tides and seasons of my secret life

I called the shrink today.

He didn’t eat me on the phone, so we arranged a meeting later this week.

… every time it actually starts to work.

Every time I find another convenient reason for bailing. I get sick. I mean, I get really sick, not just pretending, but why does that happen in the first place? And why do I take it as an excuse. Or I am heartbroken, so best thing to do is stay at home and hide under piles of blankets and cushions, until I start vegetating? Or I surrender to depression, winter, darkness and cold? What kind of consistent practice is one that I can only keep up in summer? Oh, wait Summer’s too hot to even move and too nice to hang out in the shadows with a martini rather than sticking to the mat. So what it all comes down to in the end are a few inconsistent, irregular practices thrown in here and there when guilt starts plaguing me.

I finally found a Yoga studio which looks quite appealing. The yoga, the shrink, the bagua, it’s all about giving up convenience. It’s about investment - how much am I ready to invest myself? Enough to give up procrastinating and taxi rides, so that I have enough money to spare? Enough to give up some comfort and maybe take the bus or walk, even if it’s dark and cold outside? Enough to stop being a wimp and taking myself so so seriously in my misery? ‘Cause, in the end, I’m the one who chooses to lie around being miserable instead of getting things into perspective. I know, this sounds pretty pathetic, but let’s face it, that’s the truth. I sabotage my own practice. Thank you, Richard Freeman, for letting me know

It’s about time I gave it another try.

Come, come, whoever you are.

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.

It doesn’t matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times

Come, yet again, come, come.

 

~ Rumi

I found this one over at Maddie’s today and I thought it might be fun. This place really needs some cheering up so I tagged myself Enjoy.

1. What were you afraid of as a child? - Oh, those dark secrets of a child’s soul. Didn’t I mention cheering up? I was afraid my dad would drive after alcohol consumption (to put that nicely) and would have a car crash. Basically, I was afraid my dad would die, which I am still afraid of, although for altogether different reasons. I was afraid my mum would go to the grocery store one day and never come back. Jeez.

2. When have you been most courageous? - Dunno. Bungee jumping. Climbing mountain tops in winter. Telling my dad he is an alcoholic when I was 15? But I guess showing up each day at work tops it all. Call me Lil’ Miss Courage

3. What sound most disturbs you? - Ambulance pulling in the driveway. Heart rate monitor beeping. Oh, my mum’s voice rather often. And the chief’s yelling.

4. What is the greatest amount of physical pain you’ve been in? - When it comes to physical pain, I’m a wimp. I guess most people wouldn’t even flinch at what I call painful. But migraine pain makes me wanna take a shot in the head.

5. What’s your biggest fear for your children? (or children in general if you don’t have your own) - Fetal malformations. Meningitis. Getting hit by a car. Whatnot.

6. What is the hardest physical challenge you’ve achieved? - Climbing said mountain top (3000 m) on December, 31st 2002. We have snow over here. Avalanches, now and then. And it was pretty damn cold.

7. Which do you prefer: Mountains or oceans/big water? - I take them both, under different circumstances. Mountains make me feel strong, they boost my self-confidence. The sea, well, that’s a whole other story.

8. What is the one thing you do for yourself that helps you keep everything together? - Practice, meditate.

9. Ever had a close relative or friend with cancer? - My paternal grandmother died of lung cancer when I was 10. She never smoked. Ahem. (note to self: give up smoking). When I was 13, a close friend was diagnosed with leukaemia. She’s doing pretty good now, 13 years later. I have a friend with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, too. I’m worried sick about him, but he’s a fighter.

10. What are the things your friends count on you for? - Almost everything, from giving medical advice to always having a shoulder to cry on, to writing last minute university assignments into the wee hours of morning.

11. What is the best part of being in a committed relationship? - Always having someone to warm my cold feet at night? No, really, I love having him around to cuddle at night.

12. What is the hardest part of being in a committed relationship? - Being honest at all cost. Paying attention. Putting his needs over mine.

13. Winter  or Summer ? Why? - Summer, definitely. Make that 100 degrees for me, please. Long days, lots of endorphin-production-inducing sunshine. The sea as warm as tea water. Oh, what more need I say. I hate being cold. Darkness depresses me, in a most literal sense. I’m born in Spring, this will do, too.

14. Have you ever been in a school-yard fight? Why and what happened? - Don’t remember, so I guess not. But I’ve been in playground fights over other children’s toys. But this was such a looong time ago.

15. Why blog? - Therapy. Also a chance to look back and see where I stand now. Set reminders for myself. Face the mirror. It’s only of advantage that I love writing.

16. Did you learn about sex, and/or sex safety from your parents? - Books. And my biology teacher in 5th/6th grade, whom I adored. My parents are the kind of people who blush at mentioning The Subject.

