Twelve-step programs are chock full of slogans and phrases. “Keep coming back”, “It works if you work it”, “Take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth”, “Dealing with life on life’s terms”, “This is a spiritual, not religious program” to name a few off the top of my head. The mantras were easy to remember and keep in mind. They made sense when explained and they helped to break through the fog of fear, insecurity and raw emotions of early sobriety and recovery. The one that truly resonated for me was, “through our inability to accept personal responsibility, we were actually creating our own problems.” Kind of easy to see how that one stuck with me right? My inability to accept personal responsibility created problems well into my sobriety. Like the time, I got my electricity turned off for not paying my bill on time at four years clean and sober. Or the time I unknowingly drove around on a suspended driver’s license for over a year because of an unpaid parking ticket. Or up until six or seven years ago how I used to regularly bounce checks. Yes, I related to that phrase closely for a long time.

But the one I absolutely could not stand to hear, especially when directed at me specifically was “you’re right where you’re supposed to be.” I hated that phrase for years. What did it even mean for fuck’s sake? That’s right, that phrase brought out the f-word (although it doesn’t really take much). People usually said it to me after I’d expressed intolerance, frustration or outrage over something or someone’s behavior. It used to set my teeth on edge. Looking back, clearly I didn’t like where I was emotionally or mentally or spiritually. So it never helped to tell me I was “right where I was supposed to be”. You see, it was my lack of willingness to accept people, situations or myself that caused my frustrations or intolerance. Back then I didn’t know any better.

Today I feel like I’m much more accepting of myself and my life. But is it right where I’m supposed to be? I keep feeling like I should be further along in my spiritual growth, in my search for a new job (hello, I’ve sent my resume to one place as a referral from a friend with no results), in my physical fitness endeavors, in my personal relationships with family, in implementing my ideas to do more with this blog site and I can go on and on. Ah, dear me, here I am “should-ing” all over myself. This is where I go back to the phrase I most related to years ago and turn it on its ear.

Today, through my ability to accept personal responsibility I’m actually creating the life God wants for me. I am committed to maintaining a fit spiritual and physical condition, one day at a time. I am working on what direction to take my job search by looking and searching within myself. That takes time, effort and insight. My personal relationships with family are contingent upon meeting them where they are, not where I think they should be. Not an easy concept to live, but it’s working slowly but surely. As for the blog site, I’ve managed to consistently post in the manner I’ve intended for now.  I do none of these things perfectly or even as consistently as I’d like, but I keep at it no matter what. Eventually, that yields progress, which is always the better thing to aim for. Progress, not perfection- one of THE best slogans EVER! So I can say with mild reluctance that I am right where I’m supposed to be. 

How many old stories do you tell yourself that are just no longer true? Seriously think about them because I know I’m sick of the ones I’ve been telling myself for years. At best these stories were once how I survived the reality of my life. At worst now, they feel like delusional sabotage.

