Yesterday afternoon, I wrote up a business plan.
Yesterday evening, I wrote “FUCK THIS” across the whole thing in blue felt tip marker.
One of my themes lately is doing things because I think I should, not because they bring me any particular joy.
Reframing the oatmeal to bring you joy is always a possibility - even if that doesn’t make it taste like a fresh chocolate croissant - but it takes some effort. If you’ve let the joy drain out of you for so long that you don’t really remember what joy feels like or why you should make that effort, you’re screwed. (Meaning, I've screwed myself over a bit.)
So I’ve been thinking about joy and how to have some.
One of the things I've noticed about joy is that it’s like working out. You can’t just target your arms and do a bunch of weight lifting and expect your arms to look amazing. You still have to eat nutritious things and do cardio and work on your whole physical self before you get to have amazing arms. Unless you’re 23 and can thrive on pizza and tequila shots and still look amazing, in which case don’t talk to me.
You can’t just say “Hey, I want joy.” You have to target your whole emotional body. You have to feel all the things. Now, this is for those of us who habitually repress. Joy can be one of the easiest things in the world - just look at a happy baby. But if joy is hard to find, you’re probably a feelings represser like me.
After my dad's death, I went through a few years of enforced feelings because none of my well-honed repression techniques were working any more. Anger and frustration joined the grief standby of crying on the floor. The up side of my dad’s death was that joy came more easily, because all feelings came more easily.
But I don’t think that means that having joy requires a whole lot of grief. Joy just asks you to feel all your feelings, not just the fun ones.
Babies can be little joy machines - and they haven’t had to plow through deaths and breakups and getting fired and whatever else life likes throwing you as an adult. Babies find joy in flinging oatmeal onto the walls. Babies find joy in yanking the dog’s fur.
Sure, babies can be jerks and some of that joy comes at the expense of the caretaker who has to scrub the oatmeal off the wall and the dog who has to hide under furniture until the yank stops smarting, but joy is joy.
Babies get that kind of joy because 1) someone else will clean up for them and 2) they’re taking care of their whole emotional selves. If a baby is unhappy, you will know. Everyone in earshot will know. They aren’t repressing anything, they don’t know how. So as often as they shriek with utter abandon in the grocery store, they’re just as often beaming out instantaneous and effervescent joy.
It's time for joy again. Because joy is necessary for humans - and it can fuel all the other things that need to happen too, the ones like job-hunting and weed-pulling and tough-conversation-having that don't necessarily scream "Hey, this will bring you deep and abiding joy!" but will ultimately make your life better.
We don't even need to make it that complicated. Because, hey, meeting a new tree brings me great joy:
What To Do About Self-Doubt
I wanted to say “What to do about crippling, soul-sucking, anxiety-ridden self-doubt” but that seemed overly dramatic. But also not a bad description of where my self-esteem has been lately.
So I’m in a steady process of rebuilding my trust in myself and recalibrating my health - mental, physical, and emotional. Which has become quite a task, I don’t mind telling you.
I read French Women Don’t Get Fat and now we’re eating insane amounts of vegetables and whatever delicious meat is on sale at the market, plus a croissant on Saturday mornings because pastry is crucial to any French diet. I’m making sure I move my meat suit - either up the hill in the back of the house or through a yoga video or with those weights I always glare at. I’m trying to catch myself when I retrace my steps into the land of regret or stray toward the horizon of “oh my god, what’s going to happen next”. I’m not allowed to guilt myself or beat myself up or otherwise be a silent jerk.
Daily Trust Exercises (#DTE) have been instituted. That hash tag doesn’t represent some social media community of fellow trust brethren, it’s so I don’t have to write out all three words on every to-do list I write. Without that hashtag I would’ve already quit.
My first #DTE was “Get all your crap out of the hall, Amber.” After going through every single thing I own and deciding whether or not to keep it, I had a freshly re-organized office (bliss), an accidental capsule wardrobe (no more guilt over all those things I never wear), and a hall full of the random detritus I needed to get rid of post-cull. After staring at the hall o’ junk for a week, I decided that Day Number One of Amber Rebuilds Her Trust In Herself was going to feature getting all my shit out of that damn hall. And I did. (Mostly.)
Since my trust in myself would’ve plummeted straight into a fiery pit if I made it contingent on day-long escapades into Things I’ve Been Avoiding, I’ve made the subsequent #DTEs more manageable.
Currently, my daily “do the thing you say you’ll do when you say you’ll do it so you can trust yourself again” is meditation. Not my usual agenda-ridden meditation of “I want an answer to this question” or “make me feel better about this thing” or “tell me what my next business idea is and also how it will make money” because all that just stresses me out, which is contrary to the general theory and principle of meditation. Instead, my #DTE requires returning to meditation 1.0, aka Chill The Fuck Out And Let Your Brain Stop For a Hot Second.
I’m not very good at it.
But being good at it isn’t the point. Doing it is the point.
Slowly and surely, I’m learning to trust myself again. Trust myself to not be a flaming jerk to myself, trusting myself to do what I say I’ll do, trusting myself to do the things that help.
