when old definitions of 'you' don't fit

We all have songs, books, pop culture moments that resonate with us and help us have a sense of connection in the world.

Alan Ball, the creator of Six Feet Under and True Blood is a touchstone for me in this way.  A few years ago I heard him interviewed, maybe on the Actor's Studio?   Anyway.  He talked about Six Feet Under as a response to death and dying in his own life and the heaviness of that project.  He then compared that to his later work, True Blood - how these vampire/supernatural stories are a metaphor for becoming most fully who you are or want to be or are meant to be in the world.

This resonates with me in two ways - as a hospice social worker, death, dying and grief permeated my being.  My answer to it - I didn't even know I had an answer - was my poetry.  And the second part of it is this:  when I transitioned from hospice social work to private practice, I had a strong celebratory sense - that I was becoming, changing, growing into some important part of me that I had previously been unsure of or reluctant to let myself explore. 

It makes me think about how we all define ourselves and where those definitions come from.  An example from my own life is a statement about me that I grew up being told from the outside and incorporating in to a sense of my early adult self:  Katy is cute.  Cute.  c-u-t-e.  I accepted that statement from the outside.  Cute meant, sweet, funny, loveable, easy to be around, non-controversial, dimunitive, not very assertive and certainly not aggressive.   There came a moment in my life where that was uncomfortable. I didn't like it.  It didn't feel like me. It was like some clothing that I'd outgrown.   It was hard to overcome this definition though.  Here is a place where poetry gave me an outlet for practicing how to redefine myself.  Through my poetry, I expressed myself in ways that were angry, aggressive, sexual,  embittered, resentful, faithless.  A lot of it came from facing so much death.  That wasn't so cute. And to make matters more complicated, I made myself get up and read those poems in front of rooms full of strangers. It was totally freeing!   I began to realize that cute was fine, but that it didn't define me.  That I could define and broaden my realization of myself and it wasn't up to anybody else to do this for me.  In fact, I didn't have to accept anything that anyone else told me about myself and not just in this one aspect - in any aspect.

I think it's worth considering what you believe about yourself.  Statements you unconsciously live by that define you.  Where did those come from?  Do they fit anymore?  If they don't...how do you want to go about redefining yourself?  What fits better now?  Are there secret, wonderful parts of you itching at you to let them out?

I think it can be fun - we are not one way and always one way.  We grow and change over time and sometimes parts of ourselves contradict ourselves.  There's room for it all and it's a happy thing to become the person you want to be in the world.

loosening up and letting go

In my ongoing quest to practice what I preach and not be a hypocrite when it comes to mindfulness, self-care, non-dualism, etc, etc, I made the New Year's resolution to explore some aspects of spirituality and philosophy in more experiential ways.  In that vein, I decided a couple weeks ago to take my first yoga class in 5 years. 

It was on a Thursday morning, a time I don't usually work.  I have, for the first time in 8 years, ostensibly, a large swath of time on that day that I can do whatever I want. Driving to the yoga class, I had some anxiety.  I have to turn off my phone for an hour and a half in class and this isn't something I normally do.  Even in my work day, I have my phone on silent, but check every hour to see if there have been any urgent calls or calls from family.  I talked myself out of this anxiety, "Katy," I said to myself, "That is just your anxiety.  It's time to let that go."  (See...trying to practice what I preach, gentle self talk). 

When I got to the class, the very earth-Mothery instructor said, "Hey, we've sort of spontaneously made this class 2 hours long - will that be okay?" 

"Sure."  I answered, but internally my anxiety ratcheted up again.  Again, I spoke to myself, "Everything is perfectly fine, Katy.  You may take this class for two hours.  This is time that you do have."

I didn't feel that great during the class.  When it was done I checked my calls and had 14 missed calls.  Yes - 14.  One from the school nurse and several from my husband, sort of like this, "Hey honey...where are you?  Our daughter is sick and I guess I'm going to go pick her up?  Where are you?"

For the first time since 2009, I had a kid sick enough to get a call from the nurse's office and it happened while I was in my big moment of spiritual woo woo/New Year's resolution-ness. 

What can I say?  I cried.  I cried because I felt like a cruddy mom and wife who was off shirking her responsibilities and I felt simultaneously resentful that I couldn't take one damn yoga class without the world seeming to fall apart. 

I also realized as I was crying that all that stuff is kind of bull.  None of it is true.  I am a good wife and mom and I can take yoga classes and everything will be fine.  It might be better to take yoga classes on Saturday or Sunday when my husband can be with the kids, though.

The truth is, the last few weeks have been really full.  Full of unexpected changes, deviations from the plan and routine. 

I've had to loosen up.  For me, this means loosening up, even on ways that many people find admirable, in which I try to take care of myself. I am loosening up on running.  I am loosening up on New Year's Resolutions (at least my original interpretation of New  Year's Resolutions).  I am loosening up on my rules about writing, about not procrastinating.  I am just having to go with the flow. 

I've written before about changing your strategy - I am finding that at least at this moment in my life, it's better not to have a strategy.  Or maybe my strategy is a balance between my 'agenda' and spontaneity.  Sometimes you can be going along feeling like life is adhering nicely to your agenda, but that's kind of an illusion.

In hospice, I thought a lot about the people who seemed, in the end, to be able to let go.  They had a certain grace in facing death and often, to tell you the truth, seemed to die more quickly, which is often a blessing.  I noticed other people who clung dearly to life, who tried not to let go. 

Well, it's getting later in the evening, a time my brain tends to wander and I guess I'm thinking that one thing relates to another.  Sometimes we have to loosen up and let go of little things, sometimes we are called to loosen up and let go of big things.  I guess I've always wanted to be someone who can figure out which way the wind is blowing, someone who can change plans, be spontaneous, and let go when that's the way things are going anyway.