Life is good

I've been feeling happy. Life with Eric and Z has been sweet. Practice has been compelling.

For the past 2 months, craving has been prominent during practice. Most discomforts boil down to raw craving: anger, restlessness, aversion. I'm learning what dukkha is. Unsatisfactoriness. I'm seeing that dukkha is the engine that drives most actions.

26 days ago, my supervisor told me that my job performance sucks. Interestingly, that hasn't made work distasteful. In fact, for the past couple weeks I've really enjoyed doing my work and have been alert and energetic while working. A lot has been happening and it's impossible to tease out cause and effect:

- A year ago I began having sore feet in the mornings. It's gradually gotten worse. Now my feet are sore most of the time, but especially after some rest. Then, 2.5 months ago, my hands have been sore. This has motivated me to take better care of myself ...
- 28 days ago, Zarina and I began a 28-day yoga program .We've done it every day since then, except skipping 2 days. I see some of my strength and flexibility returning. Lessening flexibility in the pecs and hip flexors seems to have reversed (partly because even before the 28 day program I'd already become more diligent about stretching those areas).
- 35 days ago my doctor put me on a gluten-free diet. This incidentally has also been a mostly sugar-free diet and low-cal diet.
- In the past 40 days I've had 2 treatments from my friend H, who is an intuitive healer
- I've been meditating more intensively the past several months
- I've been saying "no" more easily. I've been diligent and unashamed about staying un-busy.
- I've been hydrating diligently since the beginning of the summer, with the encouragement of Eric and Z.
- The past month or so I've been resting more, going to bed earlier and lying down sometimes in the afternoon.

Shadow side of inner work

A subtle shadow side of the inner work I have been doing:

I have become highly sensitive to my own reactions. For example: years ago, when Eric would get into bed with me, I would unconsciously and habitually use various physical and mental actions to shield myself from the underlying reaction of terror. I am not sure what those actions were, but perhaps something like this: I might tense my body, compulsively reach my arms out to Eric, remind myself that Eric is not a threat, review my beliefs that I must act loving and receptive in order to survive, initiate conversation to distract myself. I did not realize I had an underlying reaction of terror and I did not realize that my actions were designed to shield me.

Now I don't do any of those shielding actions. Instead, I feel terror. And don't know what to do about it. This is something that Eric has had to adapt to.

Craving

I haven't written in nearly a month. This saddens me, because I had the urge to write many times, and I long to have been able to record the many interesting things I was thinking and experiencing. I long for a life where I have the time and energy to do this. I mostly love to write; I do not have to push myself very hard to do so. Except that in my small amount of unoccupied time I generally feel fatigued; I choose to rest or recreate rather than write.

Starting with my second arrival in Italy on September 3, three weeks ago, I have been aware of craving as a distinct experience. Most clearly aware when meditating, but also sometimes during other activities. I see more clearly than before how most of my actions are motivated by a desire to satisfy craving. The craving compels me to search for something to do, some pleasant sensation to acquire, some problem to solve, and keeps my mind busy. And then, it very much keeps my body busy, as I work to do/acquire/solve: clean the kitchen, interact with Eric, get work done at ISB, consume more Facebook newsfeed.

I continue to do formal meditation 30-90 minutes per day, and did so while in Italy, usually in small chunks. Often we would sit in a church for 20-40 minutes; I would sit until I got sleepy or until Zarina was ready to leave. I would also often sit in the middle of the night; I rarely if ever slept entirely through the night.

I have become more and more concerned about joint pain. It is slowly getting worse. Shortly before this second trip to Italy, my hands began to hurt, and they hurt more now. Also, my feet hurt after even a short amount of rest. It seems likely that I am developing a debilitating condition such as rheumatoid arthritis. As I perhaps wrote earlier, I see that while I am very afraid of becoming disabled, my mind is also drawn to the idea that I have a definable condition, because it seems that it might bring me the sympathy and support that I long for. I know this is incorrect; I had the same notion about Paul's suicide, and although I did receive a lot of sympathy and support immediately afterward, it certainly didn't bring me a lifetime of it. This is partly due to my refusal to ask for and accept support.