Climbing Off the Struggle Bus
This morning I was crying in bed, something that happens a lot, which could mean many things, but I like to think it means I’m listening to my therapist when he said “You need to cry every day.” He later added, “You need to be with a man who lets you cry on his shoulder,” which seems reasonable and I try to keep that in mind whenever the To Be With Or Not To Be With question presents itself.
So I was following my therapist’s wellness advice this morning and crying in bed on my boyfriend’s shoulder because I felt so overwhelmed.
Our two cats had long since vacated the premises (because I sneezed which, at this point in our collective history, means I’m either going to die or infect the world with coronavirus so I guess we can forgive the cats for fleeing), so it was just me, my tears, my boyfriend, his shoulder, and the posed question:
“What’s below the tears, overwhelm, and worry?”
After a lot of talk about money and work, and do we mean enough money to buy an island or enough to not worry about bills or food and also maybe get a massage every so often? (I seemed to come down on the side of the island and he came down on the side of Less Worry), I finally got to a nice tangled knot that needed unraveling.
Turns out, my ego and identity are based on struggle.
If I’m not struggling, I won’t exist.
All the things that make me a worthy human, all the things that make me me, require sacrifice and struggle. Writing, helping, making enough money to live where I want to live and do what I want to do - my brain has made it all very hard. Practically impossible. Certainly not going to happen any time soon. Which means that I am not me because I am struggling, but I can’t be me without the struggle.
If that doesn’t make any sense, don’t worry. Screwy belief systems rarely make sense in the bright light of day. What seems so pressing and real when it’s suppressed suddenly seems ridiculous when it becomes conscious.
So let’s just let the main point sink in for a moment: If I’m not struggling, I won’t exist.
Yes, that right there is belief system designed to result in a crappy life tied up in a bow.
It was kind of a lot for a Tuesday morning before coffee.
So I made coffee and climbed back in bed with my notebook and made a bunch of lists, which is the appropriate response to profound epiphanies like YOU WILL BE A SHELL OF A HUMAN UNLESS YOU ARE SUFFERING ALWAYS.
Ultimately, I decided that I need to treat my ego and her need to make us both miserable so that she can stay alive like a friend. A misguided friend, but one who has your best interests at heart even if she calls your boyfriend to break up with him for you and then calls your boss demanding to be fired. She meant well, she just wanted to save you pain, but she went about it in an ill-conceived manner.
Me and my ego sat at the beach for awhile (the beach in my head, not a real beach, because real beaches are closed right now so humanity can stay alive?) and we came to a new understanding. She can insist that suffering is vital and necessary and I can remind her that there are other options and maybe we can find them together.
She seems to like that. There’s a lot in the spiritual community about transcending your ego and wrestling it to the ground or eradicating it completely, but that seems to be missing the point. Your ego is just another part of you. You don’t have to let her run the show (stop it, Amber), but letting her speak her piece and then reminding her that there are other ways, ways that will make everyone happier, allows a wholeness and a gentleness that we all need right now.
When Things Feel Better and It's Confusing
My anxiety has dissolved like a sugar cube in hot tea this week.⠀
My experience of peace has dialed way up. If I drop into something that doesn't feel good, I bob right back out again. Almost effortlessly. In the past, where the past was a week ago, if I got knocked out of my feeling-good place, I would have to work damn hard to regain it.⠀
It's like everything I've been practicing and working for has finally clicked into place - like all the power tools I've been frantically throwing in my mental health toolbox finally got plugged in and turned on and now they work the way they're supposed to.⠀
Nothing about this time makes sense. Everything my past experience has taught me says that I should be dragging and / or feeling all the things and / or panicking.
Instead I feel like lightning is coursing through me. I feel energized and able to get things done without my usual rounds of second-guessing. In this moment, I feel happy, energetic, and stable. Which is not what I would expect from global pandemic energy.
It doesn't make sense, but I don't need it to make sense. If it lasts, I will be thrilled. If it doesn't, I know that Feeling Peaceful For Five Whole Days In a Row is something that exists in this world.⠀
Or maybe this is something else. Maybe this is ascension. Maybe 5D is already here. Maybe this isn’t what we believe it to be. Or maybe I’ve just used up all my anxiety and fear for one life time already and so now I get a break.
Honestly, I don’t know. My job right now seems to be to stay in the moment, roll with and enjoy what is, and let things unfold.
If anyone else is having a similar experience right now, I'd love to hear about it.⠀
If this is not anywhere close to your experience, I will just say that this is available to all of us. I know that for sure, even if I don't know what your personal route might be.
But you know how to get there. Even if you don't yet know that you know.⠀
xo - Amber
Wait, what is this feeling?
Time to Slow
It’s blissfully quiet - no cars rumbling down the road, no planes blasting over head. The only sound is the kitties chewing their breakfast kibble.
It feels like the world needs a rest. I saw pictures of the Venice canals - the water was running clear, and the fish and the swans were returning. When the factories in China shut down, the air cleared for the first time in decades.
There’s something that feels very important about this time - a slowing down, a drastic shift in everyday life, something deeply supportive for us as a people and for the planet.
