The Requisite Birthday Post

A Milestone Birthday

Inasmuch as I’ve been rattling on endlessly about my 70th birthday, the 30 year cycle it’s brought to light, and the fact that 70 is a milestone for me, I figured I at least owed my loyal readers a post for the day. I don’t know which twisty turny paths my mind might take, but it’s clear to me that write it, I must.

My plans to spend my birthday alone with my cats and a movie or two rather than in the company of strangers, or at best, friendly acquaintances, must have been on my mind last night. I dreamt I was in different large groups where I was blending in with the crowd so much that when everyone sat down for a meal, I couldn’t even find an open seat, so I wandered off to a patio area to eat alone. At one point, an aunt was about to announce to everyone it was my birthday. I looked at her and said “please don’t”.

There was even a boy who shared my birthday. We’d acknowledged it the day before, but on the day, he acted like he didn’t even know me, much less remember we shared our date of birth. I’m guessing the dream was bringing back memories of when I was alone and forgotten in a crowd, not by choice, but by circumstance. Thankfully, I’ve finally gotten past the need to be recognized in a large group of people I know only because we all show up at the same place, on the same night every week.

The Gift of A Quiet Evening Alone

Now that I’ve changed things up, the number of people I actually know well enough to want to hang out with between dances is fairly small, which goes well with my introverted self anyway. But it’s not up to them to make my significant birthday special. I can do that better on my own by doing the things I want to do. Yet, it does bring up old memories of 30 years ago when I was alone, but didn’t really want to be.

Between my convoluted feelings over my mom’s untimely death, and a divorce that was dragging on, and unnecessarily contentious, I wasn’t really in a celebratory mood, even if there had been people around me who wanted to help me celebrate. At the time, I think I needed the healing powers of the ugly crying I did after my dad called from where he was celebrating my uncle’s birthday. I can look back now and be grateful I had that time to myself to take stock, to grieve, and to deal with the ugly emotions spewing forth in privacy.

Though I’m in a much better place this time around, and spending part of the day alone is a gift rather than a painful reminder, I know some of those old emotions are still hanging out, waiting for me to finish facing them so I can let them go for good. In a lot of ways, I see this birthday as an opportunity to take stock and see where I still need to work on healing the old stuff to make space for the new.

Focusing on the Healing

Looking back over the decades, I’ve had some truly wonderful birthdays, and some miserable ones, but for the most part, the majority have been forgettable. The few wonderful ones will always remain in my heart, with gratitude for the people who helped make them special. I’m letting go of the miserable ones one by one. It’s time to let go of the one that carried so much sadness and grief.

In between my manicure and workout, my daily walk, and my dinner with the cats, I’ll be pulling out the wounds, the scars, the sorrow, and the self-flagellation. I’ll face each emotion head on, and finally give myself permission to let them go. Their purpose in my head and heart has run its course. It’s time to allow those old wounds to, if not fully heal, at least scar over.

Inasmuch as writing is my therapy, I suspect I’ll be doing a lot of it tomorrow in my alone time. Some may be shared, while most, I’m sure will remain in the private annals of my notebooks and computer files. This process of mine works. It’s not necessarily speedy, nor is it ever a complete Spring cleaning. It’s part of a process which by necessity, needs to be slow and careful most of the time. If the sadness and trauma I carried was trivial, it would be easier to simply sweep it all out, light a match to the pile of refuse, and watch it all burn away in cleansing fire.

Inner Work is Never Complete

Unfortunately, a lot of my wounds are traumas that run deep. They weren’t acquired frivolously, so they need to be released with the same gravity and attention to detail which formed them in the first place. In accordance with my family’s values, they were also stuffed down when I should have allowed myself to feel them, so part of my process involves excavation of an archeological kind. Over the years, as I’ve unpeeled layer upon layer of sometimes solid rock, I’ve gathered the tools I have today which allow me to step back into my own darkness and shine a spotlight on the next few layers requiring healing.