I am also very much more easily fatigued than I used to be. Perhaps this began with my oophorectomy at the end of last year. I have been very wiped out by jet lag after three of the four transatlantic flights I took this summer.

What is going on

Have been meditating formally more often lately -- 30 to 90 minutes per day for the past few weeks. Noting practiced. Relaxed. Have been doing it while doing yoga, also, and it cuts through the suffering I experience while doing yoga. And have also been noting while doing other activities. Would like to get back to 90 min. formal meditation daily. Would like to get to technical 4th path. Would like to stop being imprisoned by my self. Was initially inspired by a new post by Ron Crouch in which he asserts that drug experiences pale next to the happiness of enlightenment.

Did the World Rogaining Championships last weekend with Zarina, in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Was diligent about staying hydrated and ingesting electrolytes. And possibly this is why I was not depleted the next day or the day after. Enjoyed seeing Mt Rushmore. Sewer failed while we were away. Spent the ensuing 3 days working out what to do.

Noting practice has supplanted "I love myself". I feel sad to give up "I love myself".

Dementia and suicide

Two people alerted me to this website created by a woman just before she took her own life in the early stages of dementia, at age 85.

Here is what I wrote in response to the second person:

Thank you for sending me that link. I love getting links from good friends so please send freely. Actually Z had sent me that one a few days ago. I really loved it because I want to do what that woman, Gillian, did, if I am in her situation. The more such accounts I read, the more I think I could have the fortitude to follow through. I am in full agreement with Gillian, except for when she says that she was becoming a vegetable or an empty shell. Those are inaccurate metaphors that dehumanize people with dementia. But she is correct in saying that she was losing her self and her ability to determine her own destiny. Until such day that society finds a way to care for people with dementia humanely and affordably, it is better to commit suicide at the stage Gillian was at. The care my mother receives is almost the best available, but it is still inhumane.

To me the hardest part about such a suicide is that, without expert supervision, it could fail, and then one is in a really bad fix. It is also hard to obtain the drugs. I don't currently know anyone who would get them for me, but perhaps if I got myself into the right circles I would be able to get them.

Feeling anger as life energy

Today, a bit more than ever before, I feel anger as raw sensation, nothing to be feared. There is still the compulsion to fear it, but that compulsion is weaker than ever. I am feeling it right now. At the moment, it has no target, although it was triggered a few minutes ago when Z was upset that Eric and I had taken all of last night's leftovers. It's a strong pulsing in the right neck ... a shimmering tingling in the right jaw, neck, upper arm, throat. I can kind of enjoy it.

This--after a session with Trip yesterday which felt rather unpleasant, and, at the end of which I felt quite down. During that session I was playing with intimacy and anger. About 2/3 of the way through the session, Trip suggested I go through the motions of punching him in the face. I didn't feel like doing that, but I've had positive results in the recent past when I've pushed myself a little to do things I didn't feel like doing (for example, a couple of weeks ago, using strong language to express anger at Trip ... also, two or three months ago, agreeing to sit close to Trip and each have contact with the same large pillow placed on our laps). So I did push. But this time it resulted in feeling overwhelmed and shut down.

[Added later: Notable is that, also yesterday, I had my first full-length Feldenkrais lesson. I was half asleep through most of it, but greatly enjoyed having arms and legs gently moved by my teacher.]

Just returned less than 48 hours ago from ten days with Z in Italy, spectating at the World Orienteering Championships and participating in the Five Days of Italy. Every day was thoroughly enjoyable. Before and during this trip, Eric and Z and I formed an intention to live more as a triad.

Depression

Thursday, and even more so, Friday and Saturday of last week, I felt very down. Very fatigued and inclined to think negatively. It became especially bad Saturday evening. Everything I perceived, I interpreted negatively. I began to think there was something really wrong with me, that I must have some chronic, degenerative disease. (I did look up RA on the web Friday before going home from work.)

