I have a room in my house (doesn’t everyone?) that’s a storehouse of “undiscovered treasures.” Any time I’m working on a project and I am in need of something (like a food dehydrator or a wrench), I check the spare room first. Invariably, I find what I am looking for. Or something else that will work instead.
While I always enjoy a good treasure hunt, I worry that this room is really just a physical manifestation of my cluttered mind. Yes, there’s good stuff in there like that extra set of twinkly lights, but there’s a lot of crap too, like the hairball Ambhyrr (Cat #1) threw up in 2007 which is now moldy and possibly breathing.
What other ick is in there?
When I first bought The Estate, I imaged this room as the “Creativity Center.” But, looking around, I see that the only thing created here in the last 5½ years is a really big mess.
Again, the similarity to my usual state of mind is striking.
As the scent of the New Year lingers in the air, I release my attachment to the clutter that I think keeps me “safe.” This may take a while as I have more than one room like this, but, as God is my witness, I will de-clutter.
Today, I went into the Spare Room and took out two things I used (balls of yarn) and two things I threw away (large pieces of cardboard). Only 457,862.7 things left to go.
That’s progress, isn’t it?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
2009
The year started off with a bang! when, in January, I was kicked out of my life.
I was not welcome to the people or the places or the events around which I had built a network. One day I was part of something, the next I wasn’t -- with no opportunity for discussion or appeal. Eight years undone in the same number of hours.
It took several dazed yet frenetic weeks to realize the extent of this banishment. In March, an experience on a downtown Portland street corner gave me a glimpse into a future of which I wanted no part. Of that I was sure.
So, unable to wait any longer for understanding, I set out to re-build my life. Again.
The good news (there were three good things in 2009; this the first one) was that my Muse came back. This time, I don’t care if I get squeezed out the asshole of the Universe. At least I know what to expect. I do have the gift of resurrection.
I was feeling almost hopeful around mid-summer, despite the 107 degrees. Perhaps the pain and agony of the previous six months were worth the inspiration and contentment that were seeping back into my skin.
Then SWAT Team showed up.
This event will have its own (future) blog entry, so for now, let me say this: When the SWAT Team takes position in your front yard, it’s time to make some changes. Granted, I was relieved they were not there for me (this time), but nonetheless. Forced participation in a 13-hour standoff gives one time to think.
Just as I decided to venture back out into the world, My Person found me (the second good thing that happened during 2009). While this was wonderful, My Person found me on the same day I learned my Beloved Father required major surgery to repair his heart.
As this was both the best and the worst day of my entire life, I began to make plans for both the best and the worst.
Then, on Halloween, a karmic mood swing came down and wiped out all of my plans. I am still REALLY PISSED about this. I realize by writing about it I have to let it go. I understand the cure for Karma Hangover is to be thankful for the reset. However, I have no interest in being that mature.
The third (and best best) good thing that happened in 2009 was my Beloved Father came through his surgery with flying colors. That joy, too, was short-lived as his recovery has been grueling.
So: That’s three good things out of an approximate 1100 things total in 2009. That’s 3/1100 or 0.003 or 0.3% good things that happened in 2009. That’s like an F-.
Even Santa didn’t visit.
The bottom line is: Any year that ends with me menstruating twice is not a good one. Now there is no doubt; inspiration and contentment have been replaced by uterus-flipping stress.
I welcome you with open arms, 2010. I look forward to you helping me flip it all back.
I was not welcome to the people or the places or the events around which I had built a network. One day I was part of something, the next I wasn’t -- with no opportunity for discussion or appeal. Eight years undone in the same number of hours.
It took several dazed yet frenetic weeks to realize the extent of this banishment. In March, an experience on a downtown Portland street corner gave me a glimpse into a future of which I wanted no part. Of that I was sure.
So, unable to wait any longer for understanding, I set out to re-build my life. Again.
The good news (there were three good things in 2009; this the first one) was that my Muse came back. This time, I don’t care if I get squeezed out the asshole of the Universe. At least I know what to expect. I do have the gift of resurrection.
I was feeling almost hopeful around mid-summer, despite the 107 degrees. Perhaps the pain and agony of the previous six months were worth the inspiration and contentment that were seeping back into my skin.
Then SWAT Team showed up.
This event will have its own (future) blog entry, so for now, let me say this: When the SWAT Team takes position in your front yard, it’s time to make some changes. Granted, I was relieved they were not there for me (this time), but nonetheless. Forced participation in a 13-hour standoff gives one time to think.
Just as I decided to venture back out into the world, My Person found me (the second good thing that happened during 2009). While this was wonderful, My Person found me on the same day I learned my Beloved Father required major surgery to repair his heart.
As this was both the best and the worst day of my entire life, I began to make plans for both the best and the worst.
