Dolces of life

Yep. I fully believe that we are given exactly what we need when we need it in life. And most of what we need seems to show up when we finally let go of that sense of desperation at needing it. As soon as we allow and trust life and the World and the Universe to provide for us, they do.

And they do a much better job than we ever imagined for ourselves in the first place, anyway.

Post-a-day 2021

Feel the burn

Today, I got to spend some in-person one-on-one time with a dear friend of mine.  She and I have not spoken much lately, because, whenever we do talk, it usually lasts a couple hours or more, and I tend to think of calling her when it is a little too close to bedtime for such a long call.  And our schedules have been kind of opposite – I go to bed early, and she late – which hasn’t helped her be able to reach me either.  We just both accepted that we were in a bit of a scheduling break (break due to scheduling, that is).  

We used to spend at least one evening a week together, spending quality in-person time with one another and a few other good friends.  Then, we actually lived together.  And then I moved away, then back… the latter of which happened right before she moved away.  (Not too far, but far enough that even weekly hangouts were out of the question.  So, instead, we talk on the phone a lot, which is actually quite nice.

Anyway, today, we spent time together in person.  And it was amazing.

The other day, I had almost cried when someone held my hand – it was a surprise for me to have such a reaction, but it was an important but near-forgotten sensation from what feels like oh-so-long-ago.  I was nearly overwhelmed by the feeling, by the comforting warmth and pressure in just the right place.  Just as our hands were growing slightly damp in the middle, and my insides were breathing with pure comfort and delight at this specific, if odd, comfort from so many moments in my life, he dropped my hand.  Naturally, I went a bit crazy in my mind about the possibilities as to why he did that.  And I don’t just mean then. I mean mostly afterward, and borderline obsessively.  (Fortunately, I can acknowledge when it has been enough, and I can just let it all go, but I certainly allow myself to delve, if only for a short time.)  From a logic standpoint, it was likely due to the sweat that he dropped my hand, although it was because of the sweat that I was so filled.  

Nonetheless, as I considered this over the next couple days, I began to see how much I had not seen regarding my need for physical comfort.  My brain, body, and psyche need physical contact to survive, not just to thrive.  And I have been getting by on the absolute bare minimum lately, and so certainly not thriving.  Life has been just that much harder because of it.

And so, this evening, as that all was not news to this friend, I was given a good, solid rub-down.  Her strong, firm, warm hands placed intentional, loving pressure on my back, both massaging my muscles and giving me comfort.  Then she purposefully rubbed all along my arms and each finger, my neck and shoulders, and each leg.  I asked her to treat me like a dog, and give me a rub-down, and she did.  And it was extremely comforting at the time.  Then, further along in our hanging out together, rather than just giving hug after hug at things, we just sat together in an embrace, I somewhat in her lap, arms around her waist.  Her strong arms held me tight around my shoulders and back, as my head pressed against her upper chest, and she rested her chin atop my head.

When she had first arrived, there was no doubt in either of our minds that I was struggling.  I have a lot of things causing stress in my daily life at the moment – a lot.  And those things have begun taking a greater hold of my attention each day, as their volume and significance have increased.  Now, about to go to sleep, I don’t necessarily notice feeling any specific way, but that I notice a lack of something.  There is something gone that was previously here, weighing me down.  I am not tense and stress-y, clenching somehow with my whole being.  I am comfortably standing, wide-legged, shoulders totally chill and relaxed, breathing very calm and easy, all without effort.  Now, I am merely getting ready for bed.  I see those things that have been stressing me, but they are just something I see – they are not taking me over anymore.  I am breathing easily, without restriction or strain (that, though I could push through them, they certainly were there before).

And I can breathe, simply because my body can handle it all again.  My skin and muscles and hair follicles were rejuvenated by her hands and arms, and they are all breathing freely once again.  All because I got a rub-down.

It may sound silly, but there’s a reason that has become an actual job in some countries – people need it.  Remember, babies die without physical contact.  It’s a wonder we haven’t come up with something for this for people sooner, I suppose.

Man…

Post-a-day 2021

^Meh… got it, but had to consider

Satisfaction… at last

Tonight, going to bed, I feel fulfilled.  Typically, I have this feeling of needing to go do something before I can end my day.  I am angsty and somewhat agitated by the late afternoon, and I feel this pull from somewhere inside of me, but I can’t ever quite figure out how to follow it, how to satisfy the desire within.  I notice right now that I almost didn’t even feel a pull to write anything tonight – that’s how satisfied I am with my day.  It was fabulous, and so I can sleep easily, without anything else happening first.  And I love writing, so that’s saying something.

Kids were unintentional rude in classes today, ignoring my pleas for quite voices, so that I could be heard with my pained, achy throat barely able to choke out words.  I let them spend the time with an activity for their own benefit, and most of them ignored it or didn’t care enough about their own education to attempt the activity, which was disappointing.  A few really took it on, and some decided it was time to talk with me about anything and everything in my life, while I showed them how to do some of the work.  It was an odd balance of awesome and disappointing, combined with my throat being slightly consumed by a low-grade fire.

After school, I chatted with a few teachers from my own high school, plus a friend who now teaches there.  That was amazing in and of itself.  Add to it that I met up with a friend for tapioca tea afterward, and my day continues to improve.  We ended up having dinner with the teas, and then she invited me to join a hip-hop class with her.  Neither of us has ever been very good or experienced with hip-hop, but we love dancing, and we both have strong partner dance backgrounds.  I have wanted to do hip-hop classes ever since my best friend and her husband started doing some over in England a few years back, because she is just plain awesome, and it is always a good idea to strive for her level of awesome.  So I got to be cool like my bestie tonight, and turned out to be actually kind of good at the routine, too.  The teacher even came specifically to my friend (not my best friend, but the friend with whom I had gone to the class) and me, and told us that she wanted us to join her team.  (Note: Seeing as we were just discussing before the class how we hadn’t been involved in anything dance since moving back to the US (we both just returned from living in Asia), we are genuinely considering this hip-hop team idea.)