Saturday evening I read one of John Sarno's books on how tension can create pain, and fear can magnify the pain. As I read the book I gradually felt better. The next morning I felt 100% my usual optimistic self.

Possible cause: cappuccino Wednesday night. First coffee in years. It was delicious, and it kept me up (enjoyable) most of the night, but maybe now that I'm older my caffeine crashes are more severe.

Regardless of the cause of this temporary depression, I experienced Saturday how fear can compound the situation. I was afraid, and then I was afraid of my fear. Then I thought I'd better watch a comedy movie to distract myself. Tried "When Harry Met Sally", but after 40 minutes I still hadn't laughed. It just wasn't that funny.

Hot flashes. Loving myself. Anger at being touched.

I'm becoming unenthused about hot flashes. When they happen during sleep, they come with very strong emotion. I can meet this emotion if I sit and meditate, but lately I've been resisting. I just want to stay lying down, dammit! I commit now to sitting and meditating when this next happens. Otherwise, I sometimes spend a large part of the night lying down and feeling unhappily agitated. And then, the next day, feeling sleepy.

I continue to practice "I love myself". In this moment, I'm not feeling the magic of it. But at other times, I do. Well, OK, a little of the magic is making itself apparent, despite my habitual pessimism. When I don't allow my delusions, it's clear that loving myself is the only way forward. Who will love me if I don't do it myself? When I do the practice, the warm, tingly, pleasant sensation of metta practice appears in my chest, throat, arms, face. This is a sensation that has been associated with metta practice for me ever since my long retreat at the Forest Refuge. But along with this pleasant sensation is sadness, fear, and longing. Sadness for ... I don't know what. For the life I have missed by not loving myself before now? Fear of the things I must give up to love myself, familiar things that provide comfort even as they frustrate and disappoint again and again. Longing ... for something ill-defined ... something that just hasn't taken shape in my mind.

This practice seems to have led to small changes in my experience. In recent weeks I've surprised myself by acting outside of habit. By not reacting badly to something that used to make me react badly. By being kind to myself. Sometimes I even notice the thought, "Oh, I love myself--I can't push myself" or "can't punish myself ... if I love myself."

When I wake with a hot flash, the strong emotion I feel is something like anger, but it's rounded, not sharp. And it contains a powerful longing or desire. And it feels SO big. Last night when I was awake with it, Z asked if there was anything I wanted, anything she could do for me. I said "no", but wondered whether I was blocking out what I really wanted and needed.

When Z kisses or touches me, anger arises. And the anger is uncomfortable. Previously in my life, when I've felt that, I've thought, "This unpleasantness means that this touch is something I do not want. I will ask the person to stop touching me." Then I would ask them to stop, and they typically would, and I would then feel sad. Or, I wouldn't ask them to stop, then feel really bad that I had failed to show respect to myself.

But feeling anger at being touched ... grrr ... finding this so hard to put into words ... the last couple of days I've chosen to allow the touch and to allow myself to feel anger. And to take the point of view that this is not disresectful to myself. Once yesterday I was tired of working with the anger and at that point I did ask Z to stop touching me.

With Z, often the touch brings up sexual desire.

Why are eating noises irritating?

I'm irritated by the sounds of people eating. It can drive me to utter distraction. Why is this? It is not the nature of the bare sound. Sometimes I hear something that sounds like someone eating. If I learn that it is actually a bubbling fountain, the sound doesn't bother me at all.

Most of the time, there are enough other distractions that I do not get irritated. But if I am in an otherwise quiet place with someone else who is eating, especially if they are eating noisily, it can be unbearable.

Since I began meditating in the Theravadan tradition 13 years ago, I have studied this phenomenon diligently. I have studied it because I want to understand it and free myself from the suffering associated with it. Indeed, I do find this irritation to be much less a problem in my life now than I did 13 years ago. But I'm not sure it's because I've studied it. It may be because I am, in general, happier, with more sources of comfort.