The time I’ll spend alone the rest of this week isn’t because no one cares. It’s because I need to do some more work on myself.

Grateful for the Choice of Solitude

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for the tools I’ve acquired while working through past traumas.
2. I’m grateful for the friends who understand my need for solitude.
3. I’m grateful for the time and desire to spend the day of my birthday alone with my own thoughts and feelings.
4. I’m grateful for another year of health, happiness, joy, and friendship. My friends may be few, but at least I’m not trying to be anyone but myself any more.
5. I’m grateful for 2 nights of dancing even though I’m skipping Thursday this week.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful. In her spare time, she’s also an accountant with extensive experience in Government Contracting.

Frustration: My Uninvited Guest

Discomfort Abounds

I really hate when I’m feeling down, or lost, or lonely, or left out. I know it’s part of the normal cycle of things, but slogging through muck of my own making is not my idea of a good time. Yet that’s where I seem to have landed the last few days. I suppose growing tired of it is part of the process of yanking me back out by my bootstraps…a not-so-subtle reminder I’m still the captain of my own ship for the most part. Still, through all the cycles I travel, this one is my least favorite, even as it’s probably where I do the most healing.

My cats sense my distress, becoming clingier than usual, even to the point of waking me in the middle of the night to give and receive comfort. My body senses it, producing random aches and pains at both rational and irrational times. My sleep pattern changes, leaving me retiring early and sleeping in later than usual. I know it’s gotten bad when not only Artemis, but Ishtar and Pyewacket take turns sleeping on top of me while Lazarus joins in to demand attention every time I crack an eyelid. When I sit on the sofa, everyone crowds as closely as possible, and, unlike normal, stays put when I get up to go to the bathroom.

Causing my cats discomfort adds another layer to my already energy sucking misery. Maybe in its own way, that’s part of the process too. I can avoid exposing other people to my crankiness simply by keeping to myself. The cats don’t have that luxury, nor do they seem inclined to avoid me when I’m feeling sad in the first place. Realizing I’m causing my fur kids distress is a wake-up call in and of itself telling me to get my act together and stop upsetting everyone in the household with my seemingly pointless moping.

Neverending Challenges

Granted, the last year or so has had more than its share of challenging moments. People drift in and out of my life these days, but few remain for more than a cycle or two. But all have their purpose. Some were meant to help knock me out of my comfort zone before drifting off so I could see whether I’m able to maintain the shifts on my own. Others slip in for mere moments to remind me to be more discerning about who I trust.

I’m beginning to think I’m in a period when I’m meant to remain on the sidelines; jumping in to participate for a few minutes before returning to my seat in the corner to watch until there was an opening for me to join in again. I’m spending a lot of time in my personal bubble, the way I did before I began trying to fit in, and deluded myself into believing I had arrived, so to speak. Learning I was only included to a point, and as long as I gave more back then I could ever hope to receive threw me for more of a loop than I realized…until now.

Breaking Down to Re-build…What?

The last bits of that ship are pieces of driftwood, scattered far and wide now. Some have become part of the sea floor, while others have gone aground far from the shipwreck site, carried, by tide and time to places where sun, sea, and air will complete their demise. That ship hasn’t so much sailed, as disintegrated. Yet, is it so different from The Tarot in Tarot, which depicts a building crumbling to the ground in various scenarios depending on the deck? Is this simply a time when old ideas and structures are no longer useful, and must be destroyed before rebuilding on a stronger, more resilient base?

I suspect this all represents the old wounds and traumas I’m supposed to be healing through this cycle, but honestly, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be healing right now. I continue to drift as if in a heavy fog. Nothing is solid or clear. I wander in a dream-like state, never getting close enough to make out the details, and frankly, it’s frustrating as hell! Give me something I can sink my teeth into already! Let me recognize something in this soup I can actually masticate and digest. I’ve learned through painful experience the only way out of my current state is to have something to focus on; a piece of my past history to process, work through, and release. With all the 11:11s I’ve been seeing for the past few days, I know I’m getting closer, but close is only good in horseshoes and hand grenades. I want it now!