Now, I am home.  I snacked on some leftovers from dinner, chatted briefly with my mom, and have just showered.  I am tired, but in a really good way right now – I am satisfied.  I don’t know how else to word it.  I am just satisfied, which is something, I now see, that I usually am not at the end of the day.  As I said to my teacher friend earlier this afternoon, I need interaction with non-teenagers.  I get so much teenager interaction, and very little of anything else… and I need more than just interaction with teenagers, no matter how wonderful they are or how much we may love one another.  And, tonight, I got that other interaction, plus involvement in something (the hip-hop class) and exercise.  That is a really, really good combination.  Now to see how to keep this up, happening much more often than once every three months.

Post-a-day 2017

Making space in my life

Today, I spent almost an hour going through clothes, organizing, folding, and putting them away into a dresser, etc., as well as going through four boxes of books and organizing them better and putting them onto a bookshelf.  I have two new small sections of floor visible in my room.


That’s a message I just sent to my brother.  Tomorrow onward, I have to spend at least 15 minutes each day, doing cleanup/clean-out in my bedroom and/or bathroom, six days a week.  I am reporting the completed tasks to one of my brothers each day.

This has been one of the most difficult things in my life, moving to a near-minimalist lifestyle.  We have this bit in our DNA, in our blood, that has us sit as though we need hoarding in our lives.  My brothers and I have been intent on freeing ourselves from its grasp.  I am the youngest, and have spent the most time with the family who exudes the gene so obviously, so I am the last to reach my own breaking point – I will live free of this.  Now, I am simply dealing with my own laziness and exhaustion after a full day of work.

For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t able to get rid of things.  I had clothing, among other things, that I did not want to wear.  And yet, I could not get rid of it.  Today, I noticed that, if the cashier girl had complemented my bracelet, I would have offered it to her willingly.  And this isn’t just any bracelet – it’s one of the natural stone bracelets that I made.  I love these bracelets.  It is as though I am two different people in these two scenarios.  The difference was what happened one day in my apartment.

I was looking around at my colorful explosion of clothing all over my wall bedroom floor.  I enjoyed the color and the explosion at first, but I’d wanted it to go away after, at most, an hour…, and it hadn’t, and I knew it wouldn’t.  I didn’t even have enough space to store all of the clothes around me, so putting them away just wasn’t an actual option.  After some amount of time, I found myself crying, sobbing, really.  I don’t want this stuff, I cried to myself passionately, so why can’t I get rid of it?  And then the revelation hit me: I would be wasting my mom’s hard-earned money.

My mom was a mom initially, once she started having children.  After she and my dad split up, she had to take on a more full-time work schedule, on top of being a mom.  And she was a massage therapist, so her work was physical labor.  I grew up knowing that the money she earned took a good amount of effort.  It kind of was “hard-earned money”.  And, for me, if I ever were to get rid of something, I felt to my core that I was wasting my mom’s efforts.  And it applied to just about anything I had, whether it had come from her or not.  I just couldn’t get rid of anything, because I subconsciously saw it as a sort of slap to my mom’s face, theoretically, of course.  That very day, when I found myself sobbing on the floor amongst my clothing, and I discovered this simple fact, I was able to begin getting rid of things.  By the end of only a few days, I had two or three huge trash bags of clothing ready for donation.  (My cousin went through them first, just to pull out whatever she would use gladly from it all, because we always do that, anyway, and then she dropped them off at the place by where she lived.)

After that week, my struggle has just been laziness.  I have a couple decades worth of things that have been living at my mom’s house.  I have gone through about 15 years’ worth of boxes and bags so far, and things are really looking up.  I have accumulated less and less these past several years, and so I really only have about 7 years’ worth of things left  to clear out.  I know of, I believe, two boxes in the attic, and an unknown number hiding somewhere in the garage.  Otherwise, I only have two and a half small boxes remaining in my room from childhood.  The rest of the boxes are from my apartment, and I don’t exactly have a need to be unpacking kitchen supplies, nor getting rid of them, when I’ll just need them all again in another couple months.  I do, however, want to verify that I don’t have any excesses in those boxes, though that will wait until I finish getting rid of all of the other stuff, and possibly until I am actually moving, depending on the timeframe.

My plan is to finish things with my bedroom by the 30th of December at 11:00p.m.  Then, I’ll have January and February (and hopefully cool weather) to do whatever needs to be done with the garage and attic.  After that, I can move to helping my mom with whatever I can around the rest of the house.  And then, possibly, grad school begins, and I decide where I will reside.

Anyway, that’s just what’s on my mind right now.  I feel good about what I accomplished tonight, though I know I need to take things slowly, which stresses me.  If I spend too much time on it all, two things will happen.  I will get burnt out quickly, and stop doing things altogether to clean up/out, and I will get too little sleep, and suffer for it.  So, as much as I dislike taking so long on all of this, the task moves from daunting to doable, when I split it to 15 minutes a day, six days a week.  And that means that I can have it all be happening while I’m still working over full=time.  I’m looking for a beautiful and easy transition to January, and that includes a clean, clear, and organized room, with an easy place to work.  So, I’m hopping to it, and I have my brother helping me to stay accountable, in spite of my laziness.

Post-a-day 2017