It is a story that is quite old in our family, one that has been retold several times at Christmas, Thanksgiving…anytime we are all together. It is now fondly regaled with lots of laughter but when it happened there was no laughter involved. There was anger. There were harsh words. There was a feeling of unworthiness. Then silence.
Read more “Under All the Chocolate Cake, Frosting and Vanilla Creme”
I made it. I found myself on the board of one of our community organizations that was populated by the movers and the shakers; the individuals that helped shape our community with their decisions. This was a place I had dreamed of being, a place to make a difference and I was humbled to have arrived. Like so many things, however, the perception and the reality don’t always align. After several months I found there was a lot of talk, many words and ideas shared but action became bogged down in posturing and differing agendas. The movers and shakers were more the talkers and sitters. Fortunately I realized this was not the place for me and resigned from the organization after a short two years. Â
Being an HSP in a culture that doesn’t value kindness (Nice guy finishes last!) or the other traits we tend to have is challenging. I have often felt like I was the odd one out, a square peg trying to fit in the round hole, and I had no one with whom to share these similar experiences. So I adapted.Â
It was a dreary morning as I was walking my dog in the neighborhood. Treasured time for me most mornings as I cleared my thoughts and prepared for the day ahead but on this one particular morning I was lost in thought, not in preparation for the day, but in dread.  My business was closed due to the pandemic and I felt lost in the myriad of information presented from so many different sources of how I should be moving forward. My shoulders were heavy and the way forward seemed dim. Â
My husband has joked with me through the years about my visits to the beach. Though I enjoy the beach I had developed a very particular experience that I wanted to have when there. It couldn’t be too hot or too cold. Too sunny or too cloudy. I did enjoy a slight breeze but definitely not something that could be called wind. I enjoyed the sand when it was warm to walk on, too hot was definitely not preferred and too cold was not fun. He even teased me that there was too much sand. (Sad to say there were a few times when I would bemoan the amount of sand that kept finding itself on my towel.) I was Goldilocks personified. Â
It was a beautiful sunny day with just a bit of a breeze and my husband wanted to go for bike ride up one of the trails near our home. I was hesitant as the hill he wanted to climb was rather steep for about a mile and I was not confident in my ability to make it. He assured me we could turn around at any point so we embarked on our little adventure. Surprisingly, I had requested only one brief stop midway up the hill before resuming our trek. Soon the top came into in view, teasing us with its proximity, and we continued until just a few hundred feet from our destination. And then I stopped. Not a rest stop, but a full on my lungs were burning and my heart felt like it would leap out of my chest at any moment stop. As I stood gasping, straddling my bike with my feet firmly planted on the ground, my husband encouraged me to rest and catch my breath. He maintained we could make it, which really meant he knew he could and was trying to make me believe I could as well. As my breathing relaxed he instructed me to begin riding by heading down hill first before turning back up. Crazy idea I thought and stubbornly hopped back on the bike with the tires pointed straight up hill attempting to pedal. Making no progress other than spinning my wheels in the sand, I stopped, completely defeated and gave my husband that look of ‘I’m done and knew I couldn’t do this’ at which time he again encouraged me to try riding down hill first. Shrugging my shoulders I gave it a try. Then the magic happened. Heading back down hill gave me enough momentum that I was able to turn back up hill and made it to the top of the trail. Progress!
The landscape for most people has changed, at least a bit if not dramatically, with the advent of the pandemic. With shelter at home decrees or just plain wanting to stay safe, what was perceived as a ‘normal’ daily routine quickly became a thing of the past. For me there was a period of time that it felt like the Earth was holding her breath as we figured out how to navigate living in a world with the threat of a deadly foe that was unseen and virtually undetectable. Â
Lower the bar. Don’t worry about what you are accomplishing, there are more important things to consider during these times. I recently had this posed to my by someone asking that isn’t this the time to lower the bar, if only for a bit? Â
I had to sit with this for a moment as my initial reaction was quite strong. Lowering the bar has never been the answer for me. Pushing through and reaching the bar is what I know because there is always more work to be done, more learning to be accomplished, more cleaning to do, more books to read, more…just fill in the blank. However, I reminded myself, we are all facing different challenges that a mere three months ago we hadn’t even considered. So maybe there was some validity in exploring this option. Â
It’s funny how we recognize something in another that we don’t see in ourselves. I had heard often that others are a mirror to us if we care to look and pay attention but I am not sure I ever truly understood or believed this theory. I have found that when I am sitting in judgement of another that is usually a signal that I have healing to address but for other emotions or thoughts which I don’t identify as a ‘judgement’ I hadn’t felt this mirror business held true. Until I listened to a podcast by Kara Lowentheil about entitlement.
I had the chance encounter with someone that I had associated with in high school a few years back. We had not been close but had many mutual friends during our teenage years and our paths had crossed on a regular basis with friendly interaction the norm. Many years had passed before our paths crossed again at a public function. I acknowledged her with a smile and greeting, however, she acted as if we had never met and remained very distant. I thought this strange and took on the burden of her reaction thinking I must have done or said something that warranted the treatment.  Believing this was a one time encounter I didn’t pursue the issue and didn’t even give it much thought for quite some time. Then,  several months later, she joined the adult dance class I was in.  Again, week after week, she treated me not only as a stranger but as if I didn’t exist. Wow, I must have really done something, I chastised myself, ceasing my friendly overtures and mentally shrugging because you can’t fix something if you don’t know what the problem is. Read more “A High School Hangover”