My most recent case in point? Last month I signed up for a TRE, Tension Releasing Exercise workshop at my yoga studio on Sunday, Sept. 20th. I thought I could use with some tension releasing. The facilitator, Tracy,  says the body stores traumas and unreleased tension/bad experiences in the psoas muscle (Google it folks because I’m not going into a long drawn out explanation). The TRE is a set of exercises designed to hyper arouse the  psoas muscle into LOTS of intense shakings and trembling which releases emotions stored there for years in a lot of cases. I had already experienced a small version of it in my first 5-6 yoga classes so I thought I could handle it with no problem. Well the story that began working on me started with propaganda or misinformation. The TRE workshop is from 1 pm to 2 pm, but for some reason in my head I thought it was from 1 pm to 3 pm! I went to a lecture the week before about the heart chakra (Anahata) and that was 2 hours, but all of the posts about the TRE workshop say it’s from 1 pm to 2 pm. Telling myself the workshop is 2 hours long was the beginning of dreading it. Could I even sustain that kind of physicality and emotion for two hours? I woke up this past Sunday morning not feeling so great. Nothing major, but it didn’t help thinking I had a 2-hour exercise workshop that was supposed to help release stored negative emotions or trauma. When I arrived there were a few women who had already set up their yoga mats, so I set mine up accordingly. I was assured by the owner of the studio that I was going to be fine when I admitted I was nervous. I laid down on my mat and did some deep breathing. My head was telling me I was crazy for doing this now that the workshop was here, it wasn’t safe(old story)! I continued to breathe and thought about how wrong the story was. This studio was safe for me because as I wrote earlier, I’d been having emotions come up during yoga classes, from the beginning in that very room. The teacher arrived and there was a lot of activity getting everyone’s mats comfortable with blankets and keeping them away from the walls because we would be using the walls for our exercises. From the start of the workshop, my head would not shut up, and that is not a good thing. It was telling me I was too heavy to do the warm-up exercises. I started to feel like the voice in my head was right and I couldn’t do this. Then we did the first exercise and I did not handle it well. My head kept telling me I couldn’t do this until I felt like it was right. We were to hold a certain pose with our backs and head against the wall in a squatted position, the deeper the better. We were not supposed to straighten our legs or take our backs off the wall and come out of the pose (I did, many times). By this time, I was actively fighting the urge to roll up my mat and run from the studio. I couldn’t breathe deeply and rhythmically either. I was fighting this with all I had. Geez. My teacher went around the room checking in with everyone, mind you, we’re still supposed to be in this pose! When she got to me and asked how I was doing, tears flooded from my tightly clenched eyes and I whispered to her that I couldn’t do this. She assured me that I could and asked me if I could squat a little deeper and widen my stance. She was so calm and reassuring about my tremblings and shaking. She got me breathing even though I was really doing deep sobbing by this time. It seems either my psoas muscle was activated despite my best efforts at resisting or I was just an emotional mess. Either way the tears and tension were releasing. We ended up holding that pose for twenty (20!) minutes! A lot less for me but I did keep going back into the pose and holding it as long as I could with my thighs screaming and my low back/hip area quaking. Next we moved to the mat and did a more familiar exercise and the quaking involved with that is beyond intense. Again the emotions came up, spilling over in tears and clenched fists. When the teacher came around, she gentled my fists until I relaxed them, all the while deep breathing through the quaking and crying. After that exercise came the soothing stretching and Savasana (resting corpse pose). It was over before my head could get back to squawking. I thanked my teacher while hugging her and confessed that I wanted to leave earlier. She quietly said she knew and thanked me for staying. The reality is that despite the vicious conflict within myself, I stayed for that damn workshop and did the best I was capable of. I am capable.

I also need to be careful with taking on other people’s stories as part of my own experience. My parents split when I was seven years old. My mom raised my sister, Michelle and I as a single mother. She held a lot of resentment against my father for not helping  to raise us and for not helping with financial support. I’m sure his drinking didn’t help. She had a right to feel the way she did, but she also passed along that resentment to me with her stories about him.  The resentment passed on to me never kept me from loving my Dad, but they were there because of someone else’s story. The reality was I grew up to develop my own resentments of him based on my personal relationship with him, but he loved my sister and me. He was entitled to our love and resentments based on our own experiences with him.

I just know that I’m exhausted. Not just from the TRE workshop, which worked despite my best (worst) efforts to sabotage it. I’m exhausted from the awareness and presence of my old stories. My old fear based, restrictive messages designed to isolate and keep me from the growth God has in store for me. It’s time to replace the stories with the reality of life. A reality faced with curiosity, willingness, trust, and faith. Shit, let’s not forget to put some humor in there too!

I ask this question because I keep coming across people in my life, who I respect and look up to, that mention their “practice” when referring to certain areas of their life. For example, my spiritual advisor, whom I talk to every Monday evening for up to an hour, refers to the time that she sets aside to meditate as her meditation “practice”. My yoga instructor suggests if we have a certain asana or pose that we get a lot of benefit from, we may want to jot it down in a notebook for another time if we have a yoga “practice” that we adhere to. I have a childhood friend, named Shileste Morris, who has written books, has her own blog site and Facebook page. She likes to encourage people to “practice your purpose”. I’m encountering the phrasing so much that it’s been sticking in my mind, tugging at my spirit and circling my heart. I needed to check out the definition as my 12 step work over the years has taught me the value and clarity of knowing the meaning of words.

prac·tice

noun

1. the actual application or use of an idea, belief, or method as opposed to theories about such application or use.
2. repeated exercise in or performance of an activity or skill so as to acquire or maintain proficiency in it.

verb

1. perform (an activity) or exercise (a skill) repeatedly or regularly in order to improve or maintain one’s proficiency.
2. carry out or perform (a particular activity, method, or custom) habitually or regularly.