17. How do you plan to talk to your kids about sex and/or sex safety? - Age appropriately. The birds and the bees? Not my thing.

18. What are you most thankful for this year? - Falling in love. Growing pains. Abstract kinda stuff, I know. Other than that, climbing a mountain, seeing the sea. Four months worth of dog walking sessions in the park

Now… Since MPJ has already been tagged by Maddy, I’m tagging Gartenfische at her other place, Yogamum at Yogagumbo, Kirsten at Now and Never and YogaGuide at Meeting myself on the mat. Looks like fun to you? Tag yourself, but make sure to let me know, so I can have a peek.

Donutszenmom commented on my last entry and since I don’t think she realized what she really did by doing so ;), I’m gonna have to tell her:

Dear DZM, today you saved me from falling apart. ‘Cause, see. I kinda settled with the decision to go see someone. BUT I still kept feeling like a failure, since I had some inner monologue going on and it went like this:

Voice A: Why do you need therapy? You don’t actually need therapy. Why don’t you just meditate and practice and things will surely get better in time. This is soooo weak. Why do you need to go over that crap all over again? It’s over. It’s not even real anymore, just some old ghosts coming back to haunt you. You are so pathetic. Pffft. Psychology is not good enough, it’s inferior, it’s limited. You need need to sit in silence blah blah and forgiveness blah blah and stop feeling sorry for yourself blah blah and there’s nothing an analyst can do that meditation and practice can’t blah blah.

Voice B: Girl, you’re in trouble. Spirituality’s all fine, but you need to climb some stairs if you want to reach the roof. There’s no such thing as parachutes in real life. You can’t skip steps and still pretend you’re moving on. You’ll have to pay for that. You are stupid. If you keep being in denial, you’ll keep getting unsatisfactory results from your practice as well. There’s some garbage to get rid of, before you can go on and be all spiritual and white light. Don’t you see it keeps coming back? Do you want to look back some day and find yourself still standing here? But you’ll probably be 20 years older and up to nothing anymore. Why are you being so stubborn?!?

So this is where DZM interrupted this broadcast with her comment. In order to understand why this is so important, I’ll have to tell you that I look up to her. She’s disciplined, she never settles for the mediocre, she never compromises. Well, maybe she sometimes does, but still I admire her for being such a role-model She has studied koans and sits in zazen and hardly ever misses out on regular Ashtanga practice. What is not to admire about that? And from what I’ve read on her blog, she seems pretty much self-sufficient. But like, really self-sufficient, not that fake version of mine, which is intended to cover up all the fear. (Sorry, DZM, I don’t want to boost your ego, but you can cope with that, no?)

Basically what she said is: It’s ok to take that road, you are not going to lose your time, you are not going to betray your high standards. All you may become is a lot lighter and this will ease your further practice. You don’t need that shit in your brain, so go get rid of it. (I’ve done that, too and that’s part of the road I’ve traveled so today you can look up to me ;))

Okay, she would never say that last part But that’s how I read what she wrote. And I so needed that. Thank you, DZM, I didn’t even realize you were reading all this. But your timing is amazingly perfect. And I feel just a little bit better by having silenced that chatter of the mind.

Update: I’ve got the phone number of the therapist by now. Just don’t have the guts to call him yet. But I’ll let you know when I figure that one out.

I’ve had some real bad times in my life. And I guess I never really got over it, since memories and emotions keep coming back and tormenting me every once in a while. I’ve tried a lot to help myself, dove deep into spirituality, meditation and eastern body-orientated practices to ease the mind. I can’t deny that helps, but more or less it’s always been about control. Control the monsters so they don’t get a chance to grab a hold on me.

Now and then, when things became too painful, I would talk to a friend and vent a little. Then I would go back to being in denial strong and self-sufficient. But I guess when you store those monsters in your closet for too long (and keep adding new ones), it’s only a matter of time, until the closet bursts and they are all set free.

I’ve been tired and exhausted lately and losing the person I cared most about has made me vulnerable. I spent some time with a friend last night, sitting in her car, smoking a cig and talking. We reached the conclusion venting to friends is not what is going to help me in the long run. First of all, other human beings are not supposed to be “ashtrays for the soul” (and I feel even worse afterwards for having spluttered them with all my pain) and second, there must be some reason people graduate in psychology after 5 or 6 years of study. Some reason why they could help me better that the average “hobby-soul-savior”. In the end of it all, I must admit being strong and self-sufficient is just a plausible excuse for actually being terrified. I know once I embark on that journey it is going to be a long and painful ride. I’ll have to bring out those monsters and face them, one by one. But since nothing else I’ve tried has made them go away, well, yes, maybe I need to admit defeat. And go get some help.

(I wonder whether recent developments have something to do with the lunar return on my progressive chart. Since the moon stands for emotions and womanhood, maybe it’s time to take the road to healing.)