Normally, I can write my way around to a solution, but without a rudimentary understanding of the problem I’m supposed to be solving, I’m at a loss, and that irritates me more than anything! The control freak in me is having seven kinds of fits right now because she can’t get ahold of anything long enough to exert control. Frustration has become my uninvited guest right now, and it’s already stayed overlong. I’m ready to evict it along with all the baggage it brought in. If only I knew where to start.

Grateful Even When I’m Down

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for my increasingly clingy cats.
2. I’m grateful for my writing, even when it fails to bring me solutions.
3. I’m grateful for consistency, be it daily writing, regular chore days, or constant healing opportunities.
4. I’m grateful for knowing the current cycle is only temporary.
5. I’m grateful for continuing to get up and go about my daily business, no matter how pessimistic I’m feeling.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful. In her spare time, she’s also an accountant with extensive experience in Government Contracting.

The Infinite Hues of Friendship

The Color Palette of Friendship

For most of my life, I’ve labored under the misconception that friendship is basically black or white; on or off; all in, or all out. Lately, I’ve discovered nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, friendship is a wondrous, complete spectrum of colors, divided, not just by type and level, but by the unique qualities and experiences of the people joining the party. As no two people are alike, neither are any two friendships, and frankly, there’s a mosaic-like beauty in that diversity.

So many factors impact the color and intensity of a friendship:

• How much each party is able to give
• How vulnerable each party is able to be
• Trust levels on either side
• How much vulnerability each party is able to accept
• Each party’s ability to love themself
• Each party’s history: how they were taught to love and to be friends

There are so many more but these are areas which have seriously impacted my own ability to have and be a friend. You’ll notice I’ve focused on “ability” rather than “willingness”. That was intentional. I’ve learned (perhaps the hard way in some cases), when it comes to anything involving emotions, it boils down to what we’re capable of far more than our willingness. Those abilities are learned, both by nurture, and experience.

Unlearning Old Lessons

Unfortunately, many from my generation were taught to play everything close to the vest by well-meaning parents who didn’t know any better; to never allow anyone to see us sweat or cry. What a horrible legacy our parents, and their parents before them gave us. It’s led to so many mental health-related issues which keep therapists’ schedules full, and I suspect, challenging at times. Many of us grew up, and even raised kids with deep-seated emotional traumas, not all of which were couched in our own experiences. We didn’t have decent examples for building relationships, much less, how much to share, and with whom.

I, myself have erred by confining my efforts to both ends of the spectrum, never quite figuring out where the balance point lies. I’ve overshared and had it blow up in my face. I’ve undershared, and found myself standing out in the cold. The warmth of close friendships often eludes me, leaving me like the image on the 5 of Pentacles in my Spiral Tarot deck; standing outside a window where happy, well-dressed people celebrate, shivering in the snow. I’ve yet to master the art of reading a room so I know how much of myself is suitable to the abilities of the people with whom I’m interacting.

Although much of the issue lies in what I was taught by my own, devastatingly broken parents, I think I’ve done more damage to myself with my own inability to accurately assess those around me before making another ill-advised decision about what, and how much is appropriate to share. It’s small wonder my expectations are seldom met.

Then again, setting expectations on how people will respond to me makes about as much sense as trying to twist myself into a pretzel to meet my perception of their expectations. Either way, it all turns out wrong, and I’m outside looking in once again.

Understanding the Abilities of Friendship

Ultimately, I’m learning to stop pushing people beyond their abilities. Many find it uncomfortable to allow me past a certain level of friendship, and I am starting to recognize when that’s the case, rather than feeling like there’s no friendship at all. The distance which I’ve perceived as a wall is simply their own limited ability to deal with me beyond a certain level. Like my own protections and boundaries, theirs have been established to protect themselves from anyone or anything which causes them discomfort.