Well, that does clear things up. Now I turn the blog topic and question towards myself. What is my practice? DO I have one? And why is this concept sticking in my head, heart and spirit?

What is my practice? I want to say “off the top of my head”, but the truth is I’ve given it quite a bit of thought and I realize I do have a spiritual “practice”! The principles I’ve learned in my 12 step journey are what I “practice in all my affairs”, to the best of my ability in any given moment. Principles such as honesty, hope, faith (surrender), courage, integrity, willingness, humility, brotherly love, discipline, perseverance, awareness and service (charity). That may seem like a tall order, however, it  really isn’t at this stage in my recovery. The longer I practice these principles the narrower the road gets for me. This simply means that when I am confronted with a situation that demands a response or action from me I am able to fall back on the principles of my spiritual practice. When I act contrary to my principles and trust me, even now there are times when I react dysfunctionally before I think, it feels awful and wrong. Here again, I use my principle of awareness of what I’ve done and attempt to make it right as soon as possible. My self-care rituals are a part of my spiritual practice too. Prayer, meditation, yoga, walking/hiking and now, blogging/writing.

I feel the concept of “practice” is sticking with me because this new phase of my life requires I be more diligent in the application of my beliefs. This journey to my heart, my true self is demanding I exercise my principles to maintain and improve my spiritual growth. The reason that is so important is because I’m chartering new ground for myself. I am living in the land of little to no television, and I mean mostly no television. A land of sustained emotional, mental and spiritual presence where there is a marked decrease in emotional eating, and I mean a substantial decrease! I don’t even seriously entertain the thoughts of mindlessly stuffing junk food in my mouth. Because the thoughts still cross my mind, but I am AWARE in a way I’ve never been before so I don’t act on them. Or I eat a healthier alternative, or I indulge in a small amount. About the only thing that surprises me is that I’m NOT surprised by all this as if I’ve been ready or working towards this. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure. However, to continue forward through what life can and surely will throw at me, I need to be diligent about my spiritual practices. 

My old way of dealing, or more accurately, not dealing with life no longer serves me. While it didn’t feel good to hide or avoid life through too much television, rereading too many romance books and mindless emotional eating, it served a purpose for a time. That time is over and when I discover what my Mission in Life is all about, I will practice my purpose.

I hate feeling the blahs. I really do and I can feel myself slipping into a pretty decent case of them. It’s hard to say what brings them on too. Sometimes they come as a let down after a big event such as a major holiday or winning a scholarship based on an essay you poured your heart and soul into. Sometimes it’s almost a self-defense mechanism. No, wait, sometimes it comes as a distractive mini-funk in anticipation of  a change or task I’m supposed to be accomplishing. A change like figuring out where to start looking for a new job or career, getting my resume together, sending out the resume and posting it on job websites. Those are still relevant right, job websites? Shit.

Oh and speaking of shit, my hair looks like it! Seriously. It’s well past time for a touch-up because my ponytail is looking wild, woolly and bumpy. The longer I put THAT off, the worse it looks and feels. I have to stop scratching my itchy scalp for at least a week first. It’s a black thing that non-African-Americans don’t have to worry about or understand.

My 30,000-mile tune-up is due, overdue on my car and I’m still recovering financially from moving two and half months ago. I have not written my amends letter to a family member that I said I’d write many, many times before. I told my spiritual advisor I’d write it last night so I could read it to her before the end of the week.