I’ve got a corn on my right middle finger, people. From. Writing. A corn from working three months at a Pediatric ICU. I didn’t get a corn when I started writing at 4 years old. I didn’t get a corn when my mum made me copy all those exercise books with the irregular drawn margins and the ugly letters in elementary. I didn’t get a corn in high school from writing 18 pages on Goethe’s Faust. Neither did I get a corn from writing hundreds of letters to my friends who where 1000 miles away. I did not get a corn in med school, even! But I’ve got one now. On the beautiful, slim, perfect middle finger of my right hand. How do I make it go away? Ideas, anyone?

And oh, I loved to see Christina’s mouth twitch a little when Bailey announced she was taking over chief residency from Callie. It was a bit like hey, at least some things will be back to normal.

… this week I thought I might be pregnant. Maybe it was more of a wish. I was feeling a little pukey and hungry all the time, and I wouldn’t mind eating meatballs and chocolate for dinner, so I put 2 and 2 together and hoped. I’m not the kind of girl who thinks she’s pregnant every month. Actually I only figured that once before, when I was traveling a lot and my cycle was all messed up. I had just started pediatrics training and I fainted early one morning during rounds, so everybody just started joking, hey, are you pregnant? And God, how I wished I was…

I’ve been following Julia’s blog for about an year now. She went from having 12 miscarriages to being pregnant with twins. Stacie’s had some rough times, too, but there she is in her little black dress, 19 glorious weeks pregnant. Then, there is Superhero Andrea who had just had her gorgeous, I tell you, son Ben when I started visiting her place regularly. Ben has grown into full blown amazing cuteness. On it goes, this list of women, getting pregnant, having babies all around my real and virtual world. Babies becoming toddlers becoming children, going off to school and yeah, inevitably growing into little conscious human beings.

I’ve had this deep longing to become a mother, since I was, say, 5 years old? My mum had my brothers when I was 4 and 6, respectively. I spent years changing diapers, watching them trip, picking them up, putting them to to sleep, teaching them to read and write, and even German. Why I got to do all this at the tender age of 6 or 8, or even 10, that’s a whole other story. But I’ve got training, you see. Maybe that’s why I picked pediatrics at the end. Every now and then I get to hear than being a pediatrician is a lot like being a vet, since they are all small and whiny, and they can’t really tell you what’s wrong with them. Well, I personally don’t need many words. Right now we have this baby at the clinic, he’s the child of a drug-dependent mum and he was a bit restless last night. Everyone’s thinking withdrawal symptoms, but I picked him up and massaged his belly and he instantly became quiet. So no withdrawal I guess, just a colicky baby. I fed him some formula and rocked him some more and he fell asleep on my chest, and slept for hours on end in his crib afterwards.

All those babies around are driving me hormone-mad-crazy. I imagine myself being pregnant and know this is going to be a blissful time. I have this thing for rounding bellies, there couldn’t possibly be anything more beautiful than womanhood fulfilled, growing and nourishing another perfect human being inside your own body.

Moral of the story: Girl, you need to get on that project. Real soon.

Maternity Bliss, Mixed Media by Kelly Rae Roberts

I’m always aware not to get too attached to The Big Things, like (the person I) love or where I might be and what I might be doing in one year’s time. But what about Small Things? Since Monday I’ve planned on going out tonight. I styled up for the first time in… umh, a loooong time. Make-up and all. I was pretty excited for most of the day and probably changed clothes 3 or 4 times. And when I was all pretty and shiny and ready to go, I received a call we were not going.

Oh, you wouldn’t wish to be around in moments like this. From one second to the next, I’m all storm clouds and rainy weather. Of course I know, there are things far more important than me sitting in a nice cafe, in my nice new skirt and shirt and having nice small talk, while sipping on a cup of nice mocha latte. Way more important stuff that happens in other people’s lives while I dress up. And still, I wasn’t prepared. I was so focused on how I had planned to spend the evening, that I felt like I had been run over by a car. Oh, full-blown selfish drama queen that I am ;)  Those small moments of carelessness and unawareness towards small things really can hurt.

The moral: Don’t get attached. Not even to how you plan to spend the evening.  Things change. Get f*ckin’ used to it.

Breathe.

I just can’t make it with my schedule. Too tired to even think, most of the time. And tomorrow. Yippee, I’m on duty again.

I have this friend from med school. We’ve lived together for years. She was born one day prior to me. Not even a day, 12 hours, more or less. Same year. She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she’s one of the kindest people I know. She’s specializing in Internal Medicine.  She has seen me through all my ups and downs. She’s let me sleep in her bed when I was afraid to sleep in my own. She’s let me stay at her place and cooked for me, and brought groceries and done the laundry and kept quiet for a month, while I was studying for my graduation exam, which she was probably more nervous about than I was. Argh. Tomorrow she’ll be here (we live in different countries now) for one day and guess what? I. Have. To. Work.

