preparation, for example) and enjoy every second I get to spend with her and with my husband. I can pet our cats - NOW. I can fold the laundry - NOW. I can do so many little things NOW. 

And if I focus on the now, there won't be enough time for me to ask if I'm there yet. Before I know it, "soon" will BE "now" - and in hardly any time at all, the years will have been so short. 

And I will wonder where they went.