I’m not cooking as much as I want and need to for my health and current busy lifestyle. So you know what that means? Giving in to Baby Bub when she calls to ask me to stop at Wendy’s on the way home. She’ll pay me back Friday (her payday and a week from mine). I was tired and hungry, almost hitting town. I’d just been to National University’s library with my angel friend Paulie, getting pointers on how to present and punch up a resume. I caved, stopped at Wendy’s and bought food for her and myself, of course. Now I’m sitting here feeling overly full and bloated.

DAMN… This IS a pretty decent case of the blahs. Now in the past, feeling this way would be a precursor to a major depressive episode. Today, though, I know it’s just my head running against me. So I took a little break and I called my girl, Dawny. I spewed all the icky stuff from my blog, remember she’s my sounding board, and some stuff I’m not ready to face in the blogosphere. I got a much-needed reality check. I’m not giving myself enough credit and beating myself up at the same time.

I also figured out a few other things that might be impeding my usual stellar life coping skills. My yoga class was cancelled last night and my last two appointments with my therapist have been three weeks apart instead of every other week! Missing yoga class is showing just how important its become to my self-care. My therapist had a couple of personal life events come up that fell on the day of the week that we meet. So I’ve decided to give myself a break. I can’t get all of that shit I wrote about at the beginning done tonight anyway! 

I am going to tackle my hair tonight, though. If you don’t believe how bad it looks, check it out. And I will get to the other things as well. Probably not as quickly as my head tells me I should, but they will get done. I am willing to do the footwork and leave the results to my Higher Power. I already have a dinner date to COOK meatloaf and rice tomorrow night. Dawny is bringing the veggies for steaming. So there, take that you silly, impatient and belittling voice in my head. The voice of my blahs.

Lastly, I want to leave you all with a meme that nearly brought tears to my eyes when I came across it today. It’s from Sweatpants And Coffee on Facebook. It’s a phenomenal page. Check them out at the link below if you are so inclined!

https://www.facebook.com/SweatpantsAndCoffee?fref=photo&sk=photos

Since I am now a few days from the extreme feelings of the past week I think I can write about it and convey all of the emotionally moving pieces involved. First I want to make those aware who may not know that my extreme disappointment I wrote about in this past Thursday morning’s blog “Dealing… Because Life Goes On Ya Know?” was apparently unfounded. The winner had not been announced as I previously thought! Jennifer Pastiloff, the woman who’s website offered the scholarship and also who runs the retreats, posted on Facebook late Thursday morning that she had more anonymous donors step up and she now had THREE scholarships to offer for her Yoga/Writers Retreat in Vermont next month. She stated there were 70 essays to review and choose three winners from, so she and her editors would be busy reading.  My hope was restored that I could be one of the chosen three scholarship recipients and I went about my work day. Right before 4 pm when my workday was winding down I noticed a private message notification was flashing on my phone. I picked it up and there was a pm from Jennifer Pastiloff!

I gave an astonished gasp as I clicked on Facebook messenger with my heart pounding and hands shaking. My co-worker in my cubicle square was concerned and asked me what was happening. I couldn’t tell her because I didn’t know yet, but I told her I was checking on a private message from the woman offering scholarships to the Yoga/Writers Retreat. Jennifer’s message asked, “Do you live in Cali?”. I replied, “yes I do”. She replied, “Ok listen up. You’re coming to my New Years retreat. Can you? Your essay is amazing and your friends wrote in on your behalf.”  I couldn’t seem to process what I was seeing for many reasons: (1) The retreat I wrote the essay for was in Vermont next month in October, (2) she said my essay was amazing, and (3) my FRIENDS wrote in on my behalf. My mind was still confused about what was happening, what she was saying. Now I was crying and my whole body was shaking. We started typing over each other (something I normally despise about messenger and texting). I replied: “where is it? In Cali?” (meaning the New Years retreat). She replied: “your one of the ones I want”. I replied: “Oh My GOD JENN!!!” She replied: “I decided to give away a New Years spot and realized it would be easier to get there. It’s over $800 to fly to Vermont.” I was still confused so I replied: “I want to come. Which one? New Years?” She replied “Ojai is a drive.”