Can’t think of anything better than make her visit at the clinic. Please pray for no emergency calls. I so need this time with her.

Now, I need to get some sleep.

Oh, and this week’s Grey’s was amazing. I’m getting used to those new characters. I hate Hahn for bullying Christina. And I love Lexy for hating apples. Um, I swear there was a point to writing this, but I must have lost it on the way.

Off to bed, definitely.

I’m officially cheating, since I joined the NaBloPoMo and I’ll be dating this post back to November, 6th. Just couldn’t make it yesterday. Sometimes you have to help someone and actually this is you helping yourself in a way. But I’ll explain later. I worked the night before (no catastrophes, phew :)) and slept through most of the day, so I just couldn’t squeeze in any coherent thoughts.

Today’s broadcast is powered by Gartenfische. She commented on Happy Endings and what I have to say about it deserves it’s own space.

I did this too, long ago–following the wrong path because it was enticing and I just wanted to do it. I can’t say I regret it, but I’m glad I ended it when I did and moved on.

To me, it’s not a matter of right or wrong. It’s a matter of choice. It’s not blindly following my desire, but a fully conscious choice to follow my heart. I knew it was going to hurt me, because there was no way he would love me back. But he had something to give, something that was important for me to have, and I went for it. Chances are rare and one has to take them, ’cause only by truly living one does grow. To me, this was revolutionary. Give up all control, give up all thoughts of Forever and For always. Just be there, while it lasts. No plans or presumptions, just tiny little moments of complete, utter, fulfilled love. It was a lesson of letting go, while it still lasted. It was Here and Now and therefore mindblowingly intense. It blows your mind. The mind becomes completely still and blacks out. It stops interfering with its endless chatter. You are, finally, free. (Well, not completely free, of course, but this is a huge step in the right direction.)

And thank you, love, for understanding me so completely, for never judging me, for accepting me as I was, for giving me a safe place to learn to be different, a safe place where right and wrong, good and bad didn’t matter at all. Thank you, love, for listening. Thank you for allowing me to open up and soften. Thank you for witnessing a transformation process and helping me to see through with it. Thank you for never lying to me about your feelings, your thoughts, about what was possible to happen and what was not. Thank you for giving me freedom. Thank you for teaching me, solely by being present, what it means to be present.

So, this was not a Right or Wrong thing. This was a choice. A very deeply deeply transforming one. And one has to pay for the choices one makes. Regret is far more expensive than pain. Letting chances pass you by is unforgivable. We get tiny little chances every day, but the huge ones only come by once in a while, if we’re ready. And backing off because of fear, well, that may be a wrong thing to do.

I’ve studied astrology. I know there are doors that present themselves every now and then. Short moments in time, where everything is possible. Doors that don’t stay open all the time. There is a strong urge to pass that threshold and if you don’t go with the momentum, if you let yourself being wrapped up in fear and mental ideas of what would be nice to happen, instead of what is possible to happen, that energy dissipates and the door closes. It opens, again, later, just to see if you have grown enough to be ready, but… we don’t have time to waste, do we? Life is governed by cycles and some cycles take 12 or even more years to be accomplished and honestly, who can wait 12 more years for this little glimpse of freedom? I surely can’t.

So now what I’m left with is a new “me”, a richer “me”, who knows what it means to be true to the intentions of the heart. It’s a new strength, a new confidence, it’s a new “definition” of love and freedom and what life is worth to be lived for. I’m not that closed up control-freak anymore. Sure, it’s a long way to go, but the direction is right.

To me, it was a warrior’s path to tread on. Choose what you will do and do it, as if it was the last thing you would do in life. Don’t hold anything back, go consciously towards the experience of death (of life as you knew it). Dare. And what remains whole after everything else breaks down in pieces, well, that’s what’s worth it. It’s a cleansing process, freeing yourself of all the superfluous wishful thinking, of all presumptions how you would like things to turn out, freeing yourself of all desire to control how things turn out. Just giving in to the pure experience and being humbled by it. ‘Cause it sure is greater than anything you would have imagined…

°°°

Last night I worked with the horoscope of a dear friend of mine. He’s standing there where I was several months ago. He’s in pain, he’s wrapped up in a rational fear he might do the wrong thing, he knows what lies ahead and he’s afraid to bear the consequences. But in the same time, he knows in his guts, this is the only right way to go. This is what will make him a different, a better person. I have so much compassion for him, since I know exactly where he’s standing. And while working with him, I finally came clear. No, I don’t regret my choice. I love my choice. I love my new “me” and I would have never forgiven myself, if I had let this cup pass me by. I so wish for him that he would gather all his strength and allow himself to live the road that lies ahead. The road’s name is Change. You’re not the same person afterwards, so there is no sense in holding anything back. It won’t be of use, anyway.

Love changes everything…