I have a hypothesis about why eating sounds are irritating. I think they remind me of being very close to mother and hearing all of her sounds. This brings up a whole host of memories that are, together, disconcerting: the memory of feeling extremely content and safe, the memory of learning that I am a separate person, the memory of being utterly disappointed with mother. This hypothesis arises from self examination: I have developed enough mindfulness that I can get a sense for what is going on in my psyche when I hear others eat.

Eating noises go on and on. If it were a one-time sound, like a sneeze, it would be easy to tolerate. The memories would come up, the irritation would arise, the irritation would soon pass as the mind is drawn to other things. But because eating noises go on and on, the mind is trapped in these memories, and panic ensues.

Many people find these noises irritating. Some find it to be a very minor issue. Some, like myself, find it to be a major issue. I once had a housemate who, I suspect, created a myriad of excuses to not eat with the rest of the household because the irritation she felt was through the roof. Being this irritated by eating noises is not a generally accepted affliction, and so it is embarrassing to admit one has it, and embarrassing to ask others to accommodate it.

Enjoying being with myself

I guess the gloom ended when I flew to the Bay Area on May10. Z met me there for 4 days, mostly spent at Aegis, the dementia care facility where Mom lives now, with family, and with a couple of her friends. On that trip Z had brought another copy of Love Yourself Like Your Life Depends On It and I read some of it again and became re-inspired. I began the practice with fresh enthusiasm. I was reminded that one doesn't need to do anything, to try to behave lovingly toward oneself -- one simply needs to direct love toward oneself.

At a subsequent psychotherapy session, T said, "those voices that keep trying to protect us with messages like you should be doing something else and there is not enough time and you did something wrong -- they are pretty lonely and need love." Since then I've been extending love to the inner children who have been desperately repeating these messages to me throughout my life. It feels right. A few days ago I was doing this practice at the kitchen table while sitting quietly with J, when I had the sense, for the first time I can remember, that I like being with myself.

In the grip

Have felt in the grip of terror and gloom for some days.

One week ago to the hour, felt flu-like symptoms: fatigue, muscle aches, deep gloom, lack of interest. Fitful sleep. Symptoms lasted through Wednesday. Felt better, both physically and emotionally, Thursday and better still Friday. Hit with fatigue again Saturday afternoon while at Wide World Books and Maps with Zarina.

These symptoms are now gone, have been gone for nearly 3 days, but gloom persists. Am feeling burdened by fear coming up in relationships with Z and G. So tired of the stories that say they are unhappy with me; so tired of feeling paralyzed and reactive in the face of those stories. Aversion, avoidance. Just want it to all go away.

Just came to mind the nana called "Desire for Deliverance". I often forget the nanas. Could I be there?

Haven't been meditating or doing meditative practice much lately. Have not done much of what I call inner child work in some months, I think--none of those sessions where I sit with myself and bravely face all sensations that come my way. Why? I think I'm not finding movement there; just feeling stuck. Had been feeling a lot of opening for some while: mid-night menopausal meditations during late January, February, March; then in early April some freedom after reading the book, "Love Yourself", and practicing loving myself.

Not to say that mindfulness is no longer my constant companion. It is. And I do formal meditation several times per week, though often very briefly.

Have also given up, for the time being, fighting the curvature in my upper back. I've kind of adapted to it. I think I need to be gentle with myself and the techniques I had been doing (lying over foam half-cylinder, lying over double tennis ball) don't feel gentle.

Rage

Last night I awoke with a hot flash and a piercing fear/rage/despair, accompanied by an image of my mother in her dementia care home and a sense that I must, must, must do something to fix her horrible. This had happened a few nights over the past week and I'd responded by sitting up and attending to the sensations and the inner child. This time I decided to do this work lying down. First I tried pushing and kicking an imaginary person who was lying on top of me, getting them off of me. This didn't provide any release or insight. Did it a few times. Then (against great resistance that I shouldn't bother anybody about this) I woke Eric and asked him to lie on top of me, and I repeated this. Still, no release, no insight. Very uncomfortable feelings in the arms, the torso.