It finally clicked for me. She was offering me a scholarship to her New Years Manifestation Yoga Retreat in Ojai CALIFORNIA! It seems she was so blown away by all the essays submitted that in addition to awarding 3 spots for the Vermont retreat, she decided to offer one to her New Years retreat in Ojai. The website was always clear that the scholarship did not cover the cost for transportation and she knew the airfare to Vermont from Cali was over $800, but the Ojai retreat was one I could drive to. I managed to type “YES YES YES TO OJAI!” (It’s a Pastiloff thing, what are you saying yes to in your life). I also typed “I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH! THANK YOU, THANK YOU.” She replied: “look at that. I love you.”

That’s when I lost it at work. I was laughing, crying and shaking. Eventually, I calmed down. I finished up at work and when I got into my car to check my phone, Jenn had posted a public announcement on Facebook about me winning the Ojai New Years Retreat, about how my friends, unbeknownst to me, wrote in on my behalf and that she would be publishing my essay soon. Since I was tagged in her post, all of my friends and family saw it as well. Plus Jennifer’s community of beauty hunting tribe. They all sent messages of congratulations and encouragement. This was the first and biggest emotionally moving piece. Oh but wait, there were a few more.

I figured out at least one of my friends who had contacted Jenn because she is my personal sounding board when I’m unsure about my blogs. I’d read my essay to her and she loved it. I called her on the way home to tell her I’d won and how I found out. Then I asked her about writing into Jenn on my behalf. She confessed that she was one of the friends. She had no idea there was someone else. But here’s the kicker. I started my essay Sunday, Sept. 6th, finished it Monday, Sept. 7th and submitted it Tuesday, Sept. 8th. The deadline for submission was Sept. 9th. My friend sent her email into Jennifer Pastiloff on August 25th, the day it was announced on Facebook. A full two weeks before I started my essay, before knowing if I’d even submit one. Her faith and love in me and my writing stunned and touched me. 

I went into work the next day Friday flying  high. Other co-workers were slowly finding out about my scholarship and they were happy for me. I was heading upstairs to the breakroom with a very good friend at work Lydia. We ran into another friend Corie, who had seen the Facebook announcement yesterday and congratulated me on there. But she mentioned it again face to face. She looked at Lydia and confessed they had already planned to collect money and fundraise among my office friends to help pay for my airfare to Vermont. They’d approached everyone earlier in the week before any winners were announced.  I was stunned once again. However, since it’s in Ojai California where I can drive, there was no need. I wondered, how much can a heart and soul take of such love, faith, and support?

Friday afternoon I received a private message of another sort. My second cousin, the granddaughter of one of my aunts referred to in my blog “The Queens From Whence I Came” had devastating news. One of my beloved Queens was given a horrible prognosis about her health. Something malignant that had spread and is incurable. Once again I was having trouble processing what I was seeing, but my body knew. My eyes started tearing up and my heart started racing. FUCK is what I wrote in response. Then I asked if there was anything I could do and tried to provide some words meant for comfort and support for my young cousin. Speaking to the joy she brings just being herself, as an extension of her mom (my first cousin) and her Grandmom.  My emotions took a nose dive for the rest of the work day. So much so that 20 minutes before my shift was over, I had to get away from my desk and cubicle. I went over to the far wall where two lovely co-workers sit without a surrounding cubicle, but it is walled from the rest of the department. It was quiet because the supervisor on that end and many of the co-workers leave at 3:30 pm. I sat down on the floor next to one of their desks and told them I just needed a quiet, safe place to breath. They paused and let me do that. Then I told them about my aunt’s prognosis. And the big bang of finding this news out on the heels of winning an essay scholarship. They were so kind and compassionate that I ended up talking about many things concerning my divine path in life of late. They both came over to hug me and encourage me.

Friday evening I stopped by my friend Dawny’s house to read the email she sent to Jennifer Pastiloff way back when the scholarship contest was first announced. It was beautiful and amazing. She starts out saying she is not a writer, but she has a heart full of love, then she goes on to tell Jennifer and the editors part of my story. It was moving and humbling to see in black in white just what someone you love thinks of you. I have no idea who the other friend or friends are that also contacted Jennifer. If it is God’s Will, I may know one day. But if you read my blog, please know how truly, deeply, profoundly I get by with a little help from my friends.