Though it’s true, on occasion, I’ve erected a boundary specific to an individual, like most people, mine are essentially generic and keyed to a certain type of energy in general rather than to anyone specifically. While I’m still learning when I smack into one of those boundaries, it’s rarely, if ever, personal, learning not to take the impersonal personally is a work-in-progress.

For now, I’m working on lowering (or perhaps eliminating entirely) my expectations of friendship, and allowing for a beautifully diverse cornucopia. Maybe there are only a couple of people with whom I can be nearly completely me, I’m recognizing most can only offer me a small glimpse of their soft, inner selves, and more often, are ill-equipped to see more than a small glimpse of my own convoluted, twisty-turny, kaleidoscopic self. And you know what? That’s perfectly OK. I’m slowly learning to accept whatever they’re able to give with gratitude.

Grateful for Patience and Understanding

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for learning there’s more than one flavor of friendship.
2. I’m grateful for learning to appreciate friendship in every one of its hues.
3. I’m grateful for learning there are more relationships worth saving; worth nurturing than I’d realized.
4. I’m grateful for those who’ve been so patient with me while I step back, reassess, and find my way again.
5. I’m grateful for recognizing I may be too much for some, not enough for others, and just right for a precious few.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.

Criticism and Communication

Communicate Criticism Gently

Some folks are good at taking criticism, while others aren’t. Some people give criticism such that the recipient is uplifted and motivated. Others do nothing more than break the spirit. If you do or don’t see yourself in this, be aware someone out there disagrees, while others sing your praises…and everything in between.

I’ve also learned there are times criticism comes across as harsher when there’s an underlying issue or gripe one of the parties isn’t aware of. When it does come to light, the opposing party may have an “aha moment”, but by then, the damage to the relationship may have already been set in stone. One thing which doesn’t help is asking others in a community how they perceive it as it may, at the very least, cause embarrassment when the truth comes to light…unless of course, that’s your plan.

Deep seated feelings of hurt often distort our judgement, causing us to say or do things our more rational, kinder nature would have ordinarily dismissed. As with so many things, it comes down to communication. When we’re feeling hurt, dismissed, or invalidated, and stuff it down with the rest of the fulminating mess of emotions we all carry around, there’s a need for relief which, all to often translates into a need to lash out at the one we believe made us feel that way. No matter how hard we try to follow our better nature, things will slip through the cracks at times. That’s when the criticism gets more cutting, both from an administrative, and receptive position.

Cutting Each Other Some Slack

People who know me well know I’m often clumsy in my communication, and even more so when I’m not left to process hurt and other uncomfortable feelings in my own time and way. Although I ask that any hurtful actions I might perform be pointed out to me as soon as possible, it rarely happens that way. Other people have their own reasons for holding back, usually until things come to a head, and end up blowing whatever relationship existed to hell and back, often permanently. In such cases, both of us are to blame…and neither of us, for misinterpreting the other’s level of trauma.

Then again, sometimes you want to tank a relationship rather than risk confrontation. I know I did a lot of unkind things to my ex when the relationship had long since run it’s course. Both of us knew it, but neither wanted to be the one to actually end it. Eventually, I had to, for the sake of my sanity, and that of my kids, but not before I did and said a lot of things I’m not proud of.

As I’ve learned over the years, it’s an effective way to end a relationship that’s run its course, be it personal, social, or professional, but it’s also a messy one. Bridges are burnt, and a lot more toxic feelings are left to be dealt with…someday. Neither side will ever see the other in the same unbiased, accepting light they once did ever again. That, to me, is very sad, especially when I look back and see how many of mine went down in those hypercritical flames.

Learning from Past Mistakes?