Finally I noticed the comfort, pleasure I felt at having Eric lie on top of me. I realized I enjoyed that and wanted it very much, and thus was conflicted about pushing him off of me. I wanted him and didn't want him. I tried noticing the comfort/pleasure and seeing what else was there, and saw that the right side of my body didn't want to push him off but it wanted some kind of expression. I worked very, very hard to bring my attention to the inner child and ask her what she wanted. I tried to be her and feel her rather than conceptualize her and it was very difficult, especially since I also had to repeatedly dismiss voices that said I shouldn't bother Eric with this. But over many minutes I grew more at ease and began moving my body slightly according to urges that I found. More ease, more movement -- a virtuous cycle. But I also continuously felt tired, fatigued -- I wanted to rest, to sleep. Is this giving up on myself, or giving myself rest? Finally I said, "let's both go back to sleep." It took me some time to fall back asleep. I felt quite at ease in Eric's arms after all that, but not 100%.

Following on that--intense session with T this morning. Anger. Stayed with anger, followed T's instructions even though they intensified the anger. He encouraged me to say that I hated him, or something like that, but couldn't do that without shutting down. Finally I began to voice my frustrations and moved toward saying I wanted him to visit my home and my work to find out more about me so he could help me more efficiently. This felt right and good, but when I left his office 1.5 hours ago I felt such strong sensations in the right side and they are still with me, making it hard to work. But I will work alongside them as much as I can.

Exploring craving

Spending my Sunday mindfully doing the work I am paid to do. Am aware of this familiar craving, seemingly with no object. I think I can explore it a little now ...

opening ... releasing ... softening and pleasure in the right throat ... in the right jaw ... no longer craving, but desire to push or punch ... visualizing receiving the torso of my mother ... in my imagination I immediately want to push away as soon as I receive ... the receiving brings no satisfaction, no comfort. Asking again, what do I want? A huge palace, sumptuously furnished with very high ceilings ... and a body that can dance and move in every direction, can bend backwards ... I want something to push gently into my abdomen, into that special place that craves, my caecum ...

I do massage that place, gently. As in many past similar sessions, there is some sense of partial satisfaction ... similar physical cravings arise in the vulva, jaw, neck, throat ... I move my body, swaying, to specifically, precisely satisfy those cravings ... but only partially. Again I imagine being received in somebody's arms, and again I imagine immediately feeling repelled. My mind returns to my work: must keep accomplishing work! When I set aside that thought, the horribly mournful sound of aircraft overhead comes into my awareness and I feel the black depths, the void. Perhaps I can look into the void, as Trip taught me, without falling in: describe its shape, texture, smell, color ... today, the void looks like a bright hot summer day in central California, a long straight dusty road heading off into the distance, a vehicle driving away from us, never to return.

<30 minutes later>

Massaged that spot in the abdomen while lying on the loveseat in the sun. Still, only partial satisfaction, but the craving never ends. When the sense of the void arises, I recall the image of the road and the vehicle. I am standing on the road in a cotton dress, an adult holding me gently by the shoulders or chest as I feel the longing for whoever is in that vehicle. I recall the image and tell myself that that was long ago, and that now I will not be abandoned in the same way. This allows a bit more satisfaction to arise, allows fantasies of what I desire to appear more fully ... I desire for this spot on my abdomen to be like a vagina, a vagina small enough for just my finger ... if my finger could go in, there would be so much pleasure in my vulva. It reaches a spot where there is sunshine and wildflowers. Massaging my actual vagina or vulva would not be the same at all! Too exposed, too inconvenient ... the sensations too intense ... not cozy enough.

Now, having returned to my chair, I still feel some craving, but also some contentment. Ready to move on.

A fantasy of humiliating another person

On the drive to my psychotherapy session with T on Wednesday, a fantasy image crystallized in my mind: that of stepping on the face of my partner, E, and grinding his face into the mud with a waffle-soled boot.

This image didn't appear suddenly all of a piece, but gradually came into focus. The first thing I thought was, "E is right. I do have a buried desire to humiliate him!"

