Tuesday, September 14, 2010
(Lovely, kitschy Mary photo courtesy of Marcy since I am having computer issues.)
A while ago, I took a wee bloggy break for the first time in over two years of blogging almost daily, and when I came back, I announced a new Monday/Wednesday/Friday schedule. I am still aiming for that in my head, but then...
My head can get in the way.
Whatever you want to label me (or yourself) -- whether it be depression or anxiety or Complex-PTSD -- whatever you want to label me (or yourself), this work I am doing is damn hard and I am not always very good at it.
I have days when I feel like it is all behind me. I have days when I feel a bit like Super Woman and anything and everything is surmountable. Every jump is jumpable. I am on top of the World. I have scaled the mountain.
This is not Mania I am talking about. No, not at all. This is just that precious space we sometimes occupy (some of us more than most) that might be most appropriately labeled Normal Human Joy in Living. You know -- where you feel like you are where you are meant to be and the breathing is easy. When you feel like you are Aware and Awake.
When you feel like, sure, there is Hard Work every day but so what? I can, We can do this.
Then there are these Other Days...
They are fewer and farther between, that is certain. They are less bad when they do come.
But my Good is so much Better than it ever has been that "less bad" still feels utterly rotten when compared.
It's all relative.
This past weekend, I had some of these Other Days. I had been triggered severely earlier in the week. Marcy and I talked it through, and I thought, "Look. At. Us. Using our new skills and not collapsing under the weight of what used to feel like could kill me..."
But Complex-PTSD is tricky, and there was residue, for lack of a better word, still floating around in my psyche.
This happens. Suddenly -- or so it seems -- I feel like I am filled with the Poison of Fear that is No Longer Real. This Poison is a metaphor, yes, but it also has a very real and physical feeling to it -- a feeling that I become utterly desperate to be cleansed of. The anger builds and the Poison spreads and soon I am not of my Mind in this Beautiful Moment.
Soon I am of the Mind of the Fearful and Powerless Child.
The sadness and grief are so overwhelming that there are these moments when I am so submerged that I am convinced that this time I will drown.
I do not.
This past weekend, what saved me?
Teaching what I needed.
That has never meant more to me ever before in my life. How true it is -- the Saving Grace of Teaching what we Need.
I had to show up to a Kundalini Yoga & Movement class. If anything, I am someone compelled very strongly by obligation. But I did not have a clue as to how I would make it through this class.
I started by simply going through the motions, because that was all I had access to. And then...I followed an intuition to do something slightly different. I did it, and before I knew it, the stuff coming out of my mouth about our Heart Centers was exactly the medicine that I needed.
I could feel the Poison washing out of my, pouring out of me, as my Heart expanded and my teachings just flowed. Toward the end, as I continued to just follow those intuitions, to be guided, I led some pranayama with imagery and I was open enough to receive some Wisdom that I desperately needed.
Wisdom that, without Kundalini yoga, I would never have been open enough to hear. Wisdom that was so crystal clear that I knew it came from something much larger than me, this little me that still gets confused, that is still suffering, that is Existentially Injured (to borrow a wonderful phrase) but has had enough glimpses of her True Self -- thanks to Dance and Yoga -- that I keep going, working toward that Emerald Green Light that is never gone, only clouded over.