The latest of those leaves me realizing I owe it to myself to do better, as it’s always me who’s left alone to start over. Maybe I got sucked into the situation in my perpetual naivete. Maybe I didn’t see the setup coming, or failed to perceive the other person’s hurt over something I said or did until it was too late, and they’d shot me down with it enough times to make me leave. My lack of relationship-building skills makes me an easy target for people who deal with hurt that way.

I’m lucky there are at least a couple of people in my life who won’t hesitate to tell me when I’ve acted unkindly, and are, perhaps, thick-skinned enough to either not let my insensitivity hurt them, or understand I truly do not mean to offend; who understand there are times I respond instinctively, like a cornered animal rather than a rational human, and who know when it’s best to leave me alone. But those few have traveled with me for longer than most (and deserve more than just the debts of gratitude I owe them), and know there are times I need to retreat and process before I can talk about what’s bothering me, and then, only with someone I completely trust. Anyone in that category is one of a precious, much-appreciated few.

I’ve certainly learned a lot about giving and receiving criticism over the last year alone. My only regret is how much of it came with a lot of pain and loss.

Grateful Unkind Words Wound but Rarely Kill

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve learned, and continue to learn; even the painful ones.
2. I’m grateful for a safe place where I can uncover old wounds, sit with them for a time, even hold each other and have a good cry before finally letting them go.
3. I’m grateful even for the losses. While I wish they didn’t have to happen, sometimes people, places, and things simply run their course in our lives.
4. I’m grateful for options. When one door closes, there are several waiting to be chosen.
5. I’m grateful for quiet, productive days when both the complicated and the mundane get checked off my list.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.

Through the Eyes of a Child

Set Your Inner Child Free

Inside you there’s a child who’s most likely been shoved to the back of your mind so many times, they’ve given up trying to get your attention. They huddle in a corner, neglected and ignored. Yet it would take the smallest spark; the teeniest bit of attention to put the light back into their eyes, and open yours to the beauty and possibilities you shut out when you stopped allowing your inner child to come out and play.

You’ve blinded yourself with disillusionment, hurt, trauma, and frustration, forgetting in the process, a door closes for a reason, and you have to let go of outdated ideas and behaviors in order to heal and grow. In short, you have to allow childlike wonder to come back into your life instead of setting expectations low to avoid disappointment.

Fortunately, reminders come into your life in the form of children and grandchildren. Their laughter at simple things like a cat rolling on the floor to scratch her back, or doing a happy dance while gazing at you with pure love setting their entire face aglow can re-open your eyes to possibilities you’ve allowed trauma and disappointment to obscure.

Open to the Wonders of Life

Photo -Marisha Fox via Flikr

In the eyes of a child the world is a constant source of wonder and entertainment; filled with possibilities and potential. They don’t fear falling because they know they can get up and try again. It’s adults who instill that fear, either by magnifying the potential dangers, or by failing to provide an environment that’s safe for exploring, and supportive of the unsuccessful attempts that are lessons with which they’ll eventually figuring it all out.

Excluding cases of outright neglect and abuse, which is another conversation entirely, you instill those fears with the best of intentions. You want to protect your child from learning things the hard way; a stove is hot, running without watching where you’re going can lead to collisions and falls. You want to protect them from others because the sad fact is, there are many broken people in the world who act out their pain on others. All too often, they’ll prey on children because their innocence makes them easier to ensnare.

The tricky part is instilling lessons of caution without smashing the natural wonder and curiosity. My youngest daughter was an exuberantly friendly toddler. She’d walk up to anyone with her arms raised, a silent request to be picked up. It broke my heart to have to teach her not all strangers were trustworthy and kind, though it allowed her to grow up safe from predators. Unfortunately, it also hardened her, and stifled the delightful, friendly child who saw the good in everyone, and who never met a stranger.

Stronger Than You Think

Strength-Spiral Tarot

By the same token, allowing your child within to come out to play in a world your adult self knows is fraught with dangers both hidden and overt is often resisted whether or not there’s obvious cause. You’ve been hurt, and even broken enough times to have learned to temper your trust with a heavy dose of caution, even to the point of trusting a minute number of humans, if any.