I talked about this with T, and said how uncomfortable I felt about it. He encouraged me not to focus on the idea that my fantasy involved hurting someone I loved, but to focus instead on how it felt, especially any pleasure involved. I found that it seemed very pleasurable indeed. I enjoyed, while pondering these mental images, pressing my right foot into the ground and rotating and gyrating my right foot as though I were acting out the fantasy. Pleasant tingling sensations arose, akin to massage, and I also felt pleasure in my vulva. I felt powerful, like nobody was going to hurt me now.

I just had an idea: I'd like to own and wear some boots.

Two very old stories of loss, long forgotten, now coming to light.

I often have the sense that there is not enough time for me. Especially during psychotherapy sessions. Last week I got some insight into this during a session. I was already working very deeply, and the familiar thought arose, "there is not enough time". And I had the strong sense that when I was very young, there was a situation when someone was helping me but there was not enough time. And that today, I actually keep myself from participating fully in therapy so that time will run out -- because I want T, my therapist, to know how terrible that was -- to have someone helping me, but then running out of time. T said, "sounds like you lost someone". That felt true, though I couldn't think of any person I'd actually lost. I said, "yes, and I've been looking for them ever since." Earlier in the same session I was accessing a child state that was age 4-11: "during the time I was searching, but before I gave up."

The sound of a train whistle, especially when at a constant tone & not varying with the Doppler effect, brings to mind a state of extreme emergency and loss. Worked with this yesterday with T. He encouraged me to vocalize any images that came to mind. Train -- the engine car -- Southern Pacific train on tracks in Millbrae -- car -- the old beige Pontiac -- it's night -- or foggy -- I'm in the back seat behind the driver, age < 3 or even < 2 -- the train whistle -- or maybe the car horn -- a bright light like a headlight -- I'm screaming -- I'm completely on my own. Everything ended then and it hasn't been the same since.

Log 02/27/14

Night wakefulness continuing. Day and night, I frequently feel very warm from the inside. I'm not usually aware that a hot flash is coming on, if it happens during the day. It's just that at some point I'll notice that I'm quite warm, and realize that it's unusual for me to feel quite warm in cool weather. At night I notice when the hot flash begins; I'll often wake up and feel this surge inside. I still like all of this, although at odd moments I notice the beginnings of annoyance with it.

Deepening intimacy with Z. Both of us are somewhat incredulous that this is happening. For each of us, our insecurities about the other have diminished a lot over the past month. We are doing very similar emotional work, with anger, movement, staying with feelings, being easy on ourselves. Usually when we sleep together I spend a good portion of the night awake or semi-awake, meditating or allowing myself to feel anger or longing, and there is some level of interaction with Z in that. My sense is that she is somehow in tune with me and in some way fed by my work as I am doing it, even though it often causes me to push her away either physically or emotionally.

This morning at 4:00 (sleeping with E) I found myself semi-awake with a ton of anxiety. I reluctantly sat up on my pillow and began my now-routine late night inner work. I usually do either classic Mahasi-style noting practice, or inner-child work. Sometimes I switch between the two, although the switching feels painful--perhaps pain of loss or letting go. Or pain of thinking, "I was doing the wrong practice". It is remarkable to me how different my experience of the two practices are--observation of sensation and emotion without story, and then adding story/personality to the observation by personifying the source of the sensation/emotion. So much more I could write on this, especially since it is outside the realm of most people's experience. Today I started with noting, then switched to inner-child. I worked for perhaps 90 minutes. I kept reminding myself to have "the utmost courage" because I wanted to quit every step of the way. The primary experience was of longing. I didn't used to know what painful longing was, but now I do. Deep, acute, with a sense of not getting, of never getting. And not knowing the object of my longing. Though I suspect I long for safety and love. At the beginning I felt frozen,  no movement of body or emotion. I pushed myself a little to rock and to move my jaw--two things that T encourages me to do, though I mightily resist following his instructions in his office--and that opened up new realms of feeling. Gradually, oh so gradually, things softened. My body moved more, my mouth opened wide at one point, small noises emerged from my throat. At one point, "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god ..." continuously. Then, I think, "Mamma, mama ..." ... though not sure about that. The locus of sensation moved around from right arm to right jaw to right abdomen, with occasional brief bursts of pleasure in the vulva. At times my right arm moved out, around, behind, in a way that felt easeful and satisfying. Even though things were softening, opening, moving, I still almost continuously desired to quit and go back to sleep. (Which I did, eventually.) I had two new memories during this work. The first was a memory of the delight of being a small child and interacting with a trusted adult. I  remembered Louis Ganem ("Uncle Louie") who came over to fix our television and I imagined, or remembered, being filled with delight that he was there, delighted in us, happy to see us, reflecting our exuberance. And doing something really different and interesting--fixing our TV! My sense is that the visuals of this "memory" are not from the original experience, but are rather memories of memories. But the visceral sense of the experience, the delight, is an original memory, one that I had not accessed since childhood. The second memory was of being very small and seeing the lower legs of several adults sitting on the living room couch and chairs.