Then, on Halloween, a karmic mood swing came down and wiped out all of my plans. I am still REALLY PISSED about this. I realize by writing about it I have to let it go. I understand the cure for Karma Hangover is to be thankful for the reset. However, I have no interest in being that mature.
The third (and best best) good thing that happened in 2009 was my Beloved Father came through his surgery with flying colors. That joy, too, was short-lived as his recovery has been grueling.
So: That’s three good things out of an approximate 1100 things total in 2009. That’s 3/1100 or 0.003 or 0.3% good things that happened in 2009. That’s like an F-.
Even Santa didn’t visit.
The bottom line is: Any year that ends with me menstruating twice is not a good one. Now there is no doubt; inspiration and contentment have been replaced by uterus-flipping stress.
I welcome you with open arms, 2010. I look forward to you helping me flip it all back.
Introduction
Hello Everyone Out There. Greetings from Over Here.
The purpose of this blog is to officially (and publicly, so there is no going back) let go of my anger.
Two winters ago, I was giving a lecture to my abnormal psychology class about how unexpressed anger can manifest in a myriad of ways.
One of my students asked, "Professor, what do you do with your anger?"
For the first time in 17 years, I was silenced by a question. I simply stood and stared at the student, open-mouthed.
I thought I did a GREAT job of keeping my outrage under wraps.
Apparently not. At least to one person.
"How many others?" I wondered, when -- much later -- I regained my faculties.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At times, late at night, I wonder if there is anyone out there; if anyone is really listening or if ANYONE actually cares.
After 10 years of working with the criminally insane and 20 years working with college students (two groups with more in common than one might suspect), I wonder how many people I've actually helped? How many have come away from their time with me somehow better, happier, inspired? Most of what I remember is the recidivism and the negative feedback and the jealousy-fueled battles with my colleagues.
And the lawsuits. Oh, the lawsuits.
There is one student who told me she stayed in college and wants to be a psychologist because of her time in my classes. This should be flattering; however, I despair over someone wanting to follow in my footsteps. It's been a rough road.
Maybe I'm just depressed.
The psychologists say that depression is anger turned inward and so now I arrive at my point:
Welcome. Welcome to my blog.
It's taken two years and devastating loss to answer my student's question. The answer is:
For the record: The birthday of this blog is January 1, 2010, which is exactly three months, three weeks and one day after The Moment.
Confidential to ST, soon-to-be SC: Thank you for the encouragement to write a blog. Yours was the straw that broke the back of my rectal-cranial inversion.
*Note. There are 535 people in the US Congress.
Happy New Year.
The purpose of this blog is to officially (and publicly, so there is no going back) let go of my anger.
Two winters ago, I was giving a lecture to my abnormal psychology class about how unexpressed anger can manifest in a myriad of ways.
One of my students asked, "Professor, what do you do with your anger?"
For the first time in 17 years, I was silenced by a question. I simply stood and stared at the student, open-mouthed.
I thought I did a GREAT job of keeping my outrage under wraps.
Apparently not. At least to one person.
"How many others?" I wondered, when -- much later -- I regained my faculties.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At times, late at night, I wonder if there is anyone out there; if anyone is really listening or if ANYONE actually cares.
After 10 years of working with the criminally insane and 20 years working with college students (two groups with more in common than one might suspect), I wonder how many people I've actually helped? How many have come away from their time with me somehow better, happier, inspired? Most of what I remember is the recidivism and the negative feedback and the jealousy-fueled battles with my colleagues.
And the lawsuits. Oh, the lawsuits.
There is one student who told me she stayed in college and wants to be a psychologist because of her time in my classes. This should be flattering; however, I despair over someone wanting to follow in my footsteps. It's been a rough road.
Maybe I'm just depressed.
The psychologists say that depression is anger turned inward and so now I arrive at my point:
Welcome. Welcome to my blog.
It's taken two years and devastating loss to answer my student's question. The answer is:
(Now), I let it go.
In this blog, I let go of my anger. I let go of the injustices, the insults, the injuries and the ignorance I have allowed to block my path for far too long. A sort of spiritual enema, if you will.
Over the course of the next 365 days, I will let go of (at least) 100 things that have/are pissed/pissing me off.
Lest you think that 100 is a lot, there are 535 people* that are pissing me off right at this very moment.
Lest you think that 100 is a lot, there are 535 people* that are pissing me off right at this very moment.
For the record: The birthday of this blog is January 1, 2010, which is exactly three months, three weeks and one day after The Moment.
Confidential to ST, soon-to-be SC: Thank you for the encouragement to write a blog. Yours was the straw that broke the back of my rectal-cranial inversion.
*Note. There are 535 people in the US Congress.
Happy New Year.
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