Your head tells you to hide your inner child away from any danger; to consider everyone and everything a threat until proven otherwise. In so doing, you stifle your own sense of adventure, despite the fact you’ve learned from the many times you’ve stumbled, fallen, or been tripped and battered not only how to protect yourself, but how to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and learn from the experience.

You’re no longer a helpless, innocent child. You have an army behind you built of experiences, challenges, and lessons. Your inner child’s apparent innocence is an illusion. You’ve given them the tools they need to continue exploring, and experiencing the world without putting themselves into obviously dangerous situations.

Failing in Order to Learn

Photo – Philip Leara via Flikr

In truth, stumbling and falling, though likely to be less traumatic continues to be part of the learning process. Learning what causes pain teaches you to be more successful in your explorations, though for many, pain becomes fear of exploring at all. Fear of pain evolves into lack of trust all too easily.

Watching my infant grandchildren exploring the world, I know there will be bumped heads, pinched fingers, and more dramatic wounds which will hurt their parents’ hearts and mine. I also know those wounds will make them stronger, and, if not turned into fear, more adventurous. My own daughters added many gray hairs to my head, and gave me numerous anxious hours spent waiting in ER’s with the results of their latest adventure…and lesson.

I’m grateful my instincts refrained from turning the multiple visits to the ER for stitches into reasons to instill fear in my daughters, else they wouldn’t have put on their roller blades again, to go charging hell-bent-for-leather down the street, nor continued to run, play, climb, or ride their bikes like normal, active, inquisitive children. Thankfully, my own lack of propensity for hysterics, and tendency to be strong and solid in a crisis taught my daughters to act first, and to quietly fall apart once the crisis, and need for strength and a clear head had passed.

Welcoming the Inner Child’s Viewpoint

The question remains, why did I, like so many of you out there, not teach my inner child the same lesson? Why did I teach her to face the unknown with fear rather than curiosity? Why did I stuff her in my mental closet for so many years before I learned letting her natural tendency loose would expand my world beyond my wildest imagination?

And yet, I did finally get out of my own way, so to speak, and allow her to take the lead. I stopped needing to force my world to make some kind of sense, and I gave up trying to force myself into a box constructed of expectations that weren’t mine, but weren’t really anyone else’s either. They were what I thought I needed to do to fit in.

What Others Think of You is None of Your Business

I realize now, the harder I tried to be something I wasn’t; to listen to the adult who’d lost the ability to love and accept her uniqueness, the further I got from anyone who could or would accept me wholly and completely. It wasn’t until I essentially declared; I no longer give a damn whether people like me or not. I’m going to be myself, warts and all. I’m tired of trying to fit in; of forcing myself into a set of rules I neither agree with, nor understand.

In short, my life really began, and I finally fit in exactly where I belonged when I allowed my inner 5-year-old to say emphatically; I don’t need to be anything or anyone I’m not. Love me, or hate me. I don’t care, as long as I love myself with all my quirks, scars, and imperfections.

So if you’re struggling to measure up to some arbitrary set of rules you never seem to get the hang of, maybe it’s time to stop trying, and to let your own inner 5-year-old come out to play. Go back to the playground where there were no rules per se, and you joined in by walking up and saying; Hi. What’s your name?

Grateful for My Inner Child’s Wisdom

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for learning to give my inner child the wheel.
2. I’m grateful for children who remind me adulting is optional most of the time.
3. I’m grateful for a change in perspective that gave me a more fulfilling life.
4. I’m grateful for my inner child who makes friends far better than my adult self ever did.
5. I’m grateful for abundance; love, friendship, joy, simplicity, risk taking, opportunities, wonder, excitement, compassion, belonging, peace, harmony, balance, health, philanthropy, and prosperity.

Namaste

 

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.

If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her Hire Me page for more information. You can also find her on Facebook as Sheri Levenstein-Conaway Author