Yesterday I delivered an excellent talk at work on my research. I received 6 or 7 very glowing comments afterward. I felt happy all day and the happiness continues now. I asked myself why I was so happy. I think it is because I imagined I was receiving the two things I most long for: love and safety. Love, in the form of the appreciative comments, and safety, in the form of knowing I wasn't going to get severely reprimanded that day (my supervisor, G, was one of the ones who provided glowing comments).

Log 01/26/14

6:30 a.m. Another night with wakefulness. Previous night I slept through, but nearly all nights since I slept with Z on Jan. 14 have been pleasantly wakeful. Practicing meditating while lying down. Without the strong energy of the Arising & Passing Away nana that I experienced during fall/winter 2011/12, meditation while lying down requires strong effort, and even stronger effort to see beneath the tension and brain fog. It works best to bring in some trauma recovery techniques, specifically to verbalize thoughts associated with what I experience in the right torso. They are the same thoughts that come up while seated, but they are stronger and scarier and harder to listen to: I don't know what I'm doing! What a waste of time! There are emergencies out in the world that I'd better attend to--I'd better get my work done, and figure out what to do with Mom!!! And, deeper: I regret all the time I've wasted. And: This is hard, I want to rest. When I silently verbalize these very strong messages, I become aware of very strong aliveness, anger, fear, desire, pleasure ... partial relaxation of the right jaw and distress upon realizing how very clenched it usually is ...

Yesterday I was very deliberate in my computer programming. I tried hard to stay awake and mindful of exactly what I was doing. I tried hard not to deny what was actually going on: that I was spending nearly two hours examining the changing value of a single variable, and that I went down a couple of dead ends due to poor mindfulness of ... of ... (I'm sitting here for minutes, trying to understand and articulate what I was not mindful of.) I habitually deny the nature of my mistakes and inefficiencies, because I am afraid that I'm no good. Of course, this denial doesn't prevent me from walking around with a very unpleasant, pervasive sense that I'm no good. I would do well to really embrace and investigate the details of how I work. Let's try again: I went down a couple of dead ends because I sloppily inserted debugging print statements without really understanding what I should expect at those points ... and I didn't understand what I should expect because my brain felt too small to encompass it. I think that breaking programming down into very small, understandable tasks with clear objectives would help me work with fewer mistakes and a greater sense that I ...

I will trust that I will be able to articulate this better the more I practice mindful programming.

When I get stuck and feel panicky that I won't figure it out, and I go to the sensations in the body, I see nausea. Following a suggestion of T, my therapist, I then place attention on my connection with the earth, intending release of whatever I am trying to expel, and I do get a sense of release, evidenced by the quick and immediate subsiding of the nausea (which may, just as quickly, return when I go back to the thoughts of being stuck).

What's going on right now

Here is a quick spilling out of what's been happening in my life lately:

Six year old self began speaking out during therapy session a few weeks ago, but has been silent since. I want to know what happened to me when I was young.

For about the past 2 years, progress in psychotherapy has been steady and exciting.

When I pay attention to my experience and avoid suppressing, there is strong pleasure and excitement. What to do with it?

Body feels more and more like the ocean; I feel the strong pulsing of blood any time I am mindful of my body.

Growing intimacy with Z feels wonderful and out of control and unpredictable and scary and embarrassing, and I haven't talked about it with anyone besides Z and E and therapists and a little bit with J.

Recovering from prophylactic laparoscopic bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy on Dec. 23. I am done having menstrual periods and I can hardly believe it! For the past 8 days or so, have had wakefulness during the night and a few very mild hot flashes. So far, all is enjoyable. Also, though, dry eyes.

New job as of Dec. 1. Spent first week finishing up stuff from old job, and weeks 3 and 4 recovering at home from surgery, so I've really only been working in the new job for one month. There is a lot of settling down and shaking out going on with regard to what the work is and my relationships with my new co-workers. Feels unpredictable in a similar way to my relationship with Z.

Noticing gradual increase in confidence in all relationships. Less fear of anger/conflict. Helped by Z, who is not afraid to have heated discussions. Helped by progress in therapy. The best.

Working more and more with movement. Subtle movement. Most lately: noticing the constant tension in the front of the torso as I round my back and bring shoulders forward to protect. When I notice and release, so much emotion!

Interacting with my mother, who has dementia

So very much has been happening in my life lately, inside and out, and I haven't been writing about it. It really seems like a matter of not having enough attention to write. Almost every day I have to attend to something that has to do with my mother, who has middle-stage Alzheimer's: either I speak with her at length on skype, or repeatedly on the phone, or I am making appointments for her or writing emails or talking to my sister-in-law or trying to figure out what to do next.

I just read an article by someone who is very good with teens, talking about how she is. For a moment I thought, "I'm not good with teens, this is just going to make me feel bad." Then I read it and enjoyed it. Then I realized that I am similarly very good with Mom, and that others might benefit from reading about what I do.

Interacting with my mother, who has dementia

Mom is in the stage where she is beginning to speak poetically. Example from this morning:

Terry: Mom, it is so nice that you are peeling that orange for me!
Mom: Yes, although it's only halfway.

I really don't know what she meant, but I just smiled and said, "Yes, it is, but it is so great!" It didn't matter exactly what she meant. The general idea is that she felt her peeling was somehow imperfect, and I responded with words to show I appreciated it anyway.

As long as I've known her, Mom has been insecure. She compulsively worries that she is not good enough, that her work is not good enough, that her home is not good enough. Ten years ago she used to help me and Eric build our WeGo Team Link tow gear. She sewed the belts on the sewing machine. She was very good at it, but each time she did it, she would repeatedly ask me if she was doing it right. I did give her the reassurance because I wanted the belts, but my stomach turned as I did it, and I resented it later. I think I was wise enough to know that she needed the reassurance due to deeply engrained psychological forces, but because Mom was not yet demented, I still hated her lack of self confidence and could't let go of the desire for her to be a better, more confident mother.

Now that she is demented, I've been able to let go of wanting her to be anything other than she is. This is the same attitude I've always naturally had with children and animals.

Now I am constantly aware of, and accepting of, her need for reassurance, so I try to give a constant stream of it. Every minute or two I will say, "Mom, I enjoy being with you so much!" She never gets tired of hearing it.

This morning she came into my bedroom and said, "Terry? You're here. I didn't know you were here!" She was distressed because she felt surprised, even though I had been staying with her for 2 nights already. I made up a story and said, "I came in late last night, after you went to bed. I'm sorry to surprise you! Come sit next to me." I put my arms around her and said, "I'm so happy to see you!" She brightened up.

Recently I borrowed a technique from my neighbor, Amy, who is an excellent parent to her two young children. When Mom is distressed and caught up in her cyclical thoughts, I look at her and say, gently and with love, "Mom, look at me. Do you see that I love you? Look at me!"